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She’s still here.
What the fuck did it mean?
He walked inside and down the hall toward her room, only to come up short when she stepped out of the bathroom.
“Oh, Lock. Hey.” She froze in her task of towel-drying her hair upside down.
One look at her with wet hair, tiny cotton shorts, and one of those damn skimpy tank tops that kept him sweating, and he forgot all about his vow to stay away. His dick went rock-hard so fast the room wobbled before his eyes.
“You okay?” she asked as she straightened.
“You’re still here.”
Brilliant.
“Yeah, is that okay? I thought about going straight home, but I needed a shower and a few minutes to calm down before I got behind the wheel.”
He drank in the sight of her with her pebbled nipples peeking through the thin fabric of her white tank. Clearly, she’d skipped the bra, and with her skin slightly damp, the material was nearly see-through. Was she trying to kill him?
“You let the sitter go?”
“Yeah. Is that all right? There was no point in her staying since I was here. I checked on Caleb, and he’s sound asleep.”
“It’s fine.”
Use words, asshole.
“Fine that you’re here and that you let Alison go.” Thinking became a challenge, with all the blood rushing away from his brain toward his cock.
“Okay.” She narrowed her eyes and gave him a skeptical assessment. “So, uh, is everything over with Ol—”
He stepped forward. “Don’t say his name. Don’t ever say his fucking name again.”
Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a harsh breath. “Okay,” she whispered.
They stared at each other across the five feet of hallway separating them. Tension crackled and fizzled like a live wire in the rain. Brenna’s chest visibly rose and fell with each inhale. Lock was seconds away from pouncing on her, and he tried his damnedest to keep from turning into a rabid animal.
“So, I owe you an apology,” she said as she shifted from one foot to the other.
Even her polished toes were a turn-on. He’d never given a shit about feet, but they were as sexy as the rest of her.
“Wait. What?” he asked as her words registered. That had his lust dimming a bit. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Her cheeks flushed. “For how I treated you back at the clubhouse.” She gazed at the floor before seeming to summon the courage to look at him again. He hated the guilt in her eyes. “Kissing you and all that. I used you to get back at Oliver. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me.”
Was she for real? He barked a laugh. “You used me?”
“Yes. The whole thing was so out of character for me. I just… lost my mind, I guess.” An uncomfortable chuckle escaped her. “I didn’t even have your consent, and I basically attacked your face.”
Christ, she could use him like that every day and twice on Sunday for all he cared. Hell, he’d beg her to use him. But her voice held so much misery she couldn’t possibly be joking even if he fought the urge to laugh. “My consent?”
She frowned. “Yes. Why are you just repeating me?”
If it wasn’t for the way her nipples were currently trying to cut through her shirt or how she’d rubbed her stellar ass all over his cock earlier, he might have thought she didn’t want him. But those things and more gave her away. She was too damn sweet to admit she loved it as much as he did.
“How’s your hand?”
She jerked at the change of subject and then stared at her hand. “Oh.” She opened and closed her fist with a wince. “It’s fine. I’m a little embarrassed that I lost control like that. I’ve never hit anyone before.”
