Page 35 of Brutal Sin
“Brought someone from the club back to your apartment?”
She shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve had any man in my apartment.”
“The first?” He followed, dirty dish and full wine glass in hand. “I thought Shay said you’d been a widow for years.”
“And now you’re taking the invitation as a compliment?” She opened the fridge, shooting him an unimpressed glance over the top of the door as she placed the food inside. “Don’t. Believe me, you’re not special. I just haven’t had much luck with men since Lucas passed.”
With every insult, he struggled to hide his smirk. Her compounding disinterest had the opposite effect on him. A dangerous effect. For once, he felt a strange pull formore.
“Maybe that will change after the demonstration night.”
She closed the fridge and came toward him, taking the plate from his hands to place it in the sink. “You’ve gotta get me there first, bucko.”
“I guess you’re ready for me to prove my worth. Tell me where you want to do this and we’ll get started.”
“Now?” She turned from the sink, her eyes wide. “God, no. I just ate a truckload of food. Unless you have a pregnancy fetish, you’re going to have to wait until my belly settles.”
No, no pregnancy fetish, but he was starting to think he had a thing for kitchens.
He could picture her bent over the sink. Slammed up against the fridge. Splayed on the counter. He didn’t want to wait. He had to get this over and done with before his needs became demands.
“Can we sit for a while?” She made for the dining table to claim her wine glass, bringing a waft of heavenly scented citrus air as she scooted past. “I’ve been on my feet allday.”
He huffed. He didn’t even try to hideit.
Her responding chuckle only increased his annoyance.
“Is it going to threaten your bachelor status if we sit side by side on thesofa?”
“Doesn’t worry me in the slightest.”
“Liar.” Her mouth curved in a knowing smile, the wine glass raising to those tempting lips. “I knew being here would make you uncomfortable.”
“We’ll see who’s uncomfortable once you’re naked and writhing. I figure the apology you’re going to owe me for doubting my skills will be hard to spitout.”
“I’m never going to apologize for not being endeared by your shitty attitude.” She strode into the living room, an added sway to those hips. “If you can work any sort of magic it will merely be a payoff for the crap you’ve put me through.”
His gaze strayed to her ass encased in those tiny sports shorts. If anyone was going through crap, it was him. He was the one who had to figure out how to get her off while holding his own lust in check. Lust that rapidly morphed into a driving force.
He followed her, choosing to stand by the stacked bookshelf while she lazily slumped onto the three-seater sofa. She kicked her feet onto the coffee table, spreading long, smooth legs before him like an appetizer.
“So…” He turned to the bookshelf, taking in the middle shelf stacked wall to wall with cancer information. A cold ache formed under his sternum at the thought of the nightmare his parents were enduring. He wanted to familiarize himself with their suffering, to pretend he was involved somehow. “That’s a lot of books.”
There were emotional titles—When Breath Becomes Air, Everyday Strength, and How to Help Someone with Cancer. Research titles—Radical Remission, What You Need to Know About Cancer, The Facts 101. Even those that promoted alternate therapies.
“Lucas had terminal cancer.”
He’d guessed as much. “I’m sorry you had to go throughthat.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
He pulled a title from the shelf and stared at the couple on the cover—Supporting Someone with Cancer: A Loved One’s Guide.
He wondered if his father had this book filed neatly on their perfect shelf back in Tampa. Had he purchased all these titles for the woman who made his life worthwhile?
“How much time did you have with your husband after his diagnosis?”
“Eleven months.”
