I like being around him.
I like sparring with him, flirting and arguing.
Worse—I likehim.
He glares at me like he hates the distance just as much as I do. “What just happened?”
“What?” I clear my throat and force my face into the blank, expressionless mask I’ve worn for way longer than I’ve been a social worker. “Nothing.”
It’s easier this way.
I hike a thumb over my shoulder, letting cold condescension seep into my voice while actively ignoring the hurt, confused look on his too-handsome face.
“Anyway, you definitely need a good tub. Unless youcountry boyslike to bathe in buckets.”
With that, I brush past him, forcing my breaths into something easy and calm.
I need to get the hell out of here. I need to find Bea, tell her I’m sorry but I don’t feel well, and I’ll be back next weekend.
Better yet, maybe I’ll tell her I can’t do this at all. It’s too much, too intense, and dangerous.
Heavy footsteps pound behind me, and I pick up my pace, searching for my bag as I tug my socks from my pocket.
“There you go again, freckles,” he drawls, hot on my heels. “Asking about my habits. First it was me shirtless. Then mysleeping schedule. My mouth. The kinks I’m into. And now you wanna know how I bathe?”
He scoffs and I groan, rolling my eyes.
“If I didn’t know any better,” he adds, slow and smug, “I’d say you’ve got yourself a mighty fine list of all the things you’re wonderin’ about me.”
A laugh bursts free, acidic and disbelieving, as I whirl on him, suddenly exhausted from all the whiplash.
He pushes, I pull. He goes too far, or sees too much, I shut down.
And then he’s right back at it, and so am I.
Every single time.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap. “You think just because you growl, smirk, and saydarlin’in that fake-as-hell accent, every woman in town is wet for you?”
“I don’t need tothink,” he fires back. “You admitted it yourself.”
I press a hand to my chest and gasp, outraged. “I did not—”
“You did,” he interrupts, stepping in.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper-hiss as his boots hit the tips of my toes. I glare up at him. “I didn’t say a damn thing about that.”
“No,” he agrees. “But your body’s screaming loud and clear. Has been since the second you got here today.” His eyes trail down the length of me, stalling on Dolly—or what’s beneath her. “It’s still screamin’, isn’t it, darlin’?”
Between us, my nipples are sharp points, made more obvious by the heaving of my chest. As one, our gazes snag on them—and pause.
My throat bobs, and Kade groans, low in his throat.
“Say it,” he demands roughly, and suddenly, I’m not so sure he’s just goading me anymore. I think he really means to cross aline we can’t come back from. “Say it and I’ll show you just how fuckin’ badly my body wants you right back—”
BANG.
“Georgia!” a sweet voice calls. “Are you here?”
