Fine, then. She knew. He loved her. He’d loved her since he first saw her dance in the Shadowlands.
It wasn’t as if pride had held him back from telling her, or the stupid macho shtick played up on TV and in the movies. He didn’t have the time or patience for any of that shit.
She had to understand.
He said, “I. Ruin. Everything.”
The smile faltered, a dark glimmer of sadness far away in her eyes.
So she did understand. No matter how he felt, he was no good for her. He could play well and fight better, but that was about it. He was a thieving, murderous opportunist. Not too long ago he’d taken all he could get from her, and he would again tonight.
He dropped his gaze to get rid of Adam’s cuff links. Everything borrowed, nothing his. Never his. He threw them on an end table, rolled his cuffs, and forced himself to look up again.
Her gaze was waiting.
“You’ll have to tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. She was smart; by now she had to have guessed that he’d quit trespassing in her head.
She pinned him with dangerous intent. “Fine then. You ruin everything? Ruin me.”
Heat and shock burned away his bitterness. If ever there were an invitation…
“You told me this evening, who knows what will happen tomorrow,” she said.
He hated when people quoted him.
“For some reason, the wolf has left us alone tonight. I don’t know why. Maybe you hurt him badly, or maybe he’s plotting something more horrible than we can imagine.”
Custo could guess where she was going with this. He should have kept his distance, kept his hands off her. There was no white picket fence in their future. Ever.
“I think we should dispense with any and all crap and tell the truth for once,” she continued. “That way, neither of us needs to read minds.”
No house in the burbs. No happily-ever-after. But some offers were just too good to turn down. He pulled his shirt-tails out of his pants and started removing the studs in his shirt.
“Now,” she said, her voice wavering after her speech. “I think you should start.”
Little coward. Custo caught himself from smiling. She wanted truth; she was going to get it.
“I hate your dress.” There.
Her faced flushed, hands going to her flat, little waist. “Well, I—”
Custo flicked the last stud away as he strode over to her. Her scent, sweet and subtly flowery, filled him. He circled to her back and stroked a knuckle down the exposed skin. “It’s been bothering me all night. It really should come off.”
He lifted his hands to her shoulders and brushed away the straps. The blue fabric slid down her body and puddled on the floor. “Much better.”
She turned her head to the side. “I saved for three months to buy that dress.”
“This is much better, trust me.” He skated over her waist to her flat belly to pull her back against his open shirt, skin to skin, then stopped at her breasts. He’d been certain a second ago that she was braless. He turned her to investigate.
Sure enough, a nude bra of sorts covered her breasts. Having no straps, the molded cups were held up by magic. He hated it, too.
“It’s a stick-on,” she explained, a shy version of her smile tugging at her mouth. She stepped out of her gown, stooped to pick it up, then laid it on a wing-back chair. He didn’t stop her so he could watch her move in her high heels with her endless legs in thigh-high stockings and her itty-bitty G-string.
But his attention came back to the bra. “You’re telling me that you have a sticker for a bra?”
Innovative. Brilliant. Somebody must be making millions.
Annabella laughed now. “A self-adhesive, yes. So my bra wouldn’t show with my dress. You can’t just yank it off either.”
She began to apply herself to the task of slowly peeling the silicone from her skin.
“No, no,” he said. “Let me. I thought I had mastered all women’s underwear, but I seem to have missed this one. As always, Bella, you challenge me.”
Her hands dropped to accommodate him, her weight shifting to sit in her delectable hip to let him know how exasperating he was being and how patient she was in return.
“Now let me know if this hurts, and I will kiss it all better.” He tugged a little at the cup, gently, and kissed the bare spot anyway. The skin beneath was warm, dewy, and pinked. Salty. Her fingers threaded into his hair to keep him close.