“Hi,” he said. He didn’t move away or drop his arms from caging her against the counter.
Heat bloomed over her skin. Becca released a shaky breath, one that emphasized just how close they were. Her hands, lying flat on the pads of his pecs, itched to move and explore. And her tongue volunteered to follow close behind.
What was it about this guy that made her brain shut off and her body turn on? Way on. Her nipples went tight, liquid heat gathered low in her belly, and her hips were a breath away from grinding against his. Wanting this man—and acting on that desire in any way—was a really bad idea. All her energy needed to be focused on finding Charlie. But when she was around Nick, need vibrated through her veins and lust became a living thing inside her. And, oh, how she wanted to let herself go.
As if he’d picked up on the shift in her mood, Nick’s gaze went molten and he leaned in, just the smallest bit, his line of sight zeroing in on her lips. Oh, God, he’s going to kiss me. She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry.
“Hey, is everything okay—oh. Oh, shit. Sorry. Carry on.” Jeremy’s voice retreated as quickly as it had appeared. Down the hall, his door clicked shut.
Nick wrenched back, leaving Becca frozen and breathless and hungry against the granite. As much as part of her absolutely loathed the distance between them, his position several feet away allowed her to soak in the whole of him. The broad, muscled shoulders, the cut definition of his chest and abdomen, the way his unbuttoned jeans hung on his lean hips. Unbuttoned. Like he’d just pulled them on. And, with how low they sat, no way he was wearing anything underneath. Even his bare feet, sticking out beneath the ragged hem of the denim, were sexy.
“Becca, what are you doing?”
Busted. Her gaze whipped up to his. The heat absolutely blazing in his eyes did nothing to help pull herself together. She bent down and retrieved the fumbled ice cream. What she really needed was a cold shower. With a handheld showerhead. And really good water pressure. The thought was so not helpful.
“Midnight snack,” she said as she placed the tub on the counter’s edge, hoping he believed the rasp in her voice was left over from sleep. “Want some?”
He remained silent until she looked at him. “Maybe I do.”
The words hung in the air between them, seeming to answer a question she hadn’t asked. Or maybe she had. If they were playing chicken, she definitely lost, because she was the first one to turn away.
A moment later, he stepped to the counter, then leaned onto his elbows next to her. The position bunched his biceps, pulling her attention to another piece of ink he wore there. Toward his shoulder, above the band of fallen soldiers, a silver knife lay atop a pair of crossed arrows. The inner part of the Special Forces crest, readily familiar to her from her father’s service—except this was different. A black circle surrounded the weapons like a shroud.
“Trouble sleeping?” he finally said.
She dragged her finger through a bit of condensation on the ice cream’s lid. “Yeah. I’m wired. Too much nervous energy. Didn’t mean to wake you, though.”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh.” She wondered why, but since he hadn’t offered, she didn’t want to push. She blew out a long breath, trying to get her body to settle down. His proximity wasn’t helping. Heat poured off his arm into hers.
“I might have a better way to blow off some steam.”
Her heart tripped in her chest. His expression was serious, challenging. “Better than chocolate ice cream?”
“Yep. You game?”
She pushed the container of ice cream away. “Depends on exactly what it is you’re proposing.” Her mind reeled with the possibilities. Anticipation spread a shiver over her skin.
The smile he unleashed was a complete killer, part smirk, part smolder. Twin urges coursed through her—to smack it off him or kiss it off him. Just then, both urges ran neck and neck.
Rixey grabbed the double chocolate fudge brownie and chucked it in the freezer. “I’ll show you.” He made for the front door.
Becca frowned. “Uh, where are you going?”
“Come find out.”
Gesturing to herself, she stepped around the counter. “I’m not exactly dressed for a middle-of-the-night stroll.”
His gaze dragged over her, and she felt it like a physical caress. “You’re fine. Except, um—” He cleared his throat. “You might want to put on a bra.”
Put on a bra? Hands on her hips, she watched him attempt to keep a straight face, then she turned on her heel. “Not what I expected you to say.”