Oh. Okay. Well, that’s something. My family is huge. I can’t imagine someone living without all that support and warmth and love. “Does she live close by?”
“No, out of town. Listen…” His hands are clenching and unclenching, and a vein in his neck is beating frantically. He stands up. “Mind if I smoke?”
I shake my head and put my sandwich down. He changes moods like I change panties. He walks to the sliding door, opens it and steps out onto the balcony. The cool breeze carries a scent of flowers, mingled with car fumes and cigarette smoke.
I follow him out. He’s leaning on the rail, smoking, and I have a great view of his long legs and broad back, all lean muscle and sinew. There’s an ashtray on the floor, full of cigarette stubs.
“Do you smoke?” he asks.
“No.” I step up to the rail and lean back against it to look at him. It’s then I notice his hand holding the cigarette is trembling.
What’s wrong with him? Worry turns my stomach into a stone. Is it what happened at the park? I don’t dare ask him about it. I’ve been nosy enough for one evening.
“My dad smokes sometimes,” I say. “Cuban cigars. He says he likes the smell.”
“It’s a bad habit.” Zane chuckles softly, and it sounds bitter. “Got plenty of those.”
“Like?”
“Like…” He stares out into the night, the embers burning red. “Drinking.”
“Drinking, but not getting wasted?”
He laughs. It’s a beautiful, deep sound. “I told you that?”
“I thought part of the drunk definition is that you remember what you did? In contrast, you know, to being wasted?”
He laughs harder. “Fuck me. I guess I really was wasted when I told you that.”
“I guess.” I grin and turn around to prop my elbows on the rail. “Any other bad habits I should know about?”
“You’re better off not knowing,” he mutters and crouches down to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray.
I press my lips together and try not to think of all possibilities. Hard not to. “So, about me moving in…”
He straightens and shoots me an incredulous look. “What?”
I bite my lip not to snicker. “I hope you don’t smoke inside the apartment in winter. And I need to know that you will clean and not leave me all the housework, because I suck at that. Also, we need to have popsicles in the fridge at all times.”
One corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile. “Popsicles, huh?”
“Yeah. And orange juice. And Fruit Loops. It’s a condition I must insist on.”
“I see.” He raises his brows. “Well, I don’t just take anyone in who asks, girl. You have to prove yourself first.”
A snort escapes me, but I stop myself from laughing out loud. He may sound like he’s joking, but what if he means it? What if the only way to unlock his mystery and get close to him is to prove myself? Show him he can trust me?
I was there when he took care of Asher and Tyler—I saw how he did all in his power to help. What makes him so strong? What makes him who he is? I don’t think he lets many get close to him.
I want that. I want him to lean on me, desire to be with me. I want him to trust me enough to look at me as he touches me and kisses me.
And I have a feeling he’d be worth it.
“What’s that? A new drawing by you-know-who?” Bella peers at my back as I step out of the shower wrapped in my favorite yellow towel.
Damn, I forgot about that. After I left Zane and went back home, I just dropped to sleep, thinking about everything he said and the way he touched me.
I twist to look, but I can’t see anything, so I march into my room and check my back in the full-length mirror there. “Another bird.” He didn’t sign it this time. Then again, we got distracted toward the end…
“A humming bird,” Bella says, following my inside. “Why is he drawing on you with a pen? Can’t you afford a tattoo?”
“He won’t ink me.”
“Seriously?” Bella’s brows arch. “Why? Because he’s your boyfriend?”
I look up, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “What do you mean? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“So it wasn’t him who gave you that hickey?”
Oh crap. Forgot about that, too. I turn my head and, holy shit, it’s red and purple. I clap my hand over it. How didn’t it hurt when he did that? I only remember pleasure. Incredible, pure pleasure, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
And I shouldn’t be thinking about that, not when he closed off afterward, and we parted ways without touching again. Not when I want to gain his trust as a friend.
Why did he touch me, if he didn’t want me touching him? He was so aroused... I don’t understand…
“Oh my God, you’re all packed!” Bella goes to stand by my bed where my suitcase is lying. “You didn’t tell me you found a place.”
“It’s temporary. I talked to Audrey this morning, and she told me Tessa could put me up for a few days.” I don’t know Tessa very well, but she seems nice.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
I have to be. Bella’s boyfriend is arriving tomorrow. I’ve cut it real close. Then again, Audrey said Tessa may know someone who’s looking for a roomie.
The doorbell rings, and Bella goes to open as I pull on some cut-off jeans and a T-shirt and check my hickey one more time, caught between horror and pleasure at seeing Zane’s mark of desire on me.
If he desired me, why didn’t he touch me again afterward? Why did he move away as if my skin burned? This is driving me crazy.
“Good morning,” Tessa says from my bedroom door, flashing me a smile. She’s picture-perfect as always, conservative to an iota, in an expensive-looking gray dress and high heels, her blond hair pulled up in a chignon. “Ready?”
“Almost. Give me a minute.” I pull on my sandals and check my room one more time to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. The furniture belongs to Bella—the apartment is rented by her family—so I’m only taking my clothes. Good for me.
Tessa sits on my bed and looks around, interest flashing in her gaze. Then she zeroes in to the hickey. “So who’s the lucky guy?”
Crap. “No one.”
“A no one who sucks on your neck like a vampire.” She winks and cranes her neck. “Is he also the no one who drew something on your back? Is he…” Her eyes widen. “It’s Zane, isn’t it? That’s his drawing style. Oh hell.”
‘Oh hell?’ That doesn’t bode well. “So what if it’s Zane?”
“Girl…” Tessa shakes her perfectly coiffed head, small golden earrings glinting on her earlobes. “Zane has a reputation, and I say this as his friend. Everyone knows. It’s not a secret.”
Everyone but me, apparently. “Bad habits, huh?”
“You can say that.” She tsks. “He’s a serial one-night-stander.”
I wince, although I sort of expected this. “A manwhore.”
Tessa frowns. “Yeah. It’s like he uses sex the same way he uses alcohol. He’s never had a girlfriend that I know of. He picks up women in bars and does it with them right there. Never gives his number. Never kisses them. Never takes them home.”