He didn’t peel long. From the sounds of it he’d noticed the sandwiches she’d prepared and dug in. A short while later, he called, “You’re rehired, effective immediately.”
She was worried about him. Not about the cut on his hand. He was right—it wasn’t that deep and probably wouldn’t open back up. But he was so closed off right now. It scared her even more than the push. And the fact that he hadn’t flinched as she’d doctored him, when it must have stung like an SOB...there was something wrong with that. Though it had been sexy.
But mostly wrong. And sexy.
Why did he go to such lengths to keep his emotions hidden? Because he did have them. She knew that now. The intensity of his rage...
If he’d served in the military, he could be having flashbacks.
She remembered how Beck and West had mentioned “six months” the night of the party. Had Jase been discharged six months ago? Well, no wonder he hadn’t yet acclimated.
“Need any help in there?” she called, knowing he’d finished his meal and had restarted his newest task.
He came barreling into the living room, pointing a sheet of wallpaper at her as if it was a weapon. “You’re on a break. You shouldn’t be offering to help.”
She leaned against the arm of the couch, getting more comfortable. “Good friend that I am, I’m willing to cut the break short just for you.”
“I’d rather you—” His gaze landed on her midsection, and he sucked in a breath. The muscles stretching from his shoulders to his fingers flexed as he stepped closer to her.
She glanced down. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, baring her midriff—now quivering under the heat of his masculine attention.
Her eyes flipped back up, locking on his. The whole atmosphere of the room seemed to change in an instant, the air sizzling with sudden awareness. Of him. Of her. Of what they could do together...
“Jase,” she said, the neediness of her tone almost enough to make her cringe. Let me make you forget your inner wounds. Let me feel what I haven’t felt in years: pleasure.
“Brook Lynn, I can’t—I shouldn’t. I—”
He turned abruptly and stalked back into the kitchen.
She pushed out a shaky breath. Despite what had happened outside—or maybe because of it—her fascination with this man hadn’t lessened. She imagined his warrior hands all over her, his mouth following in their path, and nearly slid off the couch.
He was a puzzle. He was damaged by his past. He had secrets, and he would die before he admitted he needed her. He may not have realized it, but he’d leaned into her every time she’d put her hands on him, his body telling her what his expression and tone had not.
But...there was Jessie Kay. There was also the date she had with Brad, the one she’d thought to firm up later today. However, they hadn’t actually set a date, so she could get out of it pretty easily.
Should she?
And what about Jase’s stance on happily-ever-afters?
The guy was clearly more of a fixer-upper than she’d ever realized, and she’d sworn off fixer-uppers for all of eternity.
The end result might make all the work worth the effort.
She rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, picturing Jase and Brad side by side. What she wanted versus what she thought she needed. Passion against compatibility.
She imagined Brad trying to kiss her and shied away from the image.
She imagined Jase trying to kiss her and moaned for more. Fire ignited in her veins as her nipples drew up tight and arousal dampened her panties.
A few minutes later—surely that was all the time that had passed—she felt as if she was floating...floating...gently stretching over a cloud.
“Sleep, angel.”
“Jase.” A breathy sigh escaped her as she realized he had carried her to bed. “Want,” she admitted, hovering somewhere between awake and asleep, where nothing but sensation existed.