“There’s nothing to be sorry for if you weren’t the one telling lies, remember?”
“I told you that I didn't do that, Kaz.”
“And I believe you,” he murmured. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Violet didn’t quite know how he wanted her to respond, nor how she wanted to, so she chose not to say anything at all. Kaz side-stepped her as he lifted his wrist slightly, and unlinked the cuff of the watch he wore to place it into an empty slot in one of the many turning displays.
As she watched him begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, Violet took a quick breath. She had known the moment that he hadn’t directed his vehicle back toward Manhattan that a suggestion was in the air, hanging silently between them. He had only confirmed it further when he told her she could ask to go home at any time, and he would take her there.
She wasn’t a dumb woman—she heard his unspoken words loud and clear.
Violet figured she had answered them just as clearly, simply by being where she was.
And yet, seeing Kaz readying for the evening like he was done for the day, only seemed to heighten her realization of just how far she had gone with him already tonight.
Violet chewed on her bottom lip.
What was a little farther going to hurt?
He had her so curious—what would feeding it do?
“What?” Kaz asked.
Violet’s gaze jumped up to him. “Pardon?”
“You’ve been staring at my hands for the last two minutes.”
Had she?
“Thinking,” Violet supplied.
It was only then that she realized he hadn’t finished undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, and had only gotten through the first two. But since the very top two had already been undone before he began, her eyes were drawn to the barest hint of ink under his shirt that was peeking out.
There was no denying the fact that Kaz was a sight to be seen with his tall, fit form, his darkly handsome features, and an attitude that almost screamed for someone to back off.
Subtly, Kaz tilted his head, still watching her like he could read her mind. That unsettled her just a bit—enough to put her off balance, and nervous under his eye.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
Violet stilled on the spot. “Do what?”
“That—overthink and worry. I wouldn’t take you for the kind of girl who turns shy when a man looks at you. Don’t you know how beautiful you are?”
That was not what she expected him to say.
“I’m not shy,” Violet said.
“Good. Because I lack the couth it takes to make a woman comfortable in her own skin. And I don’t want to, either. You shouldn’t need me to—not looking like you do.”
Well, then …
Violet didn’t feel as unnerved under Kaz’s heavy gaze as he regarded her for a second time, letting his stare wander down her body and back up again. Almost imperceptibly, his gray irises darkened, his lips edged up in one corner, and his tongue snaked out to wet his bottom lip before disappearing again.
It made her aware of his intentions fully.
And it made her hot.
She knew what he had done immediately.
He lied—he had the couth to do it, he just didn’t want to, and so he did it in his with his own style.
“Well played,” Violet whispered.
Kaz winked. “I thought so.”
He continued his work of undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as if she wasn't watching him like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen all day and he wasn't the least bit bothered by her attention. Or that she had a better view of the tattoos on his fingers, like the circle with a dot in the middle, or the cross on a dark background—she wondered what they meant. As he pulled the shirt off entirely, Violet’s mouth went dry. The white fabric hung loosely from his fist as Kaz turned slightly, giving her a full view of the artwork she had only gotten a bare glimpse of earlier.
There were the twin stars inked just beneath his collarbone, one on either side of his chest, but what captured her attention the most were the three Russian cathedral domes tattooed on his chest. They were tattooed with incredible detail, as though the artist had spent hours painstakingly crafting each one. But despite how much space the tattoo took up on his chest, it was the only one she could see besides the stars.
Despite how easily she could get caught up in his tattoos and what they might mean to him, her gaze was quickly taking in the rest of his bare chest, too. The slight tease of his shirts stretching across his pecs and hinting at what was beneath did not do him justice. The man was cut—defined ridges and a hard “V” where his pants hung low on his hips that demanded exploring, especially that light dusting of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline.
Jesus.
Kaz was goddamn gorgeous.
She decided the eight-pointed stars were her favorite, though.