Kaz caught her staring again, but Violet wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “See something you like?”
His arrogance was amusing. Most men thought themselves as confident, mysterious, and cocky all rolled into one, but they just came off as assholes. Kaz didn’t even have to try, he was all those things rolled into one—including the asshole, sometimes—and Violet liked it a lot.
“Yes,” she said, shrugging.
“Straightforward, are you?”
“I’m not a liar, Kaz.”
What else did he expect?
“Do they mean something?” she asked, her stare dropping down to his tattoos again.
“Yes,” Kaz said.
“What?”
“It’s a story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
“What story?” she asked.
“Mine.”
Violet stilled when Kaz moved directly in front of her, almost crowding her. He lifted his right hand, and his fingers skimmed under the collar of the bomber jacket she wore.
Quietly but surely, he asked, “Can I?”
She nodded.
Kaz pulled at the collar of her jacket until it started to fall down her arms. Once the item hit the floor, his attention was back on her. His fingers grazed her neck with a soft touch, surprising her.
“Not shy,” he said, almost like a reminder.
His softness was gone just like that. The pads of his fingers pressed into her collarbones and traveled lower to the neckline of her tank-top, wicked and promising. A huskiness colored up his tone, making her shiver.
Violet shook her head. “Not shy, Kaz.”
How could she be shy under his regard when he was making it seem like she was the one and only thing he wanted to look at?
Again, Kaz stepped closer. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his chest brush her arm as he leaned slightly to the side and tossed his white shirt into a small garbage bin behind them.
“Blood doesn’t wash out,” he said, more to himself than to her.
Violet was still listening. “Shame. I liked that shirt.”
She could almost see his smirk when he replied, “I think you liked the person wearing it more.”
“Maybe. But maybe not.”
“You’ll never tell, huh?”
Violet turned her head, catching his eye with her own. “Nope.”
Apparently, that look was all Kaz needed. Violet barely took a breath just a blink before his mouth was on hers. Her lips parted the second his tongue struck at the seam, demanding entrance. His hand landed to her waist as his other caught her right under her jaw. Her back hit a row of shelves as her hand grabbed the belt at his waist. He tipped her head back, and his hand slid lower on her throat.
Because those hands—she liked his hands.
But it was his tongue seeking hers, and his groan building deep in the back of his throat that made her ache.
Kaz pulled back, just enough to let her take in a sharp breath. He was still close enough that his stubble scraped her lips as he watched her under dark, lowered lashes.
What was he waiting for?
What did he want?
Violet didn’t have the patience to be tampered and teased. She let her fingers unfurl from his belt, and her fingernails dragged down his stomach, insistent and firm. Kaz crowded her again, letting her feel the hard length of his erection digging into her body.
“So sweet,” he murmured.
Violet blinked. “Am I?”
“Your mouth. It makes me wonder what else might taste sweet on you.”
She swallowed hard. “Care to find out?”
“I’ll get there.”
His words sounded like a promise.
Entirely.
Violet’s fingers dug into the railroad path of Kaz’s abdominal muscles when his lips found hers again, rough and hot. She suddenly felt hyperaware of his hands as one traveled down her side and the other moved from her waist to the hem of her shirt. She let him fist the material of the top and pull it up. He only broke the kiss long enough to toss her shirt somewhere behind him on the floor.
Those hands of his, so insistent and wanting, pushed her shoulders, driving her harder into the shelves. Violet didn’t even mind, she just yanked him closer.
“Off,” he demanded, fingers curling under her bra straps. “Let me take it off, or you do it. But it comes off now.”
Here would have been the best time, she thought, to tell him to stop.
Before he took anymore from her—before she gave him anymore. Before he had the chance to see or have parts of her that weren’t supposed to be meant for him, and that she wasn’t supposed to show.
It should have been the time, but it wasn’t.
Violet’s smaller hands enclosed his, letting him pull the straps down around her arms. Kaz’s gaze lowered when his palms slid across her sensitive skin, and pushed the lacy cups of the bra away. She sighed when the pads of his thumbs brushed over her pebbling nipples once, then twice.
At the third swipe, her exhale was a little more ragged than the last.
“Those sounds,” he said low.
Violet looked up to find him staring at her mouth.
“What about them?” she asked.
“I want more of them—louder.”
“Louder?”