I snort. “Yes. Very relaxed.”
“That’s good.” He snuggles against me.
“I haven’t even thought about work since we came out here. Fuck.”
Kian cackles. “Quick, scrub your brain. We’ll pretend you never said that.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I know.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “I like this side of you.”
I frown. “What side?”
“The non-grumpy side. Don’t get me wrong. I like it when you’re grumpy and scowly too.” He pecks my lips. “It’s sexy. But how you are right now—relaxed and smiling—this is sexy too. You’re one sexy man, Jett Harris.” He looks down and skims his hand over the tattoo on my thigh.
“Don’t look at that.” I cover it with my hand.
“Why not?”
“Because—” I sit up, hug my arms around my knees, and stare at the lake. “It makes me a jerk.”
He kneels behind me, kissing my shoulder. “How does a tattoo make you a jerk.”
“Because I got it for Erica. It has her name in it.” I huff a sigh and grind my teeth until my jaw aches.
“Uh, it would only make you a jerk if you were still with her. You split up months ago.”
“Yes.”
“At least it’s not in an obvious place.”
“I’d get a cover-up tattoo if I could, but I can’t afford it.” Thanks to Erica.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Maybe one day you’ll tell me the half I don’t know.”
I grunt. I can’t think of anything more mortifying.
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Kian says.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. I’m the one being the arsehole right now.”
“Lie with me? I think you need a hug.”
The towels rustle, and I glance over my shoulder. He’s lying down and wriggles his fingers, inviting me to join him. It feels wrong when anger is coiling in my gut.
“Jett.”
But I will be an arsehole if I brush him off now. I lie beside him, and soon we’re embracing and kissing. His sweet touches and gentle caresses make thoughts of Erica drift away until there’s nothing but him, me, and the moon and stars.
Chapter8
Kian
“Ouch.” I wake up with a crick in my back.
