I scrunch the sheet up to hide my unhinged jaw and any droolthat may escape. “You’ve been working out in the room while I was sleeping for three hours?”
“Yeah. It’s noon.” He switches to a one-handed push-up—equally awe-inspiring—as the cords of his muscles and pulsing veins bait me further. “I considered waiting for you to wake up, but got antsy.”
“There’s a gym,” I mumble, simply to keep the conversation flowing so I can keep admiring.
“Nah,” he grits out while he maintains his aggressive pace. Three. Hours. Into. A workout.
Way to go, Navy SEALs.
Visions of last night swarm me. He’s …talented.Gifted really. Those long, lean fingers are impressive and skilled. I’d never come so hard in my life. Ty Reynolds bringing me to orgasm has happened hundreds of times, but that was the first time he was present and an active participant at that. My heart wants that to mean he’s mine. But he put it all in perspective when he prefaced it with me using him for the night. He didn’t even allow himself to come, so despite my satiated libido, my heart has little to latch on to.
For now, I’ll keep things light and see where the day takes us. “I slept till noon because somebody faked a bad dream so they could feel me up. Tell a guy about your porn-star nipples and he’s all”—I adopt a suave, manly bravado—“Baby, use me. Make me suffer.”
He flattens to the floor and howls his booming laughter—that symphonic tune could be the sole track on a platinum album. “Is that how I sound to you?”
I bite back the immense pleasure his joy bestows and smirk. “Yep. I bet you thought you had a deep, husky rasp. A sexy, drop-your-panties bedroom tenor. I apologize for thrusting you into utter disillusionment.”
“Good thing I don’t. That could get us in trouble.” He delivers that with every drop of deep and smooth, husky and raspy, what fantasies-sound-like precision. It’s reminiscent of his filthy mouth last night, and he was holding back, so…
My thighs clench beneath the sheet as I choke back my parched desire. “Speaking of getting in trouble, what are we doing today?”
He catapults off the floor, looming at the end of the bed like one of those Greek or Roman sculptures—chiseled and rigid. His gym shorts rest low on his hips. Some of those etched designs come into focus atop his eight rippled abs—compasses and swallows and the skeleton of a tree frog. Beads of perspiration trickle down between his pecs, sailing all the way to the indented V, directing my attention to—
“Rena, eyes up here, baby girl.”
“What?” I wheeze.
He chuckles. “I asked you to tell me how you’re feeling.”
Planting my gaze firmly on his golden-brown eyes, I shake my distraction away. “About?”
“Everything. Or start with nothing.” He rubs a towel all over himself and strolls to the coffeepot to make a cup—adding a heap of sugar and a single creamer, which is how I take it too. “Tell me something I don’t know. Like what you want to be when you grow up. That’s the question you threw at me.”
I wrap the sheet around me more snugly so I can attempt to focus. A challenge with both of us half naked. “Mine was regarding when you were a kid. Yours is present tense. So, when I grow up and become an old person, like thirty?”
“Yeah. When you’re ancient, like me.” He stirs the hot drink, saunters over, sets the coffee cup beside my mess on the nightstand, and plops into the wingback chair, his pearly whites dazzling me. “Although I’m actually thirty-one, as of last month.”
“Oh, I didn’t know when your—”
“You couldn’t have. We don’t celebrate. But now you’re clear on … how ancient I am.” He seems hesitant with that, worried about our age difference maybe.
“Ivy is twenty-four. How old is Wells?” I ask.
“Thirty-three.” He chuckles, clearly seeing where I’m headed since age difference isn’t an issue with them. “He had another triparound the sun recently too. Enough deflecting. We were talking about your aspirations.”
Lying straight again, I drag a pillow on top of me for security. “Can’t do it.”
“I gotta tell ya, I had more invasive inquiries I could’ve started with. I thought this was dipping our toes into the getting-to-know-one-another-better pond. Why the hell did you already freeze me out?”
He knows how to make my coffee and wants to get to know me better. That’s got to be good.
Keeping the pillow as a physical barrier between us to shield my flushing skin, I blow out a breath. “Because Ivy is obviously a mob boss or something. I know that’s probablyclassified,but whatever. People think I’m ditzy or deaf, maybe, and don’t hide things from me as well as they think they do. And Celeste runs the shelter for you.”
“Okay,” he says with amusement threading the word. “I’m lost as to why that means you won’t tell me what you want to do. If it’s because you want to be a singer, I think that’s amazing. You were magical up there.”
Fuck.He’s doing something to me. As much with his answers as with his glistening warrior physique. Even the few guys I’ve dated didn’t want to really know me. All they wanted was an inside peek at the Noires. But that made it easier somehow. I knew what I was getting. This is a mystery I’m not in the mood for.
If Ty breaks my heart, I might have to kill him.
