“Because you eat like my mum,” I replied before the thought completed in my head.
Billy tilted his head sideways, his keen gaze sharp enough to remind me of Floki fromVikings, who I definitely crushed on more than Ragnar or Rollo. “What does that mean?”
“She was dirt poor for so long she never got used to eating like she could afford to. Food was fuel to her. She never enjoyed it, but I knew she wanted to, so I hated watching her survive on soup and crackers when she had a fridge full of stuff for me and Mia.”
I figured he’d laugh, or at least roll his eyes, but he didn’t. He picked up the plates and took them to the sink. His back was to me, head bowed as he turned on the taps. I tried not to stare, but his hunched shoulders called to me. Minor meltdown forgotten, I slid from my stool and came up behind him. If he heard me coming, he didn’t react, but as I got close enough to feel his body heat, he sucked in a breath that seemed to hiss through my senses. I’d never been so aware of him as I was in this moment.
My hands twitched at my sides, then hovered over his shoulders.
Billy snorted. “Just do it.”
“Do what?”
“Whatever it is that’s making me die of anticipation.”
“What makes you think I’m not dying too?”
“Nothing makes me think anything. My brain’s mush when it comes to you.”
A distant part of me wondered if I was dreaming. If his words were mine and I was talking in circles to his back while he washed the dishes and planned his escape from his deranged roommate. Then he pulled his hands from the sink and slowly turned around. It hadn’t been long ago that his face had been that of a man I’d convinced myself I could barely remember. Now I could catalogue his features with my eyes closed, his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and flinty eyes.
Eyes that seemed to soften only when he looked at his cat.
Or me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells sounded again, but I ignored them and stepped closer as Billy drew me in without doing a single thing. I put my hands on his shoulders, lips tingling as I imagined pressing them to his, but my courage failed at the last minute. I stopped and rubbed soft fingers over his bad shoulder, tracing the scars beneath his T-shirt. “What happened earlier?”
Billy shifted, pressing up into my touch. “Define earlier.”
“When you came back to work. I saw you walking away.”
“And I saw you with your arms around my brother.”
“So? I hug him all the time.”
“I know.” Billy stole his hypnotic gaze from me and scowled at something behind me. “You must hug that prick every day with his fucking moods.”
I couldn’t deny it. Luke was Luke, but I was a tactile bloke. Somehow we’d made it work. “I do hug your brother a lot, but it’s not the same as this.”
“This?”
“Yeah, this. Don’t pretend it’s not happening.”
“What? That I’m so caught up in you I got jealous of you hugging my gold star straight older brother? Yeah. Okay.”
Billy rolled his eyes, but I caught his chin in my hand before he could look away. “Why were you jealous?”
“You know why.”
“I don’t. Say it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Billy screwed his eyes shut. Obstinance rising in him as fast as heat was rising in me. Was he really going to pretend he didn’t want this as much as I did? That the crazy desire building in me was mine alone? My brain was still telling me to run a mile, but every other facet of my being was shouting louder.
Much louder.
I tightened my grip on Billy. He twisted his head and bit my finger, catching my knuckle between his teeth, bruising and hard, but not sharp enough to do anything but pull me in more. I crushed him against the sink. For a long moment he resisted, then something inside him seemed to melt away. He wrenched himself free of my grip and released my finger from his teeth. His chest hit mine. I stumbled back, but he caught me, dragged me in, and kissed me like he had five years ago.
