Devyn Hayer was probably sleeping his way across San Francisco. Hell, he’d already started while engaged to me, and here I was, living the life of a hermit. I had to start dating again. Move on.
“Headache?”
“Shit!” I spun around, a hand flying to my chest at the unexpected sound of Max’s voice. “You scared the hell outta me!”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. He leaned against the counter. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
I inhaled a shaky breath. “You’re lucky I didn’t have a knife or something equally sharp in my hand.”
Though he smiled, his handsome face appeared tense. The skin pulled taut over his cheekbones, the shadows beneath his eyes and the small scar on his chin more pronounced. Darn, the kitchen light must’ve woken him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
At three in the morning? “You okay?” I asked.
He lifted an inked shoulder in a shrug, his gaze skimming over my undoubtedly wretched appearance and swollen eyes. No, I wasn’t a pretty crier. His lips tightened. “Yeah. You?”
Warily I eyed him. “Why?” I countered.
“That woman who confronted you in the bar last night upset you. Who is she?”
Of course, he’d seen that. “Someone from my past.”
He didn’t say anything. Waited. Sure, like I was gonna discuss my humiliation and devastation with a complete stranger—no matter how hot or good-looking he was.
Max straightened from the counter and slowly approached me as if I were some nervous filly about to flee. He wouldn’t be wrong. The kitchen suddenly felt too small. I pressed my back into the sink and dug my toes into the cool floor, refusing to run. When a bare inch separated us, he brushed the hair away from my face. Gently, he stroked my brow, sweeping to the side over my temple, and somehow, he found the pounding spot there.
He was giving me a massage. It was the best thing I’d felt all week—hell, in a long time. Unable to bear the scrutiny of those green eyes, I shut my eyes.
“Do you get them often?”
“Headaches?” A soft groan escaped me, one of pain and pleasure all at once. “Sometimes, when I work without stopping.”And when nightmares bear down on me.
He remained silent and continued to rub my temple.
God,but his touch felt so good. Soothing. My tension eased, and his scent, his warmth surrounded me, blurring my thoughts. I swayed, almost falling into him. In pure survival reflex, my eyelids snapped open. Nope, that didn’t help either. His chest with the tattooed demonic ram entangled in a web and captivating, pierced nipples was a mere whisper away.
Heat seeped through me at the intimacy of our position, making me aware of my lack of clothing, that I only wore boxer shorts and an old, tight, strappy top. Biting back my wariness, I lifted my head and forced a smile. “Thank you. It feels much better.”
He said nothing, just lowered his hands, remaining where he was with just an inch separating us.
“Would you like something to drink?” I croaked, feeling as if someone had sucked out all the air in the kitchen. “Coffee, tea, Milo, juice?”
He shook his head.
I’d come into the kitchen seeped in despair, now he was all I saw. God. Safer if I headed back to bed. “Goodnight—”
He put his hands on the sink, caging me. And bent his head, his gaze leveling with mine.
“W-what are you doing?”
“You don’t like me, do you?”
What? “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know you well enough to either like or dislike you. You’reRay’sfriend,” I stressed.
“And that’s all I am. What are you scared of, Logan?” he asked quietly. “I don’t bite. Right now, I’m just trying to talk to you. Ilike you.”
Something must be seriously wrong with me that I was actually starting to like the sound of my last name on his lips—wait, did he just say he liked me?
