“And this…” he said softly, “is why no matter how much you hide, this thing between us will always draw us together.”
My mouth opened and shut. Words eluded me. His hand came up, and his thumb slowly caressed my lower lip. My breath caught. “Logan—”
“That wound should be seen to,” I blurted, pressed past his warm body, and fled to the kitchen, feeling as if I’d run a mile. My movements jerky, I pulled out the first-aid box from the sink cupboard and dropped it on the counter.
He walked into the kitchen. His bag landed on the floor with a loud thud.
I dug through the box and found what I needed. Avoiding his gaze, I said, “Let me see that.”
Tossing his tee on the counter, he held out his hand. “Knock yourself out.” His terse tone held an edge of frustration.
It was a struggle to focus on my task with him so close. I swabbed the wound with disinfectant, put a Band-Aid on it then tossed the used cotton ball in the trash. With his brooding stare on me, I scrambled for something to do and pulled out my wallet from my satchel.
He grabbed my wrist like a striking asp, expression furious. “Don’t.”
“You fixed the washing machine—”
“I taped a fucking pipe. Any idiot could do that.” His anger licked at me, raw and furious.
“Sorry,” hovered on my lips, but too rattled to say anything, I tugged my arm free and dropped my purse on the counter.
God, I was making a mess of everything.
“What is it about you?” he asked, leaning against the counter, arms folded. Anger banked. “You slap down every friendly overture I make, and yet I can’t seem to keep away.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about? I don’t slap anyone down.” I put the first-aid kit away.
Low, disbelieving laughter sent goosebumps skating over my skin. “Come on, Logan, at least quit lying to yourself. You only spoke to me because I fixed your washing machine, then you wanted topayme as if I were some skivvy. I walk in anywhere you are, and you put up those prickly barriers as if afraid I’ll be all over you. I don’t get it. You’re friendly with other men—like your client. But not me. Why?”
Because it terrifies me, this hold you seem to have over me.
Shutting the cupboard door, I straightened and settled for, “You’re imagining things. You forget we spent the afternoon with Peter and Iris. We spoke.”
“You feltsafebecause the kids were a barrier,” he countered, pulling on his tee. “Once I told youIwanted you, you hid in your studio. Whenever our paths crossed the last two nights, you took off as if I were Hannibal Lecter. True, I’m dying to eat you, just not in his way.”
My face must have matched my cherry-red top. It was all I’d thought of since he said those things to me. “You spent those two nights in the bar,” I shot back.
“I would have asked you to join me had I believed for a second you’d come.” His gaze lowered to my lips then drifted up to meet my eyes. My tummy flopped at his sensual stare. “Would you?”
This was heading into dangerous grounds.
“No. I’m on a deadline with a client’s work. Uh, thanks for fixing the machine.” I pivoted, grabbed my purse from the counter, and shoved it in my bag. Truth was, I had no idea how to handle a guy like him. He drew me like an irresistible flame, and I didn’t want to get burned again. I’d barely survived Devyn. Hell, I wasstillstruggling to move past him.
“Logan?”
“What?” I spun around, and my heart nearly leaped out my throat. He was standing so close.
“You’re trying really hard to dislike me. So I might as well give you a reason to.” He slipped a hand around my nape, and before I realized what was happening, his mouth lowered to mine. And then he was kissing me. Not hard and demanding like I’d expected, but tenderly.
His lips glided over mine in a kiss so sensual, my resistance melted. My knees caved. His arms tightened around me, and I could feel every inch of his hard body pressed against mine. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth. He sucked on my lower lip as if tasting, memorizing me for an endlessly long moment and desire surged. A tiny moan escaped me.
Max made a low sound in his throat, somewhere between a hum and a growl. It was incredibly hot. Then he pressed his mouth to mine once more and raised his head. I blinked dazedly at him, caught in a maelstrom of emotions. His thumb caressed my moist bottom lip—a touch I felt all the way to my damp, achy core.
“The next time my mouth is on yours, it won’t be for a simple taste, and it won’t just be on these lips either,” he said softly. “I will take everything you have, then I will demand more. Later, dancing girl.”
He picked up his tote from the floor and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me shaken to my very bones.
I stared at the empty doorway, a hand pressed to my churning stomach. Why had I thought that I could keep him at arm’s length? Max played by his own rules, ones I realized I had no hope of beating—he wanted me, and nothing would stop him, unless I accepted this attraction between us or moved far away. But I couldn’t do that either.
