Page 45 of Levi

“Course not. You believe in comps and closing costs and a hard crease in your slacks. But you’ll take one anyway and eat it. You feel bad about the refrigerator, I’m standing here dripping on the floor waiting for you to pick, and you’re polite.”

He reaches in and takes the powdered sugar one.

My smile gets bigger. “That’s a surprise. Didn’t figure you for a man who’d risk powdered sugar on his clothes.”

I’m standing here buck-ass naked underneath a towel that’s barely hanging on my hip. He takes a bite of the donut, powdered sugar dropping everywhere, and he doesn’t brush it off.

There’s sugar on his dark shirt right now and he hasn’t so much as glanced at it, because he’s looking at me. Longer than a bite of donut needs. I feel the warmth of those eyes heating me up again and I’ll be hard in two seconds if he doesn’t knock it off.

When I reach into the box, his eyes drop lower again. Just for a second, down off my face to the towel and back up. I catch it. I don’t know what to do with catching it, never have.

Dante looked down at the towel. And God help me, I want him to do it again.

“You’ve got sugar on your shirt,” I tell him.

“I’m aware.”

“The Dante I met Saturday would’ve brushed that off before it hit the fabric.”

“The Dante you met Saturday had places to be.”

“And this one?”

He doesn’t answer. His thumb moves once against the marble, the one part of him not holding still, and I add it to the pile of things I’ve started keeping about him.

I pick up a chocolate glazed and shift my weight, hip against the island, the marble the only thing holding the towel up now, and I watch him go stiller. I swallow a bite of donut and he watches me do it. His pulse jumps in his neck.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

He lifts his eyes off the box and holds them on mine, dead level, and I can see what it costs him to keep them there. The easy thing would be to let them fall and he’s decided he doesn’t get the easy thing. I can see it on his face.

“Eat your donut, Levi.”

“Don’t rush me. I’m getting to it in my own sweet time. As you can see, I just got out of the shower and I’m still dripping wet.”

“You’ve been getting to it a while. You’re using it to keep me standing here.”

“Is it working?” I grin at him. Can’t help it.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw clenches, and his eyes drop — a flicker, down and back — and this time he knows I caught it. He’s dying to take a good, long look and damn if I don’t want him to.

Then it’s gone again.

Whatever was in that look has gone back behind the face he wears, the one that doesn’t let anything out. He’s good at that. Better than me. I’d give a lot to be that good at it. But he can lock that face down all he wants.

I know what I saw. And I won’t forget it.

“Did you make the ten o’clock check-in?” he asks.

“I did.”

He nods, takes another bite. I think we’re done. I’m wrong.

“Who’s tracking your phone, Levi?”

Fuck.