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Knew even less why she leaned closer.

As if it were a test she’d failed, his hand dropped away.

Probably for the best. And yet she still felt the heat of his touch like a brand.

Crossing to the side table, he extinguished the lamp. “Are you up here looking for your phone to contact Kyle? Are you in my house to spy on me?”

The abrupt darkness threw her. “I need Kyle back in the States—or at the very least for him to sign that document. Netta’s future depends on me finding him.”

“Admit that you came up here to snoop.” His clipped words reached her from deep in the shadows.

She tried for a nonchalant shrug in case his night vision was better than hers. “Jet lag. Couldn’t sleep.”

His voice shifted closer, and then he was suddenly there—inches away. The minty warmth of his breath ghosted across her neck, pebbling her nipples against the thin cotton of her tank top.

“So you decided to get your steps in.” He closed his teeth over her earlobe, and tugged. Softly. Teasing.

She almost came out of her too-tight skin.

How could she focus when he stood this close, nibbling on her ear like he had the right? She had to swallow twice before she trusted herself to speak. “Since you still haven’t told me anything, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“We appear to have a problem, Yarrow…”

The heat of him right behind her made it hard to breathe. She fought to keep her voice steady. “What kind of problem?”

“I gave you three rules.” His voice stroked along her nape like velvet. “You already broke two of them—and it hasn’t been a full day yet.”

“I don’t like rules. Didn’t grow up with any.”

“I like rules.” He trailed a single, deliberate finger from the top of her clavicle downward, over her breast, grazing her aching nipple. “Keeps the surprises away.”

His other hand remained at his side, giving her every opportunity to leave. She didn’t take it.

Little dots swam in her vision. She sucked in air, but it wasn’t enough. Her breath tripped again as he repeated the process, that maddening glide over her nipple, again and again. If she leaned back just a few inches, his lips would find her neck. God, she wanted to grab his hands and press them to her breasts, insist he stroke and knead—wanted to push back into his straining body.

She was wholeheartedly screwed. He was hunting her brother. She knew that. It didn’t seem to matter.

Instead, she stayed, letting her head drop to his shoulder as he tormented her, his refusal to touch her anywhere else a steely reminder that she was here of her own free will. She hated him for it.

She had to go. Now. While she still had an ounce of lucidity to work with.

Shoving away from him, Addison stumbled into the hallway, blindly searching for a light switch along the endless length of unfamiliar wall. Amber light flooded the landing before she could find it. Oliver had beat her to the switch.

Okay, good. Now she could get to her bedroom without spraining an ankle.

She didn’t want to look at him, but her gaze shifted to him all on its own. The hallway lights were brighter than the sad excuse for a lamp in his office, illuminating the muscular contours of his chest.

He was paler than in photos from before. The images she’d seen online had captured him on digs in Greece, and sunbathing on tropical beaches with his then-girlfriend, Ashley… something. Whatever happened to her?

His skin must have not seen sunlight since the accident.

“You going to gawk long?”

That anger again. That defensiveness.

Bringing attention to his physical appearance hadn’t been her intent, but it had drained all heat from his gaze.

Bristling, she crossed her arms. “I’m not gawking—I mean, I was, but not because…” She took a breath. “You look pale.”