Chapter 30

He looked down his nose at her, seemingly hesitant but curious.

"Nope." She ran her fingers over the white silk mask, giving him a minute. "It's the middle of the night, everyone's asleep, we're alone, and nothing bad is going to happen."

Up went his brows. "Who are you trying to convince?" He took the mask from her and put the band around his head, then slipped the material over his eyes. "Do your worst, baby."

No, she'd do her best, but she grabbed her plate and set it next to them on the cushion in silence. Then, she leaned forward, crushing her chest to his, and kissed him. She ran her fingers across his wide shoulders, down to his biceps, loving the soft skin over hard muscle.

He tensed, but eventually participated and set his hands on top of her thighs, thumbs stroking the deeper he sank. His touch was as tender as the kiss, surprising her. They'd had brief moments where passion hadn't kicked in the door, but not like now where he seemed more interested in showing her a part of himself rather than telling.

Drawing a ragged breath, he pulled away. "If this is the point where you bust out handcuffs and"

"Wrong kind of experiment."

He grunted. "I can't tell if I'm disappointed or relieved."

Laughing against his lips, she reached for a piece of pineapple. "Open your mouth."

He hesitated, then did as she asked.

She traced his lips with the fruit. "Take a bite."

Breathing irregular, he sank his teeth into the pineapple and chewed. A drip of juice fell onto his chin and he went to wipe it away, but she used her tongue instead. Licking a slow path up to his mouth, she paused as he groaned.

"What does it taste like?"

His brows furrowed. "Pineapple?"

"Describe it." While he appeared to be thinking, she kept her fingers moving. Over his throat, collarbone, to the hard discs of his nipples. The longer she caressed, the more his erratic breathing escalated. "Tell me."

His fingers clenched her thighs. "Uh...sweet. Juicy?"

As a reward, she kissed him again, deep, and ground her hips against his thickening erection. Back during their interlude in her bedroom, she'd learned he was big everywhere. Nine perfect inches covered in velvet skin. And she wanted all of him. Soon. He wasn't ready yet, though. He still wasn't taking much initiative.

A harsh inhale, and he cupped her jaw, his need apparent as he pulsed between her legs. "Damn, Olivia."

"More?" She reached for a strawberry and brought it to his lips.

This time, he bit into the fruit without wavering. While he chewed, his hands trailed to her throat. Lower. He teased the neckline of her shirt with his callused fingers. "Tastes like summer." He dipped his head and kissed her neck, setting off a thunderous tremble from deep within her core. "Let me amend that statement. Summer and rain. You make everything taste better."

Which meant he was tasting. Not just seeing food as a basic necessity, but as something pleasurable. She broke off a small piece of the brownie and waited for him to lift his head.

He took it from her, but immediately stilled as if perplexed. "I haven't had dessert in...I can't remember." He swallowed. Before she could respond, he tore the mask off and stared at her. Confusion. Interest. Surprise. His dark eyes searched hers. "Never really cared for sweets."

"Why?"

His gaze skimmed over her face and he shrugged. "Didn't have them often, I guess."

"And now?" She broke off another chunk and held it out for him.

He glanced from the brownie to her and back again. As if unsure, he gripped her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. Gaze locked on hers, he sucked her fingers, swirling his tongue.

Dang, nothing was sexier than that move right there. Erotic and intense. She wondered who was playing whom all of a sudden. Her lungs struggled to cooperate while her pulse thumped, her heart pounded, and her panties grew damper by the millisecond.

He swallowed, still watching her as he eased her fingers out of his mouth. "I could learn to like it." A battle waged in his expression. For what, she hadn't a clue, but then he blinked like he was attempting to focus. "I could more than like it."

An exhale, and he rested his head on the back of the couch. He gingerly swiped a strand of hair from her forehead, tracing the stitches with his fingertips. Chocolate gaze on the movement, full lips twisted in thought, he looked like he was a million miles away.

"I did think you were dead." His gaze slid to hers. "Hank was right, though. I don't remember saying it aloud."

"I'm not. I'm right here."

"Since you instigated this twisted heart-to-heart, I'll be honest." He offered a slight shake of his head. "When I found you, I swear, my heart stopped. It hasn't beat right since. I don't know what you're doing to me or why you're hell-bent on trying to fix me, but..." He shook his head again as if at a loss for how to finish.

"Fixing you implies that you're broken." With a heavy heart, she wondered if it was possible to undo a lifetime of damage. "There's nothing wrong with you, aside from a misguided sense of guilt."

He gave her a frustrated, not-this-again look and glanced away.

She gripped his chin with her thumb and forefinger to make him face her. "Tell me something good about yourself that you do well. And don't say fucking."

His lashes fluttered in a rapid blink as if shocked by her curse.

"Yes, I swear." She smiled. "I don't do it often, but I'm capable. Fuckity fuck-fuck. Now, tell me something good about yourself."

Affection warmed his eyes as humor curved his lips. "I'm great at reading people."

Interesting. "Maybe you should take Rip up on his offer of a job, then. Police work would suit you." She inhaled his scent of soap and warm male, wanting to burrow into him. She absolutely adored him all gooey around the edges as much as the alpha side he tried to cage. "Read me, Nathan. What do you see?"

His hands settled on her waist. "I see a woman who was so intent on making her little brother feel secure after their parents died that she grew a fierce independent streak and forgot altogether how to put her needs first." His thumbs stroked her ribs over her shirt. "She's breathlessly beautiful and knows it, but doesn't have a vain bone in her body and gets suspicious when someone's attracted to her. She uses humor to put people at ease, even if she's uncomfortable herself, because she doesn't have an inkling how not to be selfless." He paused. "How am I doing so far?"

How was he doing? Dang. "Forget Rip. You should work for the FBI."

He nodded, expression serious. "And the way you look at me sometimes, like right now, with warmth and adoration, indicates you're slipping into dangerous territory. The more time we spend together, the deeper you embed, and it's wrong. I don't like it."

"I think you do like it. Too much. Which scares the crap out of you."

Unflinching, unblinking, he went stone-cold still and stared. "You're a square peg and I'm a round hole, baby. We don't fit."

"Then we'll build our own world in the shape of us."

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then exhaled and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. "Christ, you have an answer for everything."

"Not everything." She might be getting through to him on a surface level, but she'd failed to penetrate. Regardless, she wrapped her arms around his head and held him to her. "Life is scary, more so if navigating alone."

"Justin used to say that." His low admission was slurred since his face was pressed against her, but his tone was contrite.

"It's one of Aunt Mae's phrases."

He turned his head, kissed her neck, and rested his temple on her shoulder. "He talked about you all the time. I thought you were twins until he corrected me."

"We were as close as twins. Looked enough alike, too."

He grunted. "Felt like I knew you long before I arrived in town or saw your face, but I was wrong."

Taking that as the compliment she hoped he intended it to be, she thought about Justin's letter and the mention of Nate. "Did he know? About your past, I mean."

"I told him about juvie, but not how I ended up there. And that I was a foster kid."

That cemented the footprints of suspicion in her mind. This whole "watching over her" promise Nate had made to Justin never sat right. Her brother knew very well she could handle herself. Perhaps part of him wanted someone to take care of her for a change, but it wasn't about her so much as it was for Nate. To give him a home and a family and support and purpose.

Everything he'd never had in his short thirty years.

He ran his hand up and down her back. "I call it verbal diarrhea. Ten minutes with him and he'd get me talking. Pissed me off." He lifted his head, brows raised. "Not unlike another redhead I know." He smiled, full and wide and like a punch to her abdomen. "You're much better to look at, though."