Chapter 14
Fourteen
Louise
It’s either very late—or very early—when I wake to the sound of the lock disengaging.
The door opens and closes almost silently.
Blinking my eyes open blearily, I sit up from where I’d fallen asleep slumped in the corner of the couch, the throw blanket I’d pulled over myself slipping down my shoulder to land in a pool in my lap.
I hate the sigh of relief that escapes at seeing him. He looks exhausted and his face is smudged with dirt and soot. But he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
His steps slow when he sees that I’m awake, and he reaches up to scrub one dirty hand over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was trying to be quiet.”
His voice is low and soft in the darkness of the room that surrounds us. It’s intimate in a way I can’t explain. Like the darkness shrouds everything else and all the reasons we absolutely shouldn’t be feeling the way we do disappear.
I can’t stop these feelings I have, and I have this suspicion that he can’t, either.
Like the way he’d stared at me before walking out the door earlier.
I stand, rounding the corner of the couch, painfully aware that my sleep shorts have ridden high up the insides of my thick thighs, and my tank top does little to hide much, too.
“How bad was it?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my waist. I’d searched social media and found very little information on the fire but had read that it was consuming one of the apartment complexes in town.
He sighs, shaking his head. “Total loss of all six units. One fatality.”
Tears prick my eyes. I can’t even imagine. “Will there be any kind of support? For the families, I mean?”
“Usually,” he says softly, nodding. “I’ve seen extended family members or friends of the family do fundraisers and clothing drives for donations. For something like this, having affected multiple families, the community will probably do a benefit.”
“I’d like to help, if I can.” Nodding to him then, I whisper, “Go take a shower and get some sleep. I’ll stay and get up with the girls in couple hours so you can rest, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“You don’t have to do that. You can head back to your place—”
“And leave Chloe to try and figure out breakfast in the morning? We’d be calling the crew here next,” I laugh quietly, shaking my head. “I don’t work tomorrow, I’m happy to help. I’m glad I was home.”
He sighs again, reaching up to clasp one of those big, strong hands at the back of his neck.
I can see the muscles in his forearm flex when he squeezes the back of his neck tight with his fingers.
“Fuck, so am I. Thank you for coming over to sit with the girls so I could go. Normally my Mom helps out, but—”
“It’s seriously no trouble,” I assure him. “Go take a shower.”
“You saying I stink?” he teases, passing me on his way toward the hall.
I wave my hand in front of my nose, making a face, then wink. “I would never be so rude to say that out loud.”
His chuckle is deep and makes me smile. Dammit, this man is too handsome. Especially this late at night and a little loopy from exhaustion. I drop back into the corner of the couch and pull the blanket over my lap as he nods and walks down the hallway.
The light for the bathroom clicks on and illuminates the hallway for just a moment before the door closes, shrouding everything in darkness again.
I’m exhausted, too. It’s late. But the second I hear the shower thrum to life; all I can think about is how Zach is naked less than twenty feet away. Naked and wet and soapy and—
Shaking my head, I snatch up my phone and scroll through social media to distract myself.
Don’t think about Zach.
Do not think about Zach naked.
Don’t do it, Lou.
I mean, it doesn’t help. But at least I can say I tried.
My eyes have started to droop when I hear the bathroom door open and footsteps heading toward me once again.
Glancing over my shoulder, I’m suddenly wide awake, and I remind myself to breathe when he walks into the living room in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, a clean t-shirt gripped in his hands as he pulls it on over his head.
I get the briefest glimpse of his bare chest and abdomen before it disappears beneath the t-shirt.
He scrubs one hand through his dark, wet hair, tousling the strands and pushing it away from his forehead.
“How were the girls for you tonight?” he asks quietly, glancing over at me where I’m still sitting in the corner of the couch. “They didn’t give you any trouble, right?”
Breathe, Lou. Words. Remember words. “Uhh—no not at all. I woke them up around two in the morning, brought out the stripper pole and taught them how to—”
His bark of laughter and the wide, shocked grin that spreads across his face cuts off the sass and makes me smile. He shakes his head and regards me with those blue eyes I hate to admit I like so damn much. “Jesus Christ, Lou. You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I laugh, winking. He heads toward the kitchen, and I push myself up from my spot on the couch again. “Gotta keep you on your toes, old man. But seriously, they were fine. Not a peep out of any of them.”
He grunts another laugh. “Fuck, now you sound like Scar when she talks to her dad. I’m not as old as the chief, thank you very much. And that’s good. Chloe is a bear if she doesn’t get enough sleep.”
“What, only ten-ish years behind him? Not headed to the retirement home just yet?” I tease, following him as he heads into the kitchen. He takes a glass out of one of the cabinets and fills it with water, turning so that he’s leaning against the counter, facing me.
“Louise, I would love nothing more than to show you just how not old I am,” he rasps, raising the glass to his lips.
Stunned by the flirty, dirty response, so vastly different than the aloof man that’s avoided me all week, I’m utterly transfixed watching as he swallows the water down, his throat working as he finishes the entire glass in one go.
Those blue eyes are on me the whole time. The heat in them… is it hot in here?
Just me? Great.
Setting the glass down on the counter beside him without taking his gaze off mine, through the dark, he rasps, “We’ve been over this. Don’t look at me like that, Princess.”
“Like what?” I whisper back, tauntingly. Honestly, how the fuck am I not supposed to look at him like this after what he just said? He just completely derailed my brain with that statement.
I’m only human, dammit. Boy hiatus or not, when a man that looks like Zach looks at me like he wants to devour me whole… what’s a girl to do?
I swallow hard, my eyes bouncing between his and his mouth. Shit, at this point, how many times have I fantasized about that mouth? About what that short-trimmed beard and mustache might feel like against my lips? Against the delicate skin on the inside of my thighs, against my clit…
“Like that.”
My eyes snap up to his again before dropping to his hands, where they’re now gripping the edge of the counter he’s leaned against, like the hold he has on that edge is the only thing holding him back.
Through the darkness, his words are so low, so soft, so tortured.
It makes me ache. I’m damn near holding my breath to keep from panting.
“Fuck, Lou. You look at me like that… and I start to forget why I’m fighting this so damn hard.”
Oh. Shit.
My core clenches and I lose the battle with trying to regulate my breathing. I want that. I want him to stop fighting this. I want him to give in, so damn badly.
I just want him.
I want to know what it feels like to have those big arms wrap around me, what those hands might feel like grabbing hold of me. How that mouth would trail over every inch of me.
Would he be rough? Gentle?
Both?
God, please let it be both.
“Louise,” he groans, dropping his chin slightly, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “You can’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?” I whisper back, licking my lips. I know why. And I shouldn’t be encouraging it.
His eyes zero in on the movement and I can see the way his jaw tightens in reflex. His fingers clamp down tighter on the ledge of the counter at his sides.
Anchoring himself in place.
Hiatus be damned. I want Zach.
I like Zach. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.
Taking a small step forward, I drop my arms from where I’ve had them crossed over my stomach.
I’m braless—I hadn’t had much time to change when he’d come knocking on my door hours ago—and I don’t even care that my nipples are straining through the thin material.
His eyes don’t dip from mine, though I watch as his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
“Why not, Zach?” I ask again, taking another step forward. There’s only about five feet that separates us now. Another step. Four. Another. Three.
Another brings us close enough that if either of us reached out, we could touch the other.
His gaze is hot, fierce, as he stares down at me.
Chest rising and falling unsteadily beneath the t-shirt stretched across it.
The black and gray floral tattoo on his right arm extends from beneath the short sleeve and clear down to his wrist. I love it.
I’ve stared at it far too many times. I also so badly want to know if there are any more tattoos hiding beneath his clothes.
“I can’t,” he groans out, the words pure gravel. Pained. “My hands are tied. You know that.”
“They don’t look tied to me,” I whisper. Taunting.
He groans, dropping his chin until it nearly touches his chest. “You know what I mean. I can’t want you like this, Louise. Not right now. Not with what’s at stake on my end.”
“But you do.”