by Bethany-Kris
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t. You do.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. “I like things.”
“Things like watches and Converse?”
“Yes, on the first, and when I was a bit younger and could get away with them, for the second.”
Violet nodded, more to herself than him. “And you’ve never thought to get rid of them?”
“Why would I get rid of them?”
His question had come out sounding so confused that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“You don’t wear them, you said.”
Kaz shrugged. “I’m not seeing your point.”
“You’re one of those, then,” Violet said.
“One of—what?”
“You probably have something in this closet from at least ten years ago, but because it might still fit and you may wear it again someday, you won’t get rid of it.”
“Wrong,” he said.
Violet straightened, turning to stare him down. “I bet I could find something. I probably already did, but overlooked it because your Converse collection distracted me.”
“I never said I didn’t wear the Converse, just that I don’t wear them as often. And I bet you own at least thirty pairs of shoes, if not more, so I’m not sure where this conversation is going.”
“Ten,” Violet said.
Kaz leaned against the doorjamb. “Ten what?”
“Ten pairs of shoes. Two of which are black because it goes with everything. One pair of flats. Sneakers. Two sets of kitten heels, pink and red. And four other heels that make my legs look great. Nice try, though.”
“Huh.”
“Surprising, is it?” she asked.
“Considering who your mother is, it kind of is.”
Violet tossed him a simpering smile. “Surface appearances lie, Kaz. You should know that better than most people. But, to be fair, those ten pairs of shoes can interchange at any time depending on weather, season, or how pissed off I am at any given thing.”
“And what do you do with the old ones?”
“Unlike you, I don’t keep them.”
He laughed, hard and loud. “So did you find what you were looking for?”
“Hmm?”
“You couldn’t have started in here,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if this was all you got around to.”
“You have quite a stack of mail to sort through,” she replied.
Kaz grinned. “That I do.”
“And your living room looks like a show floor. I suspect you don’t spend much time in it.”
“Busy,” he offered.
Violet took his word for it, but she thought it might be a bit more, too. Like maybe he was too high-strung on any given day to sit down and just enjoy his surroundings. He was probably always on the go, and this apartment was simply the place he stopped to rest and not much else.
“Are my drawers safe?” he asked.
Violet tipped her chin up, defiant and coy. “I’ll never tell.”
“If anything goes missing, I know where to find you.”
His joking tone took away what little anxiety might still have been lingering inside of Violet.
“Aren’t you scared I know all of your secrets now?” she asked.
Kaz shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Let me guess—because you don’t leave them lying around for anyone to find?”
“No, this place is full of surprises to find. It’s got tighter security than even my father’s house. That’s not why at all.”
Violet’s brow furrowed. “Then why?”
“Because the only thing that I’m really concerned with keeping hidden at the moment is standing just a few feet away from me.”
Oh.
She fidgeted with her manicured nails as Kaz finally took a step into the walk-in closet—although it was big enough to be a small bedroom—she suspected that’s exactly what it had been at one time, before he remodeled—and shrugged his jacket off. As he grabbed a garment bag down from the many sections of bars meant for hanging clothes, her gaze was drawn down to the ruddy, smeared stains at the middle of his white shirt.
Violet knew better than to ask, but her mouth worked faster than her brain. “Is that blood?”
Kaz didn’t even look down to see what she was talking about. “Yes, my brother’s.”
She flinched inwardly. “Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for if you weren’t the one telling lies, remember?”
“I told you that I didn't do that, Kaz.”
“And I believe you,” he murmured. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Violet didn’t quite know how he wanted her to respond, nor how she wanted to, so she chose not to say anything at all. Kaz side-stepped her as he lifted his wrist slightly, and unlinked the cuff of the watch he wore to place it into an empty slot in one of the many turning displays.
As she watched him begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, Violet took a quick breath. She had known the moment that he hadn’t directed his vehicle back toward Manhattan that a suggestion was in the air, hanging silently between them. He had only confirmed it further when he told her she could ask to go home at any time, and he would take her there.
She wasn’t a dumb woman—she heard his unspoken words loud and clear.
Violet figured she had answered them just as clearly, simply by being where she was.
And yet, seeing Kaz readying for the evening like he was done for the day, only seemed to heighten her realization of just how far she had gone with him already tonight.
Violet chewed on her bottom lip.
What was a little farther going to hurt?
He had her so curious—what would feeding it do?
“What?” Kaz asked.
Violet’s gaze jumped up to him. “Pardon?”
“You’ve been staring at my hands for the last two minutes.”
Had she?
“Thinking,” Violet supplied.
It was only then that she realized he hadn’t finished undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, and had only gotten through the first two. But since the very top two had already been undone before he began, her eyes were drawn to the barest hint of ink under his shirt that was peeking out.
There was no denying the fact that Kaz was a sight to be seen with his tall, fit form, his darkly handsome features, and an attitude that almost screamed for someone to back off.
Subtly, Kaz tilted his head, still watching her like he could read her mind. That unsettled her just a bit—enough to put her off balance, and nervous under his eye.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
Violet stilled on the spot. “Do what?”
“That—overthink and worry. I wouldn’t take you for the kind of girl who turns shy when a man looks at you. Don’t you know how beautiful you are?”
That was not what she expected him to say.
“I’m not shy,” Violet said.
“Good. Because I lack the couth it takes to make a woman comfortable in her own skin. And I don’t want to, either. You shouldn’t need me to—not looking like you do.”
Well, then …
Violet didn’t feel as unnerved under Kaz’s heavy gaze as he regarded her for a second time, letting his stare wander down her body and back up again. Almost imperceptibly, his gray irises darkened, his lips edged up in one corner, and his tongue snaked out to wet his bottom lip before disappearing again.
It made her aware of his intentions fully.
And it made her hot.
She knew what he had done immediately.
He lied—he had the couth to do it, he just didn’t want to, and so he did it in his with his own style.
“Well played,” Violet whispered.
Kaz winked. “I thought so.”
He continued his work of undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as if she wasn't watching him like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen all day a
nd he wasn't the least bit bothered by her attention. Or that she had a better view of the tattoos on his fingers, like the circle with a dot in the middle, or the cross on a dark background—she wondered what they meant. As he pulled the shirt off entirely, Violet’s mouth went dry. The white fabric hung loosely from his fist as Kaz turned slightly, giving her a full view of the artwork she had only gotten a bare glimpse of earlier.
There were the twin stars inked just beneath his collarbone, one on either side of his chest, but what captured her attention the most were the three Russian cathedral domes tattooed on his chest. They were tattooed with incredible detail, as though the artist had spent hours painstakingly crafting each one. But despite how much space the tattoo took up on his chest, it was the only one she could see besides the stars.
Despite how easily she could get caught up in his tattoos and what they might mean to him, her gaze was quickly taking in the rest of his bare chest, too. The slight tease of his shirts stretching across his pecs and hinting at what was beneath did not do him justice. The man was cut—defined ridges and a hard “V” where his pants hung low on his hips that demanded exploring, especially that light dusting of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline.
Jesus.
Kaz was goddamn gorgeous.
She decided the eight-pointed stars were her favorite, though.
Kaz caught her staring again, but Violet wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “See something you like?”
His arrogance was amusing. Most men thought themselves as confident, mysterious, and cocky all rolled into one, but they just came off as assholes. Kaz didn’t even have to try, he was all those things rolled into one—including the asshole, sometimes—and Violet liked it a lot.
“Yes,” she said, shrugging.
“Straightforward, are you?”
“I’m not a liar, Kaz.”
What else did he expect?
“Do they mean something?” she asked, her stare dropping down to his tattoos again.
“Yes,” Kaz said.
“What?”
“It’s a story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
“What story?” she asked.
“Mine.”
Violet stilled when Kaz moved directly in front of her, almost crowding her. He lifted his right hand, and his fingers skimmed under the collar of the bomber jacket she wore.
Quietly but surely, he asked, “Can I?”
She nodded.
Kaz pulled at the collar of her jacket until it started to fall down her arms. Once the item hit the floor, his attention was back on her. His fingers grazed her neck with a soft touch, surprising her.
“Not shy,” he said, almost like a reminder.
His softness was gone just like that. The pads of his fingers pressed into her collarbones and traveled lower to the neckline of her tank-top, wicked and promising. A huskiness colored up his tone, making her shiver.
Violet shook her head. “Not shy, Kaz.”
How could she be shy under his regard when he was making it seem like she was the one and only thing he wanted to look at?
Again, Kaz stepped closer. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his chest brush her arm as he leaned slightly to the side and tossed his white shirt into a small garbage bin behind them.
“Blood doesn’t wash out,” he said, more to himself than to her.
Violet was still listening. “Shame. I liked that shirt.”
She could almost see his smirk when he replied, “I think you liked the person wearing it more.”
“Maybe. But maybe not.”
“You’ll never tell, huh?”
Violet turned her head, catching his eye with her own. “Nope.”
Apparently, that look was all Kaz needed. Violet barely took a breath just a blink before his mouth was on hers. Her lips parted the second his tongue struck at the seam, demanding entrance. His hand landed to her waist as his other caught her right under her jaw. Her back hit a row of shelves as her hand grabbed the belt at his waist. He tipped her head back, and his hand slid lower on her throat.
Because those hands—she liked his hands.
But it was his tongue seeking hers, and his groan building deep in the back of his throat that made her ache.
Kaz pulled back, just enough to let her take in a sharp breath. He was still close enough that his stubble scraped her lips as he watched her under dark, lowered lashes.
What was he waiting for?
What did he want?
Violet didn’t have the patience to be tampered and teased. She let her fingers unfurl from his belt, and her fingernails dragged down his stomach, insistent and firm. Kaz crowded her again, letting her feel the hard length of his erection digging into her body.
“So sweet,” he murmured.
Violet blinked. “Am I?”
“Your mouth. It makes me wonder what else might taste sweet on you.”
She swallowed hard. “Care to find out?”
“I’ll get there.”
His words sounded like a promise.
Entirely.
Violet’s fingers dug into the railroad path of Kaz’s abdominal muscles when his lips found hers again, rough and hot. She suddenly felt hyperaware of his hands as one traveled down her side and the other moved from her waist to the hem of her shirt. She let him fist the material of the top and pull it up. He only broke the kiss long enough to toss her shirt somewhere behind him on the floor.
Those hands of his, so insistent and wanting, pushed her shoulders, driving her harder into the shelves. Violet didn’t even mind, she just yanked him closer.
“Off,” he demanded, fingers curling under her bra straps. “Let me take it off, or you do it. But it comes off now.”
Here would have been the best time, she thought, to tell him to stop.
Before he took anymore from her—before she gave him anymore. Before he had the chance to see or have parts of her that weren’t supposed to be meant for him, and that she wasn’t supposed to show.
It should have been the time, but it wasn’t.
Violet’s smaller hands enclosed his, letting him pull the straps down around her arms. Kaz’s gaze lowered when his palms slid across her sensitive skin, and pushed the lacy cups of the bra away. She sighed when the pads of his thumbs brushed over her pebbling nipples once, then twice.
At the third swipe, her exhale was a little more ragged than the last.
“Those sounds,” he said low.
Violet looked up to find him staring at her mouth.
“What about them?” she asked.
“I want more of them—louder.”
“Louder?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to remember them in the morning.”
Violet wet her bottom lip. “I suppose that depends on how this next part goes, huh?”
Kaz smirked. “That, I’m not worried about.”
She didn’t get the chance to respond before he was pulling her away from the wall without a word. Her bare feet stumbled over the jacket, and she fell into him. Kaz had her spinning around just as fast, and backed into the open door connecting to the bathroom. His next kiss was harder than the last, his teeth dragging over her lips as his hands worked at the clip on the front of her bra, taking it off, too. She tugged at his belt, getting it undone and loose enough to yank it from the loops.
A whine escaped from her throat when his teeth sunk into her jaw as he lifted her against the door. The fast movement shocked her for a second, leaving her breathless when she realized she wasn’t touching the floor anymore.
He lifted her easily—like she was a fucking feather and it was nothing for him.
With her legs wrapped tight around his waist, the insistent push of his hips against her center brought her attention right back to the erection under his pants and the throbbing between her thighs. It was enough to make her arch into him, wanting to feel more, and wanting less space and clothing between them.
“Fuck,” he mumbled into her n
eck.
Violet shuddered. “Yeah.”
Her back came away from the door, and she grabbed his jaw as he walked through into the bathroom, still holding her tight. His fingers dug into her backside hard enough to leave fingerprints behind. She pulled him in for another kiss that seared her from the inside out, his roughness leaving her skin stinging and her heart racing.
She couldn’t even feel the counter hit her ass until Kaz took a step back and let her go. But just as fast as he moved away, he was right back on her, fingers working at the button of her jeans until it was undone and he could pull the zipper down.
“Up,” he said hoarsely.
Violet complied, lifting up and using her hands on the counter to keep balanced as he tugged her jeans down her hips and over her legs. His hands met her bare thighs, fingers biting into her skin as he pulled her to the edge of the counter. A small tremor worked its way through her body when he eyed the blue lace panties that matched the bra he’d already pulled off.
“I swear women buy delicate shit like this just to see if a man will rip them off.”
Oh, God.
Violet’s teeth sunk into her lip. “I bought them because I liked them.”
Kaz lifted a single brow, watching her. “Then I won’t ruin them.”
“Should I thank you?”
“I won’t ruin them this time,” he pressed on.
That lump returned in Violet’s throat.
This time …
Because there would be more.
He wanted more.
So did she.
“Up,” he repeated.
Violet lifted again, allowing Kaz to peel her panties down her legs with a slowness that said he enjoyed taking them off a great deal more than he had when it was just her pants. She couldn’t help but hold her breath as his fingers grazed her skin. His gaze followed the path of her legs straight up to the junction between her thighs, and he moved forward again.
His hands were already back on her thighs the second her panties dropped to the floor. The softest tap of his palms to her inner thighs voiced his unspoken request. She answered it, widening her legs for him, and resting her trembling hands to the counter.
She thought he might take his time to look her over, take her in, entirely naked like she was. And he did, for a brief moment. Long enough to heat her blood, and make her think he had found exactly what he wanted, just by the way he opened his mouth to speak, and … nothing came out.
