Page 36

His hands move under the hem of my tank, palms sliding over bare skin. The touch is warm, deliberate, and much too good for someone I’m supposed to find annoying.

I pull back just long enough to drag my shirt over my head and toss it somewhere behind me.

Zander goes still.

Not surprised, or teasing. Just completely focused on me.

His gaze drops slowly, taking me in with enough heat that my skin feels warmer everywhere he looks. I should probably tell him to stop staring, but the truth is I like the way his expression changes when there’s nothing left between his eyes and my bare skin.

“See something you like?” I ask.

His eyes lift to mine. “A lot.”

The answer sends a sharp little rush through me, and I step closer, hooking my fingers under the hem of his shirt. “Then your turn.”

He lifts his arms, and I pull the shirt over his head. The second it’s gone, my hands are on him.

His skin is hot under my palms, his chest firm beneath my fingers as I slide them down over his stomach. I’ve seen all of this before, but touching him is nothing like looking at him across a tattoo table. There’s no machine between us now, no gloves, no reason to keep my attention anywhere except exactly where I want it.

His muscles tighten when my hands move lower, and the reaction shoots straight through me.

I avoid the still tender tattoo on his upper arm and let my fingers travel everywhere else, over his ribs, around his waist, back up his chest. Zander watches me the whole time, his eyes dark and fixed on my face like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.

“This is a terrible idea,” I murmur, even as I step closer.

“Probably.”

My hands slide down again, and his breath changes.

That tiny reaction is enough to make me want more.

His mouth curves. “You don’t look very concerned.”

“I’m not.”

Something sharp and satisfied moves through his expression before his hand closes around my waist and pulls me flush against him.

That’s all the agreement I need.

I kiss him again, harder this time, and whatever restraint was still hanging around disappears. His hands move over me with the same urgency as mine, and by the time we start toward the bedroom, neither of us is paying much attention to where we’re going.

Clothes end up scattered between the hall and the foot of the bed. Every time one of us stops long enough to get rid of something, the other closes the distance again.

Zander is competitive even here.

I bite his lower lip, and he answers by dragging his mouth down my neck until I forget what I was trying to prove. I shove him back onto the mattress, and he lets me have exactly three seconds of control before his hands are on my hips and I’m laughing breathlessly as he changes our positions.

“You’re annoying in bed too,” I tell him.

He looks entirely too pleased. “You haven’t even seen my full range of talent yet.”

“Cocky.”

“You started this.”

“You kissed me.”

“You said I talk too much.”