Searching for Beautiful(86)

Their gazes caught and locked. Her lips throbbed and she wanted to press her fingers to her mouth and confirm that the kiss had really happened. The floor seemed unstable under her feet. The clean scent of his soap and lemon lingered. Her body pulsed with need to finally put an end to the torture, but she pummeled it back at the sight of his expression.

Reserved. All emotion was wiped away and there was only . . . distance. A polite distance. A friendly distance.

Her gut clenched. Fighting off the sickness, she turned and opened the door to Arilyn.

Her friend floated in with two leashes in hand and squirming, happy puppies. “Hi, Wolfe. Hope I didn’t interrupt breakfast.” She must’ve caught the odd aura in the air because she trailed off, glancing back and forth. “Or something.”

Gen forced a smile. “Nope, we just finished. Didn’t we?”

Wolfe gave her a moody look. She held her breath, but he slowly nodded. “Yeah. We did.”

Gen dropped to her knees and buried her face in comforting fur. She refused to let him see how much he’d hurt her. “I’m ready for the park,” she said brightly. The black-and-white mottled puppies jumped up and down, swiping her cheeks with wet tongues and nibbling on her fingers with sharp baby teeth. Maybe she’d get a dog. They always made her feel happy. “Are you going to the office, Wolfe?”

“Not today.”

His curt words made Arilyn stare at him. Gen stood up, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. “See ya later.”

She felt his gaze boring into her back as she stumbled in the need for escape. Gen grabbed one of the leashes and ignored Arilyn’s raised brow. Screw it. She’d have a nice day with her friends and dogs and eat ice cream, and then she’d go home early and get ready for her date. Much better if he didn’t return until tomorrow. Tomorrow, the balance might be back in order.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Gonna tell me what’s going on?” Arilyn asked.

“No.”

Her friend gave a soft laugh. “Didn’t think so. I’m here if you need me though.”

“I know. And I’m here if you ever want to talk about Yoga Man.”

They shared a knowing look, then burst into laughter.





nineteen

HE WAS LOSING his mind.

Wolfe paced the small kitchen and waited for Gen to come out of the bedroom. He’d already texted her this afternoon to apologize for being an asshole. She quickly forgave him via a smiley face on the phone, but he sensed there was something much bigger and more complicated seething under the surface.

He’d kissed her.

Again.

A groan spilled from his lips, and he pulled a beer from the fridge. Her taste would haunt him forever. So sweet. Better than juicy fruit and sticky honey. The way her body molded to his, responding as if she had no choice, swept up in a hurricane or tornado or some type of God-driven event. Silky skin and wild hair.

He’d been two seconds from taking her against the wall. Or the floor. Or the counter. If Arilyn hadn’t walked in, who knows what would’ve happened. The possibility haunted him all day until he felt halfway insane.

He shouldn’t be here. Most of the morning was spent at the gym. Her announcement shattered any rational thought and splintered his brain with two of the sexiest words on the planet.

Tattoo.

Brazilian.

He wouldn’t be seeing either of them. Maybe her date would. Hell, Wolfe knew he should stay put in his apartment and ride out the storm. Tomorrow, things might be better between them. Back to good old friendship.

Wolfe cracked open the top and guzzled. The icy liquid soothed his throat but did nothing to quench the thirst in his soul. Odds were good nothing physical would happen tonight. Gen might talk a good game, and her body might want sex, but her head and heart usually got in the way. She wasn’t built for one-night stands. Not like him.

He figured he owed her an apology in person. He’d square things up, then leave her alone.

The bedroom door burst open.

Wolfe sucked in his breath. She was gorgeous. Her hair fell in neat ringlets that his fingers itched to mess up. She’d lined her eyes with some type of black that made the navy blue depths jump right out and grip tight. The smattering of freckles across her nose made his lips want to follow the trail, ending at her plump pink mouth.

But the dress killed him.

He knew about the little black dress. This one was little, all right. With her curves, the hemline rode up a bit higher than normal, showcasing her muscled calves and generous hips. The material was some weblike lace substance or crochet, knit together in a delicate pattern that stretched over her breasts and plunged dangerously to a V like a thrill-seeking ride plummeting down a dangerous hill.