Page 23 of Unleashing Chaos

My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to break right out of it and flop onto the floor. “Of course. What’s up?”

“I have a friend who is looking for some marketing material for a business she just bought, and your style would work perfectly for her.”

“That’s amazing, just give me five to shower and change clothes.”

“No problem. Jace, this is exactly why you’re invaluable. I know I can count on you.”

I can’t help but beam from ear to ear as I enter my bedroom. “Thank you. You don’t know what that means to me.”

“Of course. Talk to you soon.”

I say goodbye and set my phone on my dresser. Walking to the bathroom, I reach behind me, grab my collar, and pull my shirt over my head.

“Jace, wait!”

I yank the wet fabric from my head and stand stunned in the doorway of my bathroom. Desi is sitting in my bathtub with bubbles foaming over the top. Her eyes are wide, and she grips the side as if she is about to stand. Rays of sunlight shine through the frosted window behind her, and I learn firsthand what her hair looks like in the early morning light. The shock of finding her like this is accompanied by the pure panic of knowing she invaded my personal space without asking.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask, my voice deep and ricocheting off the walls.

She just stares at me, her bright-green eyes trailing down my body and back up until they land on my chest, and I have a feeling it isn’t because my pecs are ripped. But she cuts her gaze from my scarred flesh, still struck silent.

“Desideria!” I snap, trying to pull her from whatever stupor she’s stuck in.

“I am so sorry!” she blurts, shaking her head and drawing her knees up in front of her chest. “I woke up and I was going to get ready to go grocery shopping, and I could tell it was cold outside, and one thing I miss so much about living at home is taking baths, and, well, I just thought I could borrow your huge tub this once and you’d never know.” She hangs her head again and buries her hands in her hair. “The more I talk, the worse it sounds. Look, I’m really sorry.”

I run my palm over my chest. It’s just as much to calm my frazzled nerves as it is to hide the gnarly scar on my left pec. I don’t miss the way she sneaks a peek at it, hiding the action behind a failed attempt to seem casual. This is a feeling I despise. I’m in the one room in the house that no one enters without my permission. Desideria hasn’t just come into my room without me knowing; she’s seeing parts of me I’d rather keep hidden. Anger builds inside me, searing through my veins until I’ve reached my boiling point.

“I’m starting to believe that you enjoy irritating me,” I say through gritted teeth. “First you mess with the cups in my kitchen, putting them the wrong way. Then you call me to rescue you from a shithole nightclub after I warned you to be careful. Now you’re moving in on my personal space. I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”

Her jaw drops and she lets her knees slide from her grip. I feel like a hypocrite; for all my talk about privacy I can’t help my gaze sliding down to where the bubbles are starting to dissipate around her curves. But her sharp tongue sends my eyes back to hers real quick. “We already discussed this. I do not put them in the wrong way. And as far as you ‘rescuing me,’ you didn’t have to come. I could’ve just sat in the bathroom stall all night until they closed and then made a run for it and hoped that the guy wasn’t waiting for me outside. And, yeah, I guess I did invade your space today. What else do you want me to do besides say I’m sorry, Jace? Get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness?”

God. The mental picture is so clear. Desi on her knees, looking up at me through those long lashes. I’m rattled just thinking about it.

“Don’t tempt me, Desideria,” I say, clenching my jaw closed too late. I’m losing all common sense talking to her while she’s naked.

Her eyes widen and her plump lips part. “What was that?”

I should man up, take responsibility for the reckless things coming out of my mouth, but I don’t. “You’re putting your mouth on the part that touches the cupboard shelf. Something could have crawled around on that shelf, or there could be dust sitting on it. It’s the wrong way.”

She cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “That is absolutely not what you said, but that’s bullshit anyway, because if the cup is facing up, then the dust is falling into the cup! So either way, the dust is getting in, genius!”

I slide my palm over the back of my neck and look at the ceiling. I can’t do this with her. Not when those bubbles are evaporating and threatening to give me a glimpse of her breasts. It takes several deep breaths to get my heart rate back to normal and calmly say, “Finish your bath and wipe down my tub when you’re done. Don’t come into my room again without asking first.”

I grab two clean towels from the drawer by the door, tossing one onto the bathmat for her. Without another word, I slam the bathroom door behind me and stalk to the guest bathroom that Cannon uses.

The hot water relaxes me, relieving the tension in the back of my neck. I hate when my plans are derailed. My expectation was to take a shower and get that project off to Matt. Finding Desi in my bathroom did more than divert me; she sent my thoughts right back to the places I didn’t want them to be. She’s taking up space in my head that I purposely designated for other things . . . safer things.

I flip the water to cold, hoping it will freeze the thoughts, and my hard-on, away.

Desi doesn’t cross boundaries; she decimates them like a wrecking ball. She’s unadulterated chaos, wreaking havoc on my sanity. She’s also the vibrant morning sky, bringing shades of electric green, fiery red, and passionate purple to my monochrome life. All her innocent discretions, as irritating as they are, make me feel alive.

By the time I dry off and wrap a towel around my waist, I know I was in the wrong with the way I reacted. The new plan is to send the project to Matt, make Desi an amazing lunch, and apologize for overreacting.

“Jace!”

Desi’s scream sends me into a panic. I leave my dirty clothes on the floor and race down the stairs, holding the towel at my waist so it doesn’t fall. She stands next to the kitchen counter, a pile of jeans resting on top and a pair in her hands. My heart continues to run when my feet have stopped. I look her over, searching for blood or a broken bone. She’s wearing a midthigh length nightshirt with a sloth hanging from a tree on it. Bare legs, bare arms, and nothing out of sorts. But based on the way she screamed my name, there must be.

“What’s wrong?” I ask through labored breaths.

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