Page 41 of Beauty and Kaos

“If you’re going to spend all night in my bedroom, you should let me join you,” he comments, and I roll my eyes, grabbing for my pile of wet clothes. “How was your shower?”

“Amazing.”

He smiles. “That’s the kind of reviews I like to hear.”

He straightens and crosses the room, handing me another glass of scotch. His gaze dips as he examines my attire, lingering on my breasts.

“My clothes look way better on you,” he says. Then he steps back. “I threw together a quick snack tray, if you’re hungry.”

I’m starving. But I shake my head, toss back the warm amber liquid in the glass he gave me, and hand it back.

“I wish I could stay, but I have a test tomorrow. Apparently. And it’s getting late.”

“What if I promise to grade on a curve?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t come for curves. Just a drink.” I smile. “I appreciate the hospitality, though. This has been fun.”

He nods. “Anytime.” He walks back into the kitchen, grabs a plastic bag for my wet clothes, and hands it to me. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the motel.”

As we climb back into the elevator and begin our descent, he glances over at me. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe with less mud.”

“I make no promises.”

He laughs.

Once we’re back inside the Tahoe, an uncomfortable silence overtakes us, but I don’t care to break it. The air is heavy with unfulfilled expectations. I have a million thoughts racing through my head, and after minutes that drag on like hours, we finally pull into the lot for the Sandbar.

“I have to run inside or a few minutes,” he says, stepping out of the truck. I climb out and meet him near the hood as we split ways. “See you tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait,” I reply. He steps closer to me, and I bite my lip. I see it in his eyes before he goes for it. The end of the night kiss. Shit.

I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him, pressing my bra-less breasts against his chest and hoping it’s enough. Then step back.

“Good night,” I offer as I turn toward the catwalk that leads to the motel. I don’t look back, and I don’t give him the invitation for more.

Behind me, I hear him shuffle into the restaurant, and a light appears in the office window. I take a deep breath. I made it. I entered the lion’s den and returned unscathed. I wander down the catwalk, my bare feet silent on the wooden planks.

“Have fun tonight?”

I instantly still, my gaze falling on Zaden. Perched on the railing facing the sea, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the night air, he turns his head in my direction. His eyes rake down my body, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he realizes I’m in men’s clothes.

Evan’s clothes.

Fuck. Okay, not unscathed.

“For the most part,” I answer, holding my ground. He may be mad, but screw him. He has no right to be. He doesn’t own me.

He leaps down from the railing, blocking my path, his body inches from mine. His boots are muddy, his clothes nearly dry but with just enough moisture to hold them taunt against his skin. His beautiful, muscled, tattooed skin. My hand tightens on the plastic bag of clothes at my side, fighting the vulnerability he makes me feel. The guilt.

“I guess you got that hot shower,” he muses, his eyes searching my face, then falling to linger on my top. I cross my arms across my breasts, glaring at him.

“Why do you care?”

He takes a pull from his smoke, then stubs it out on the railing. “I don’t.”

“Good,” I reply, rolling my eyes. I move to walk past him, and he blocks me. I move to the other side, and he blocks it too. I take a step back.

“If you have something to say, just fucking say it,” I dare him.

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