I grin at her. “Eat your fries.”
Xander and West messaged me to say they were working late, so I know they aren’t home when I get back to the apartment, but the music coming from the den tells me Zeke’s here. I go to find him, hoping he’ll tell me what he wants for dinner. I hate choosing what to cook. Having to decide what to make is one of the worst parts of adulting.
I walk into the room to find him wearing only a pair of tight suit pants. His hair is damp like he recently took a shower, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his bare torso. He’s always kept his shirt on around me before. “Wow.” Realizing I just said that out loud, I slap my hand over my mouth while he closes the gap between us.
“Zeke, your tattoos are beautiful.” I instinctively reach out to trace the lines of ink adorning his chest and abs, but he grips my wrist before I can touch him, squeezing hard enough to make me wince.
“I don’t like being touched,” he says with a throaty growl.
“West and Fitch touch you.”
He sneers. “They’ve known me forever.”
“So, it’s a trust thing, then?” I ask, raking my eyes over the intricate works of art.
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” I’m surprised by the sudden knowledge that I would give anything to earn his trust.
“You getting a good look there?”
My eyes travel back to his, which are smoldering with anger and … something else I can’t identify. “I could stare at them all day. They’re incredible.”
“You think I don’t know what you’re really looking at, buttercup?”
Buttercup? He makes the term of endearment sound like an insult. But I have no idea what he’s talking about, and my frown deepens. “What?”
He steps forward, and now his chiseled body is only a few inches from mine. Heat radiates from his skin, warming me even through my tank top. A pulsing sensation builds between my thighs.
“You heard me.” His voice drops another octave, its steady cadence making goosebumps prickle along my forearms.
What the hell is this guy’s deal? “Why did you lie, Ezekiel?”
His scowl deepens. “What?”
“You lied to me. When I asked you if you wanted me here, you said yes.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “So?”
“It seems like you don’t want me here at all.” I shrug, trying to pull off an Academy Award-winning display of disinterest.
His head falls back, and he lets out a dark, arrogant laugh, then fixes those fiery eyes on me again. “And why do you say that, buttercup? Because I don’t want you looking at my scars?”
I roll my eyes. Asshole. “What scars?”
He lowers his mouth to my ear, and his hot breath ruffles my hair. “The ones all over my fucking chest.”
My eyes drop back down, and sure enough, the veneer of ink covers a cluster of thick, twisted scars. A lump of emotion clogs my throat, but I swallow it down. They must have been carved into his flesh long before he got the tattoos. How did he get them? Are they the reason he doesn’t like to be touched? I open my mouth to tell him that I didn’t even notice his scars. I mean we all have them, some are just on the inside. But before I can utter a word, he wraps a hand around my throat, cutting off my words and my air.
“You don’t want to fucking play with me, Lily, because I will eat you alive.” His grip relaxes just enough for me to speak.
Instead of reassuring him about his scars, I give him snark. “That would require some touching though, wouldn’t it?”
He grunts a response, a humorless smirk pulling the corner of his mouth upward as a wicked glint flickers in his dark eyes. “I will touch you whenever and wherever the fuck I want.”
Pretending his hand isn’t still locked around my throat, I place my hands on my hips. “Is that so?”
“That’s the deal you signed up for.”
“Is there anywhere I’m allowed to touch you?”
He lets go of me. “Forearms. Or below the waist is fine.”
I glance down, unconsciously running my tongue over my lip when I see the clear outline of his hard cock straining against his pants. He wants me, but he won’t admit it. I wish I knew why.
A menacing growl vibrates in his chest. “You want a taste, buttercup?”
Not taking my eyes from his impressive bulge, I nod.
He inhales deeply, his abs tightening and the thick muscles of his thighs growing taut. He has an incredible body, and I want to feel it for myself. I want him to let me in. I need him to let me in. “Then go ahead.” He grits out the words like they pain him.