Skin (11 page)

She waited until he lifted again and took a serious look. His quads looked like rippled granite, his arms almost the same. Without a shirt on as he’d taken that off some time ago, his six-pack popped out like crazy.

“It’s so hard to say. All of you.” She walked around behind him, loving the way his neck muscles worked and the shine that highlighted the hills and valleys of his body.

“Do you do these exercises all the time?”

“No. I have to work with what’s here. Normally, I have someone who spots for me. So I’m doing only basic lifts here.”

She nodded, preferring he didn’t do anything that was dangerous. She might be able to lift the empty bar, but with all those discs on the end…she wouldn’t be able to even roll it off him.

With his next set of lifts, the sweat started to pour. She watched as one bead rippled down his neck. Then another rolled off his spine.

Her camera went crazy.

And she knew she had to do something else.

She reached out and touched one on the side of his face.

*

A second tiny
drop of sweat rolled off his forehead to bounce onto his shoulder. Tania stood transfixed. Why?

“What’s wrong?” Kane asked. He grabbed his towel and wiped the rest of the sweat off his forehead. He’d been working up a hell of a sweat this time. It seemed worse today. After last night. After seeing the pictures, he couldn’t really explain it. It had been such an intimate look into him – his life, his body. It didn’t bother him like a pervert watching him might have done. Knowing Tania was getting turned on was a hell of a turn on for him, too.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice husky.

He snorted. “Well, something obviously is. Spill.”

Mutely, she shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Sorry.”

With a disgusted sound, he grabbed the bar again. He needed to do an extra rep, and that pissed him off. But better another rep than forcing the issue between them. There were too many damn issues between them.

And none of them solvable.

He’d been working up a sweat for a bit now. It felt good setting his rhythm, working his body, pushing it to do what it was meant to do.

Then she did something that caught the breath in the back of his throat.

She reached out and scooped up a drop of sweat onto her finger.

His groin tightened.

And damn if she didn’t lick her finger.

He slowly lifted his gaze from her finger to her eyes. Their gazes caught and held.

Talk about a come on. But in her eyes, there was only curiosity and shock, and as he stared, he could see…desire.

T
ania couldn’t believe
she’d just done that. And in front of him, no less. She might have gotten away with it if his back was turned to her or he was so busy as to not have noticed, but not this way. She swallowed hard.

God, she wanted him. There was no way to hide it now. He knew. He had to know. How could he not?

Fatalistically, she waited for him to speak.

“My room or yours?” he said, his voice deep, thick.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Can’t handle a direct approach?” he mocked, anger biting his tone.

Tears clogged her throat. Damn it. “You’re probably right,” she said in shame. She closed her eyes and shook her head. After a long, shaky breath, she said, “Sorry,” her voice faint, barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”

She spun and ran to the exit. Outside the gym room, she ran up the stairs to the relative safety of her own hotel room. But there was no escaping the heat in her loins or the sweaty palms, and even worse, the images in her mind. She wanted what she couldn’t have, needed what her body could never get, and it was making her crazy.

Shame coursed through her. Not for feeling desire, not for wanting a man, but for giving him the impression that he could have what he had good reason to expect at this point. She hadn’t been leading him on, but it might seem like it to him. He was a sexually active, healthy male. She was a damaged, broken female.

The two did not fit together. Regardless of the images in her mind telling her she was a liar, she knew it was true. He needed something healthy and whole. She needed…to let go of a dream.

Then someone knocked on her door.

*

Kane slammed his
fist into the wall.

Goddamn it. He felt like he’d just pulled off Tinkerbelle’s wings.

And he hadn’t meant to. She got to him. He wanted to be man enough for her to play with and not give a damn, but he wasn’t sure he could.

He wanted her like he hadn’t wanted a woman in a very long time.

And she might want him, and she might think she was ready for this, but she wasn’t, as he’d just proven.

Goddamn it.

Kane didn’t know what he was going to say to her. He’d barely had a chance to figure out what the hell was going on here. She wanted him and he wanted her. Didn’t that make for an easy solution? Apparently not. Women always complicated the simplest things.

The door opened in front of him, which surprised him. He’d figured she’d ignore him. Make their next meeting uncomfortable, where she’d retreat into herself and keep their relationship on a more formal level. Instead, she gave him a small smile, but the look of dread in her eyes made him realize she’d been churning up inside about this.

“Can I come in?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Sighing, he pushed the door open slightly and stepped inside, almost forcing her to back up or be touched. Because that was really the problem here, wasn’t it? He’d been slow to get it. Everything they’d done had been without physical contact. She’d gone out of her way not to touch him while they were seated or standing; she walked around him to get to the same place in an effort to not accidentally touch him. He’d only recognized it down in the fitness room, because after days of doing this, he finally understood that she’d only touched him – or anyone – once.

When she’d reached for that drop of sweat.

And it had hit him. He figured he understood the problem. He hoped she’d tell him the truth, but he didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable. She had a look of doom on her face now as she led the way back into a close copy of his own hotel room. He avoided staring at the large bed in front of them. His body was too wired. It would be happy to head straight into sexual playtime, and as he’d had a hell of a time reining that back, seeing the wide expanse of a bed like this wasn’t helping.

She turned to face him.

“What did you want to say to me?”

Her tone was polite and cold as if she was waiting for a blow, her shoulders hunched and her hands stuffed into her jeans pocket. As if she could get through this. She could get through anything if she had to.

He sighed, his determination to get to the bottom of this draining down to his toes. Who could stay mad at Tinkerbelle? Someone had to be an asshole to want to kick the woman when she was already down. He just didn’t want her down for the wrong reason. Knowing he was likely to say the wrong thing but feeling the need to say something, he started with, “Look, I get that there is some trauma in your past. It’s probably why you’re here, since we’re all here for something.” He stopped. Her face had gone blank. Talk about giving an answer without saying anything.

He wanted to reach out and hold her. Give her a hug. Enclose her in his arms and tell her it would all be okay.

But she’d already learned that a touch wasn’t always nice. That hugs were often a constraint and that life wasn’t going to be okay. It would never be okay again.

“I get that you’ve been hurt, likely physically and emotionally, but I’ve never hurt anyone…especially a woman.” Her gaze flew up to his, shock the dominant expression.

He started again. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but the mixed signals were getting very confusing. But I want you to know that I got it. I’m slow and obviously thick, but I do understand. I’m not here to push you into doing something you don’t want to do or aren’t comfortable doing…”

She shook her head. “Maybe you aren’t, but…”

She stopped.

He waited.

She dropped her head and stared at the floor.

“Okay, well. Look, I’m a big boy. I can handle a little sexual tension, a session of raw sexuality that isn’t going where I’d like it to go.” Her eyes flipped up to stare at him, then dropped to the floor again.

“I’m not going to jump your bones because you gave me a come-on. I’m not a callow youth who doesn’t know his own limits, and I’d never do something you don’t want me to do.” When she continued to stare at the floor, he turned and walked back to the door before he stopped and turned back to face her. “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t hold anything against you. If you feel brave enough to take the next step in this…” he waved a hand. “Whatever this is…I might be interested.”

At her continued silence, he added, “Only, you’re going to have to make it clear, because I can’t take your actions like I would another woman’s. So if you are, then just be honest and say so.”

And he turned back to the door.

When he heard the single word, he stopped, puzzled. He turned back to face her. “What did you say?”

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes from the carpet to stare directly at him. In a tone of voice that said taking her medicine was good for her even if she didn’t want it, she only wanted the benefits of it, she repeated what she’d said. “So.”

His mind worked, trying to interpret her answer. Again, women seemed to make everything too complicated. “So, what?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m saying so.”

And then he got it. His eyes closed. “Meaning you are interested in taking this another step and are saying so?”

“Yes.”

So maybe this was simple after all.

“How far do you want to go?” He didn’t know what he was up against, but this was unlike any conversation he’d ever had with a woman. There was no romance, no soft words, and no seduction. There was heat and raw, dry passion that crackled between them, something he hadn’t ever felt. Not like this. It almost hurt, and the need was so strong it clawed at him. If it was the same for her, they’d burn up the sheets if they ever got there.

And again, she surprised him with her honesty. “I want it all,” she said, “but I don’t know what I can take.”

“Take?”

“I was raped a long time ago,” she said candidly, staring up at him. “I haven’t been held by a man since. I couldn’t. Not even my father.” She bowed her head. He could just imagine the pain for both her and her father. It was a big admission.

A man? Interesting turn. The rape only confirmed what he’d already suspected. He was damn sorry for it, but he couldn’t do anything about it at this point. “What about a brother?” She shook her head. “A good friend?”

“No. I have no males in my life, just two sisters and mother. My father and I talk on the phone, but he doesn’t live close now.”

He had to wonder at a life completely devoid of touch from the opposite sex. He had close relationships with his sister, brother, and both his parents. They hugged, touched, held hands; there were few physical boundaries between them because their relationships were founded on trust and respect.