Cade brushed by me and walked into the kitchenette, then stood with the refrigerator door open and took a few slugs out of an orange juice carton. My eyes flickered over one rounded muscular shoulder and down the curve of thick biceps, then got lost in the maze of ink swirling over his flesh.
His hair was damp with sweat, one droplet trickling down the side of his neck. I watched it slide down his throat and disappear into his T-shirt, all the while reminding myself that sweaty guys dashed with motor oil were not attractive.
Parts of me listened. Other parts of me did not.
Cade Wilson looked like no other law major I had ever seen. I liked boys and khakis. Oxford shirts did it for me. Well groomed, well spoken. Those were qualities I didn’t only admire, I required. But with Cade my response was off the grid. Carnal. Basal. Against my better judgment over the last few months, I had become inexplicably attracted to his shaggy, messy, never-styled hair. I liked the dangerous quality of the ink on his body. I liked the way he eyed me through that light brown stare of his, with a combination of spite and curiosity.
I understood because I’d been looking at him the same way for a long time.
We had a history. It wasn’t a good one.
“You’ve gained muscle,” I commented. It wasn’t a flirty comment, more a professional observation. Improving bodies was my passion. Noticing his went with the territory. His broken arm had hampered his weightlifting until it healed, but he had more than regained the muscle he’d lost.
He licked a droplet of juice off his lips and I tossed my backpack on the couch, unfazed by his tongue or his attitude.
Mostly, anyway.
“This is a great space,” I began. “Now that I’m here and you’re here, I think we could do actual work today instead of you ignoring me and me doing my homework.”
His bland gaze said what he didn’t: He didn’t like my suggestion.
Part of me fantasized that he’d give in and cooperate. That I’d have my own moment of personal triumph by helping him progress from a stoic, silent statue into a proper chatterbox.
His face scrunched.
Maybe not.
“The kind of therapy I’m proposing would be more like a workout.” I folded my arms and gave him a smile. “You like to work out, right?”
No response. Just the same bland stare.
“Only we’ll be working out your face instead of your arms. Think of it as bench presses for your lips. Curls for your tongue.”
One brown eyebrow arched in suspicion. Then the side of his mouth flinched. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but interest stirred in the depths of his eyes. I thought about what I’d just said and scowled.
“That wasn’t a sexual comment. So don’t take it that way.” What I didn’t need was Cade thinking I was flirting with him. I knew he was bad news—that any attraction we felt was due to proximity and the fact that he was a guy and I was a girl.
The hint of a smile vanished from his face. I wish I could say it satisfied me to see it go, but Cade had an amazing smile. He used to smile often. Before the accident, he’d been a grinning idiot most of the time. The problem with this godlike, grinning specimen was that he’d had a big mouth and a sharp tongue. He’d flayed me once with it, and I hadn’t forgotten.
“We may as well do something while I’m here,” I snapped.
He returned the juice carton and slammed the fridge.
“Cade.”
“What!” He spun on me.
Stunned, I blinked at him. He lifted that same eyebrow in challenge.
He spoke. One syllable—one very frustrated syllable—but still, Cade parted those lips and spoke.
He’d said a few words to me when I first started coming around, but lately he’d clammed up. Now, evidently, his patterns were back. Poke him and, like an angry bear, he growled. I couldn’t cheer him on or he’d shut down completely. That left only one option. Me taking charge.
“Couch,” I instructed, pointing at a brown leather love seat sitting in front of a TV on the floor. The wires were curled into a circle and I was momentarily surprised he hadn’t hooked it up yet. “We can do your exercises there.”
Caramel-colored eyes leveled me as he prowled my way in a few long-legged steps. Then he stalked past me…into the bathroom.
I heard the shower start and, with a sigh, I extracted my homework from my backpack and plopped down onto the couch where I’d told him to sit.