You Own My Heart (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 4)

He looked at her, and she saw what he’d been hiding all night. Naked, hot, sensual desire. Their eyes held, and she felt like an electric shot punched through her, firing up every single cell in her body.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t wink or make any kind of gesture. He grabbed a couple beers from the fridge and headed for the deck. “Nice night for a hot tub.”

That was it. All he said. The door banged shut behind him, and the cold air that swept in felt wonderful on her heated skin. Honey should have left. She should have run for her car and hightailed it back to Crystal Lake and the safety of her apartment. That would have been the smart thing to do.

But she didn’t.

Her breathing escalated, and she dropped her purse and coat onto the sofa. The lights inside were muted, but she could see her reflection in the window. There were lights around the hot tub, which was located directly outside on the deck. She saw the dark shape of him settle in the water and knew he was watching her.

She should have left.

Instead, she reached for the edge of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head.

12

Nash watched Honey through the window. What the hell was he doing? He should have said nothing, locked up behind her, and worked off his restlessness the way any other guy would. That would have been smart. Instead, he’d baited her. And now she was heading his way wearing nothing more than a sexy black bra and the skimpiest excuse for panties he’d ever seen. He adjusted himself and stifled a groan when she walked outside.

Honey moved like a cat, her lithe limbs fluid and sure. She slid into the hot tub and settled onto one of the seats opposite him. Thank God. He needed some space. The raging hard-on between his legs was a dead giveaway to the way she affected him. No way could she know the power she had. He needed to keep this dynamic neutral.

Steam rose into the air, and overhead, the clear sky twinkled with a million stars. Snow blanketed most of his deck, reflecting light like diamonds. It was a beautiful night to be out here, and it should have been a relaxing one too. But Nash was as far from relaxed as he was from the damn moon.

He studied Honey covertly. She leaned back and rested her head on the edge of the hot tub, exposing the delicate curve of her neck and throat. Her eyes were closed, but the tightness around her mouth told him that, like Nash, she was pretending. Made him wonder why she’d stayed. But more importantly, it made him wonder where the hell this was going.

“Your tattoos,” he said.

She slid down in the water as her eyes flew open. “What was that?” God, the sound of her voice did things to him.

“Your tats.” Nash sat a little straighter. “What do they mean? The ones on your spine.”

She looked away, her eyes settled over the lake, and she shrugged. “They don’t mean anything really.”

“Bull.”

She jerked her head back at his quick reply.

“No one gets ink without it meaning something unless they’re an idiot.” He paused. “Pretty sure you don’t fall into that category.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I think.”

“You gonna share?” He was curious. He had a few as well, but contrary to what he’d just told Honey, one of them had been a drunken mistake that had no meaning other than too much tequila and the wrong crowd. Why else would a guy have the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on his back? “Which was your first?”

She sank lower in the water—maybe she was trying to hide. He thought she wasn’t going to take the bait, but then she surprised him.

“I got my first tattoo when I was twelve.”

Okay. That surprised the hell out of him, and he made no effort to hide it. If he’d come home at twelve with ink on his skin, he was pretty sure his mother would have removed it with a scouring pad.

“It’s behind my right ear. A small pink-and-purple unicorn.”

“The reason?”

She kicked at the water and shrugged. “Someone told me fairy tales weren’t real. That I was wasting my time dreaming of something better. I got the unicorn because I believed. Because I wanted a piece of magic on my skin. I wanted something to remind me of the possibility of better things even if better things never came my way. That tattoo was like a secret, and knowing it was there made me feel like I could get through anything.”

She spoke quietly, her eyes drifting, as if she were remembering things. From the look on her face, they weren’t exactly happy things.

“Who told you that?” Nash found himself asking, wondering who in hell would crush the dreams of a young girl of twelve.

Slowly, she turned her head his way. “My mom.”