I don’t love the way he bosses me, but I have to agree with him about not letting my car get so bad it breaks down and leaves me stranded alone somewhere. I also a
ppreciate him fixing the car, so I don’t argue back. It takes a lot to bite my tongue, because I’m a born fighter, but I force myself to.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. I told you I’d fix it if I could.”
“Yeah, but what about the cost of the parts?” God, please don’t let him say hundreds. I’m not sure where I’ll find hundreds.
“Nothing, Zara. I know a guy. He gave them to me in exchange for shit.”
“So it cost you something. I want to pay you for that.”
“Fuck,” he mutters and glances at the cakes on the counter. “How about you let me use your shower and cut me some cake, and we’ll call it even.”
“Fine,” I say, even though I would prefer to pay him. “I’ll get you a towel and you’ll drop your dirty clothes outside the bathroom because if you’re not going to let me pay you for the parts, you’re bloody well going to let me wash your clothes.”
He shakes his head. Not in a pissed off way, but rather, in a half-amused-half-frustrated way. “You always this fucking argumentative?”
“You better believe it. You don’t think I lived with Mum all my life and King for four years without picking up some skills in this department, do you?”
His hands go to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head. Throwing it to me, he says, “Where’s your bathroom?”
I barely hear him because I’m too busy taking in those muscles of his. The ones I thought I’d appreciated the hell out of while he was fully clothed. Turns out, I wasn’t even close to fully appreciating them.
Aware of him staring at me waiting for an answer, I drag my eyes up to his. The heat I see there hits me deep in my core and I’m overcome with the feeling that anything I thought I knew about guys and sex is nothing compared to what Fury could teach me. That’s because I’ve never been looked at by a man the way he’s looking at me. And after months of not even wanting to look at a guy, Fury has brought my attention back in a big way. It feels good.
“Umm, I’ll show you.” My words come out sounding like a squeak. An embarrassing high-pitched sound that has me rushing to show him the bathroom so I can escape this awkwardness. In my haste, I trip over a box Holly left in the hallway.
As I stumble, his strong arm slides around my waist and stops my fall. My body ends up pressed against his, my back to him. I can’t deny how good it feels to be this close to him. When he says, “Careful,” his warm breath against my ear tips me dangerously close to the edge of turning and kissing him.
Don’t do it.
It’s not fair to him.
God knows what King will do to him.
“Thanks.” I steady myself and slip out of his hold, ignoring the lust blazing through my veins, and carrying on to the bathroom.
When we reach our destination, I quickly grab a towel from the linen cupboard in the hallway and pass it to him. “Just leave your clothes in the hallway and I’ll wash them.”
My eyes dart everywhere but at his body. I should be awarded a freaking medal for this. Instead, I’m rewarded with Fury’s gravelly voice when he says, “Thanks.”
I will not jump him.
I will not force my tongue down his throat.
I will not rip the rest of his clothes off.
Nodding, I leave him alone and walk as fast as I can to the kitchen.
I need a whole lot of cake or ice cream.
Or tequila.
Why did I think it a good idea to wash his clothes? I did not think that through well, because it’s going to take a lot longer to wash and dry them than it is for him to take a shower. That’s going to leave him sitting around in a freaking towel waiting for them.
Worst. Idea. Ever.