She shook her head like I was a dimwitted kid who’d landed on his skull for the tenth time. “Don’t you get enough of that at the gym?”
“I’ve never had anyone perform a paternity test on me at the gym.”
“How about outside of it?”
I couldn’t help moving closer, so my hips swayed against hers and our bottles clinked. “Is that your way of asking how many women I’ve had in my bedroom?” I brushed my lips over her cheek and smiled at her ragged inhale. She couldn’t deny I affected her, as much as she wanted to. “Or bathroom?”
“Irrelevant information.”
I tugged down the zipper on the leather jacket, the sound surprisingly harsh in the stillness. Her breath picked up and her gaze shot to mine. She didn’t look frightened from my nearness yet, but judging from recent events, it was only a matter of time.
And that made me back up and take another slug of my drink. “Still want that bath?” I asked as mildly as possible considering the growing situation in my jeans.
What was it about her? I’d had more control at thirteen than I did in her presence.
She shrugged and finished her beer in uneven gulps. “Yeah.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “It’ll have to be quick though. I have to be at the gym at eight tomorrow.”
“And I have work.” I took her empty bottle and set it next to mine on the counter. “We’ll manage.”
I led the way down the hall to the bathroom. Mice seemed loud and disruptive in comparison to Mia, so I couldn’t tell if she was actually behind me and I wasn’t about to look. Once I reached the bathroom, I flipped on the light, then pulled my hoodie over my head and tossed it aside. My throw went wide and the sweatshirt nearly landed in the tub.
Nervous? Who, me? Never. I was suave and sophisticated—at least until I glimpsed Mia’s face in the glass. Any practiced moves I had fell away with one glance into her fathomless eyes. As her tongue slicked over her cracked lower lip, I had to brace my fist on the counter to keep from putting a restraining hand on my cock.
She was devouring me like she’d never seen a man’s torso before. And I was still wearing my T-shirt.
I swallowed and reached for the hem. “Can I?”
She shrugged. “Sure. You can’t bathe in your clothes.”
That was up for debate. I didn’t want her to be afraid. If that meant sitting in a tub with my jeans on, I’d do it.
What I’d do for this girl was already starting to scare the hell out of me.
I yanked off my shirt and let it fly before turning to her and resting my hands on the counter behind me, as casual could be. Her gaze drank me in, flitting from my shoulders to my pecs to my torso. Lingering on the trail of hair from my navel downward, hidden by the jeans I’d only unbuttoned in the kitchen.
“You don’t shave your chest?”
“No. I’m a fucking guy. Not some Ken doll impersonator.” I glanced down. “Not that I have much chest hair to speak of.”
“You have enough.” She stepped forward and pursed her lips, her gaze still firmly below my neck. “You have a lot of scars too.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“A little. You win so much.”
Smiling was harder than I expected as I drew my finger down her cheek. The softness of her skin always astounded me. Somehow I expected it to crackle like the barrier that guarded her heart. “A win’s only as good as the battle scars you earn during the fight, baby.”
“I’ve watched some of your matches, but I couldn’t ever make out your tats.” She traced her fingertips over the Japanese symbols that stretched across my abdomen. “What does it say?”
“Loosely translated, it means the samurai is the best man in the world, and the cherry blossom is the best flower.” When she stepped back suddenly, I felt the need to explain. “I went to Washington on a class trip in high school when all the cherry blossoms were in bloom. I had a thing for this chick, and I don’t know, I guess I was—” I broke off as she unzipped her jeans and shoved them over her hips. “Uh, okay. Suppose we’re done talking then.”
She pushed the denim down and stuck out her right hip. “Look.”
I looked. Hell, I couldn’t stop looking. The pale pink and brown tattoo on her thigh carved its way into my brain so deeply that I’d never forget it.
My fingers curled around the cool granite countertop that didn’t have anything on my erection. One glance at her smooth thigh and I probably could’ve broken out the window with the damn thing. “Fucking cherry blossoms.”
“They were my mom’s favorite,” she said, her tone too wistful to miss even for a guy with a crowbar for a dick.