Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

I should be freaked out. I don’t know Zane so well, and although he’s super sexy and I want him, I didn’t expect anything like this to happen so soon. Not before talking and finding out more about him.

Heck, I only came over to check he was all right after what happened at the park. The way he’d struggled in the water, thrashing and hitting right and left… After he’d left with Asher, Erin told me Zane never liked water. Yeah, okay. But it wasn’t just that he didn’t like it. What happened looked like a flashback, and it was scary as hell.

I look at him as he stares at nothing, still toying with the packet. He hasn’t pulled out a cigarette yet. His wet T-shirt sticks to his chest and shoulders, outlining every taut muscle, every ridge and plane. I see the black of tattoos through the wet fabric, curling on his chest and upper arms. His dark brows are drawn together, his gaze

distant. What’s on his mind?

Bad idea or not, everything about him draws me close, including his demons. Including his tattoos, his piercings and his Mohawk, his Inked Brotherhood and absent family. Including the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table, and the fact that he’s still dressed in his wet clothes.

What happened in the park is a crack in his armor, a widening fissure that lets me glimpse inside him. I’m sure what I’ll find won’t be pretty, but it’s what makes Zane who he is, and I want to know him.

He burns so brightly.

“So,” I say, sitting there, pretending nothing has happened—that he didn’t draw on me, give me a hickey and get me off with his hands a mere two minutes ago—and cross my legs. “I’m still looking for a roommate, and so are you. Won’t you at least interview me? I like your apartment.”

His gaze slides to me, blank. “Interview?”

“Yeah, you know, check if we are compatible as roomies. If I’m quiet, and don’t stay out late and don’t smoke in my room and all that.”

“You don’t smoke, you don’t stay out late, and I don’t care if you’re quiet.”

I blink. Okay… “Then ask me if I have enough money for the rent, if I cook, if I commit to pay half the expenses—”

“No.” He rubs a hand over his chest. “You can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He looks at me, his hot gaze gliding over my skin. “You just can’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Why am I pushing him? He’s right. It’s not a good idea. What I need is a nice roomie, a girl I can have pajama parties with and boy talk. Besides… after touching me, things have shifted between us, and I’m not sure it’s for the better. He seems more distant now than ever.

It makes my chest tight.

This was a mistake. I get up and smooth my dress over my legs. “Fine. I’ll be going, then.” I glance at the plates and glasses on the low table. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

His body vibrates with tension, and his jaw is clenched tight. “Not hungry.”

That stops me. A boy who isn’t hungry is a boy who isn’t well. I don’t have a brother, but I do have plenty of male cousins and friends, and I know this for a fact.

“Are you sick?” I regret the words as soon as I speak them. Prying again. “Forget it. I’ll just—”

“Stay.”

I gape at him. “What?”

“I mean... Fuck.” He runs a hand over one of the shaved sides of his head, his eyes locked on the far wall. He swallows. “You haven’t eaten, either. Stay a while longer.”

I realize my mouth is still open, and I snap it shut. I really should go.

But a shadow in his eyes holds me still.

Pain.

I can’t just leave when he’s in pain. He did ask me to stay. And as always when it comes to Zane Madden, I throw all caution to the wind, and do crazy stuff.

Like staying when I should run.