Stealing Her (Covet 1)

This kiss was raw.

Powerful.

This was the sort of kiss that made a person forget their own name and pray never to remember it again.

His lips felt swollen as they slid against mine, his hands gripped the sides of my face like he was holding something precious. The weight of his body was delicious and hot.

Julian rocked his hips slowly against me like he was asking permission when I was already mentally stripping myself bare for him.

His tongue pressed and twisted as he switched angles, deepening the kiss, making me whimper when he pulled away, chest heaving, to stare at me.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed in each other’s arms like that, breathless, wanting more.

Finally, I broke the silence by saying, “You’ve never kissed me like that before.”

Something flared in his eyes as he whispered, “Good.”

He looked away like he was ashamed. I wanted to ask why, but then he shifted his gaze back to me and kissed my forehead. “Sleep.”

I would have to be blind not to see the evidence of his arousal or the way every muscle in his body was strung tight, ready for attack.

He was holding back.

And for once, I didn’t want him to.

I wanted all of him.

But a part of me was scared that the minute I opened myself up to whatever this new version of him was—I would be crushed.

And as I gave him a watery smile and tucked myself against his chest and closed my eyes, I remembered his warning.

He would break my heart.

A part of me wondered if he already had.

Chapter Seventeen

BRIDGE

I slept like complete shit.

Felt like a monster.

Woke up and went to the home gym and started lifting like a madman. Julian had a nice setup, though I needed heavier dumbbells and weights, but this would have to do for now.

Three hours after kissing her, I got up and started pumping iron. It was the only way I could keep myself from taking her, from doing the worst sort of thing a man in my position could do.

Take advantage of someone who thought I was someone else, a man she used to love, when I was a complete stranger.

The more I thought about it, the sicker I became.

Is that what being a Tennyson did to someone? Did it make you justify everything to get what you want?

Last night I justified the kiss because I told myself that’s what he would have done, and then I mentally berated myself because I was being a complete dick and I had nobody to call me out on it.

I couldn’t seduce her when she thought I was him.

I couldn’t fall for her while he reaped the credit for my good behavior when he was a complete jackass who happened to be in a coma.

I couldn’t do any of those things.

I dropped my dumbbell on the ground, wiped the sweat from my brow with my towel, and looked up.

There she was, an angel of torture in spandex and a tank top. Her arms were crossed, making her breasts look like they needed to be released because they were bound too tight, and since I was the only person available . . .

I needed to get the fuck out of that apartment.

She tossed me a clean towel and winked. “Thought we could work out together.”

My jaw dropped when she bent over to tie her shoe, giving me a wonderful view of her ass. “You want to work out . . . with me?”

Come on, dumbass, you’re a personal trainer!

“Why not?” She grinned. “You said you’ve been lifting more and . . .” Her face fell at my expression. “Actually, it’s okay, I can just go get on the elliptical—”

“If you value your life, you will not finish that sentence,” I grumbled. “The elliptical isn’t even a real machine. A workout usually produces sweat, you shouldn’t be able to have a full conversation with your best friend while reading Cosmo and call it working out.”

Her eyebrows shot up with amusement. “Oh? And Mr. I-go-for-runs-and-use-my-Bluetooth-the-whole-time comes from a place of knowledge on this?”

No wonder she was shocked at my body. My brother was an idiot for not noticing her more, for not giving her everything in the fucking world. For not seeing that she just wanted to be loved.

“Like I said, things change.” I gave her a half smile and pointed to the weight rack. “Pick up some tens, I’m gonna put you through an intense arm circuit, then we’re going to do a Tabata.”

“Tabata?” she repeated. “Is that some sort of dance?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I laughed. “You’ll wish.”

To her credit, she didn’t complain once, she never gave me any of the nasty looks I was used to when I put someone through a high-intensity training workout. She just did what she was asked.

Watching her do squats and spotting her was pure torture. We’d quickly moved from upper body to lower body, and now I was watching her ass go slowly down and up, down and up. Perfect form, perfect thighs.