Page 36 of Rush

Then, I remember that Ares crashed on the sofa last night, and I relax.

I reach over to my phone and check the time. Half past six.

A smile tugs at my lips. I slept right through the night.

I haven’t done that since before I was sober.

I guess having Ares in my apartment helped.

I clamber out of bed to go see him. I open my bedroom door and step into my little hall, and Ares is there.

Inside my hallway closet, which is filled with my paintings.

And he’s looking at them.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder at me.

And he doesn’t look guilty at being caught.

Asshat.

His clothes are wrinkled from sleep. His hair is all mussed up. His eyes are bright. And I would be thinking about how handsome he looks right now if I hadn’t just caught him snooping through my paintings.

“I thought it was just a hobby?” he says.

“I thought it was none of your business,” I throw back at him.

He laughs a deep, rumbling sound that affects me in a way I don’t want to examine right now.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop through people’s things?” I place my hand on my hip, and my oversize bed tee slips off my shoulder.

He turns, holding one of my paintings in his hand, and I see his eyes go to the bare skin there. Scorching hot, they trail over my chest, and then they move up to my face.

A burst of heat explodes inside me, like he’s just lit me.

“Technically, it wasn’t snooping. It was an accidental discovery,” he says.

His jaw is tight, but I’m getting the impression he’s not angry. Well, he might not be, but I am.

“Oh, well, that’s all right then.” I fold my arms over my chest. And then I remember I’m not wearing a bra.

Christ on a cracker.

I close my eyes on a groan.

He chuckles a dark sound. “Don’t worry, Jailbird; it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

My eyes flash open, accusing.

“Locker room. Your bra didn’t exactly cover all the goods.”

He slowly runs his eyes down to my chest and then back up, and I can see the memory of that moment in his eyes.

He looked at me like he wanted me back then. Before he knew who I was.

The crazy thing is…he’s looking at me in the exact same way right now.

And I’m dying. From a blazing inferno of embarrassment and something that has my thighs clenching and my nipples pebbling.