He frowned at his custom-made shelves. “Those are models.”
“You sure?”
His gaze narrowed. His siblings liked to rib him about his collection too. “They’re all die-cast collectibles. Very valuable.”
She made an unconvinced sound. “Do you play with them?”
“No.” He saw her lips twitch and decided if teasing him made her feel better, he was okay with it. “I’ll get my first aid kit.”
She spun, blue eyes on fire. “I cannot believe this!”
Here came the explosion.
Haven tossed her arms wide, pacing across the living area. “I just can’t think of what I did to deserve this shitty karma. Some no-neck hulk tries to abduct me. Thieves shot my guards, nice guys with families, and stole a really, really expensive painting. A masterpiece. And a total asshole beat me up.” Her voice rose.
“Haven, baby, calm down.”
She spun again. “All of this on top of a real asshole ex who was mixed up in God knows what, and who also hit me. Do I have a sign saying ‘punch me here’ hanging around my neck?”
All of Rhys’ humor fled. He pushed away from his kitchen island. “Your ex hit you?”
His lethal tone of voice got through to her. She lowered her arms. “That’s in the past.”
He strode straight to her. “What’s his name? Who is he?”
“Rhys—”
He wrapped his arms around her. “No man should ever lay a hand on a woman. Ever.”
She swallowed. “I know.” She spread her palms over his chest. “I left him the first time he did it. Things hadn’t been good for a while.” She patted Rhys. “It’s over.”
He realized with her calm tone of voice that she was trying to pacify him. “He back in Miami?”
She nodded.
Watching her, most of Rhys’ fury drained. Damn, she was beautiful.
Then he realized she was shaking. Probably delayed reaction to the asshole who tried to grab her. Rhys pulled her closer. She pressed her face against him, and he rested his cheek on her hair.
“Why am I shaking? I’m mad.”
“You’re upset. Have your freak-out.”
She didn’t cry, but she held on, and damned if he didn’t like it. When her shaking stopped, he led her to a stool and grabbed his first aid kit out of the cupboard.
“Your kit is way more used than mine,” she said. “In mine, everything is still in the original packaging.”
Yeah, well, he got banged up on occasion, and he did anything he could to avoid hospitals. He took her scraped hand and gently cleaned her wounds. When he used the antiseptic wipe, she hissed, but didn’t jerk away. Next, he put some antiseptic cream on, then did the same to her other hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Not going to let anyone hurt you again.” He tucked a strand of her brown hair back. He loved the light brown shade of it, with almost silver undertones.
“I think I’m ready for part two of my freak-out,” she said.
He raised a brow.
“The getting angry part.” She slid off the stool and strode across his living area.
Rhys’ gaze dropped to her ass. That curvy, sexy ass.
“I left Miami for a fresh start.” She made an angry sound. “Shit clearly follows me around.”
Yes, her anger was back. She grabbed one of her shoes and threw it at his couch. It hit and bounced off one of the cushions. Then she tossed her other one.
“I’m done being a punching bag.” She spun. “Hear that, universe?”
Rhys advanced. He had to touch her.
She spun and bumped into him. “Oh.”
“Rant over?”
“Maybe.” She sniffed. “I could probably dredge up a bit more.”
“You’re done for now.” He yanked her up on her toes and did what he’d wanted to do from the first day he’d met her. He kissed Haven McKinney.
Oh. God.
Rhys Norcross was kissing her.
This was a disaster, but it was also toe-curlingly incredible.
Even as her brain screamed at her to pull away, to run to Europe and join a convent, her hands dug into his hard chest and she parted her lips.
He took immediate advantage, his tongue sliding against hers. Desire filled every cell in her body in a wild, invigorating rush.
He deepened the kiss, and any remaining thoughts of escaping him flew out of her head. Haven moaned, and sank her hands into his thick, shaggy hair. She kissed him back.
“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips.
The next kiss was wild. They were both groping each other, pressing their bodies together. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, and set her on the lovely wooden table in the dining area. Then he worked her skirt up enough to stand between her legs.
Alarm bells were ringing. Rhys was a danger with a very big D, underlined twice.
“Rhys,” she panted.
Then his mouth was on hers again. Damn, he tasted so good, felt so good. Somehow, she got the two top buttons of his shirt undone, sliding her hands inside.
Oh, warm skin. She saw the ink on the left side of his chest. So sexy. A hard, muscled man with ink in a suit. Totally sex on a stick. She felt a flood of dampness between her legs.
His hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back. His mouth skated down her jaw to her neck.
Oh, God. She had a sensitive neck. She shuddered under the sensations.
A big, strong hand slid up her thigh, heading to where her body begged for him to touch her. Then her brain reengaged.
“No.”
Rhys paused and lifted his head. The look on his face made her swallow a moan. Desire was carved hard on those handsome features.
Rhys Norcross wanted her.
Since she’d said no, he hadn’t moved. His fingers were still on her leg, but they weren’t moving higher. Damn, she knew that he was a good guy and he wouldn’t take advantage.
She licked her lips. “We can’t do this.”
“I’m pretty sure we can,” he growled. “And it’ll be fucking amazing.”
Haven pressed a hand to her flushed cheek. Yes, he wanted her. She knew he’d wanted plenty of other women, as well—who were more beautiful and experienced than her.
She also knew that he didn’t keep them very long.
Haven wasn’t a one-night woman. More power to women who were, but it wasn’t her, and there was more to her refusal than just that.
It was the fact that Gia was her best friend, and Easton was her boss. This could get messy quickly.
“You’re my best friend’s brother.”
Rhys raised a brow. “Gia’s been telling me to make a move on you for weeks.”
Haven’s eyes popped open wide. “That traitor! I am so not getting her those gallery opening tickets she wanted.” Haven drew herself up. “You’re my boss’ brother. That’s messy. I’ve already made the colossal mistake of getting involved with a family member of my last boss.”
“The dickhead ex?”
She nodded. “He was my boss’ cousin.”
His voice dropped. “I’m not your ex, Haven, and I don’t care how many stupid excuses you throw between us.”
The biggest one was the one she wouldn’t tell him. That deep down, something in her knew that Rhys Norcross had the power to hurt her far worse than Leo Becker ever had. Oh, Rhys would never hit her, but her heart… Nope. She couldn’t withstand whatever pain he would inflict.