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“Don’t worry. I won’t let him touch you again.” As a fresh round of cheers rose outside, he sent another look of disgust toward the closed door. He picked up a green Henley and tugged it over his head. “I’ll throw him out myself. I’m looking forward to it.”
Her stomach tightened with unfamiliar swirling sensations as she glimpsed the thatch of his armpit hair, then watched his muscled chest with his brown nipples disappear as the shirt dropped to finish hiding the path of hair that bisected his flat, six-pack abs.
She had never understood the mesmerized giddiness that other girls—grown women like those outside—
exhibited around men. In this second, however, she had an inkling. Tendrils of admiration unfurled inside her, making her want to touch him. She actually licked her lips, confused by the intensity of the compulsion because it was so new. So strong.
“What’s your name?” The timbre of his voice changed. The simmering anger was gone, replaced by gruff curiosity and something else.
She lifted her gaze to find he had one thick brow quirked. His mouth held a curl of amusement.
Oh, no. He’d caught her ogling him. She hated when men did that to her. Now she was guilty of it.
“Um, Stella?” she replied in a voice that squeezed through her tight throat.
“Um, Atlas,” he mocked drily, and held out his hand.
Boiling in embarrassment, she took a nervous step forward.
The second his warm palm connected with hers and his fingers closed in a firm grip around her hand, she felt as though a jolt hit her heart, stalling it in her chest. A fresh flood of heat suffused her, this one vastly different from shyness. It had roots in the pit of her belly and moved outward through her limbs, leaving a sting in her nipples and between her thighs.
Which was mortifying. Nothing like that had ever happened to her. She only hoped he didn’t know, but the way his eyes narrowed made her fear that he did. Which caused her stomach to swirl and tighten and her body to swelter even more.
“How old are you?” He slowly released her hand. His gaze was traveling all over her face, leaving a sensation that felt as though he traced her features with his fingertips.
“N-nineteen. Next week.” She couldn’t fib with him, not when his dark gold irises were piercing into her soul.
“I’m twenty-six.” There was finality in his voice. Rejection? But he continued to study her face as though looking for answers to something. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his inscrutable expression. That she was too young? Tooobvious?
She got distracted by his eyes again. She’d never noticed a man’s eyelashes before. His were long and thick with a hint of curl. They would have seemed feminine along with his full, sensual lips, but his sharp cheekbones and rugged jawline balanced them out. She had never really noticed a man’s lips either, but she found herself wondering how his would feel pressed to hers.
A fresh tingle of awareness made her start to smile shyly even though she didn’t know why.
His expression altered. He looked away briefly, as though undecided. When his attention came back to her, his features were stiff with conflict, his brows low with dismay.
“Areyou all right?” he asked. “I can take you home after I get rid of them.”
“I’m fine. I was more upset about having nothing to change into. Thank you for this.” She plucked at the front of the hoodie. “I’ll bring it back in the morning.”
“Keep it. It suits you.” Satisfaction lit his gaze as he centered the seams on her shoulders.
“I couldn’t.” She smoothed a hand down the front, loving the fleecy feel of it against her skin, but the movement revealed that her nipples were stiffly poking against the fabric.
She shot a look upward to see his nostrils flare. He swallowed and pressed his mouth flat while dragging his attention back to her face. His hands slid from her shoulders to clasp her upper arms, not pulling her in, but not holding her off either.
Stella was the least sophisticated woman she knew, but she’d spent a year watching people her age hook up. She understood the small signals, even if she had never participated.
Until now.
She moved forward, feeling as though she stepped into a bubble with him, one that floated in sunshine while the rest of the world turned to rainbows.
“Thank you for…” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. The clothes? The rescue? This feeling of lightness and possibility?
She tilted up her face. She was too new to the mating dance to make more of a move, but it was enough for him to tighten his hands on her arms and draw her closer.
“Are you sure?” His thumbs moved restlessly, making the cotton shift against her arms.
She nodded, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking for, only that she wanted to know how it worked, this thing called sexual attraction. She wanted to know how to kiss.