Page 57

“What do you want?” He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxers. His scars and tattoos are on full display. I almost forget why I came in, but I’m on a mission, and all that hot, naked skin just waiting to be kissed will have to wait. That is, if he ever lets me touch him again.

“We need to talk,” I say.

“I’m too busy to talk.”

He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. The sound of the shower turning on pisses me off. I march to the door, fully expecting it to be locked, but it isn’t. I yank it open and step inside just as he’s getting into the shower. A glimpse of his perfect ass is enough to renew my faltering determination. I deserve this man, and he deserves me. I just need to make him admit it.

Scar shakes his head and mumbles something before closing the glass door behind him. It’s clear and hides nothing. Water sluices across his abs and channels down his Adonis belt. I want to lick up every last drop. I’m tempted to open the door and get in with him, but I don’t just want him for sex. I want more. I want to understand him. I need him to talk to me, or I’ll never figure out why he’s hot one minute and cold the next.

“I want to talk to you about what you said last night after I told you … what I told you.”

“Julia, I’m busy right now. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

He grabs a bar of bourbon-colored soap and begins to scrub his body with it. The scent of bergamot and citrus floats on a woody base. It’s the same subtle smell that drives me wild with longing.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on between us,” I say.

“Nothing’s going on.”

“I don’t believe you,” I counter.

“I already told you how I feel.”

“No, you didn’t. You only told me that your world is too dangerous and I’m too good for it. What does that even mean?”

“Look, I really don’t have time for this crap. I’ve got the entire sheriff’s department, the Demon Riders, and the FBI on my ass.” He shuts off the water and shoves the door open. I can’t breathe as I take in every inch—every inch—of his perfection.

“I know.” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

“So this,” he grabs a towel and shakes it at me, “isn’t a high priority.”

“Scar!” I frown at how quickly he dismisses me.

“You know what?” He wraps the towel around his waist, cutting off my view. “You shouldn’t be here anymore.”

“You’re kicking me out?” I whisper.

“No. But you can’t be here when I’m here.” He nods as if he’s convincing himself he’s doing the right thing. “Where’s Max?”

“With Nitro.”

“Nina can watch him.”

“Why can he stay, but I can’t?” Panic claws at my chest. I can’t let him send me away.

“Because.” He pulls on a pair of jeans before leaving his bedroom and walking down the hall to the kitchen. I quickly follow him. Nina’s at the sink washing dishes. “Julia’s leaving. She needs to go someplace safer than here. Nitro can take her.”

“You can’t send me away,” I protest.

“She’s right,” Nina says. “Besides, there’s nowhere safer than this house.”

“The clubhouse is safe.” He averts his eyes, refusing to meet my stunned gaze.

“She can’t stay there,” Nina says.

“Look, it’s just for the day. She can come back tonight when I’m gone,” Scar snaps. “End of discussion!”

“What’s his problem?” Nina asks as he stomps toward the garage.