Page 199 of Remorseless

He shouldn’t be in her room at all, but especially in his state of undress.

His bare torso revealed the wide perfection of his chest dusted with hair, and hard abs. Swaths of hair fell onto his forehead. The hunger in his gray eyes frightened and excited her.

He swept his gaze over her and groaned. “You’re naked,” he breathed.

Covering herself hadn’t crossed her mind. She was so comfortable with her body, she walked around nude on many occasions in the privacy of her room.

She stepped aside. “I’ll get a robe.”

Grunting, he brushed past her. She closed the door.

Diesel walked to her refrigerator and took her last beer.

“This ismyroom, fuckhead,” she grouched, stomping to the bathroom where she’d left her robe. A glance in the mirror reminded her she needed to plait her hair, so she swiped a comb from the counter, then stalked back into her room.

Head bowed, Diesel sat on the sofa, one arm spread out over the back. The beer rested on his knee, the other hand wrapped around it. He held the bottle out to her.

“Take a sip.”

She eyed him. Her wariness surprised her. This wasDiesel. He wouldn’t hurt her. Yet he’d allowed those girls to hurt CJ. His recent behavioralarmed her.

He tipped the bottle toward her. “Take a fucking sip, Rebel.”

The command mobilized her, and she walked to her plush little chair, opting for the one farthest away and out of his reach. “Fuck you.” She plopped down. “I don’t want a fucking drink.”

He glared at her. “Shut the fuck up. You sound like a forty-year-old whore.”

“Lovely. Since I didn’t seekyouout, motherfucker, get the fuck out of my room. You’re not sitting your fucking ass inmyprivate space and insulting me.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She began combing her hair. “How the fuck is that my problem?”

He shrugged and gulped beer. “I thought seeing you would calm me.”

“You thought breaking and entering into my fucking room, and watching me sleep, would calm you.” She hit a tangle and tried to jerk the comb through. Instead, pain shot through her scalp, and she hissed. “Sorry to disrupt your stalking.”

A smile curved his lips and amusement danced in his eyes. He finished the beer and sat the bottle on her coffee table. “I don’t stalk anyone, but especially not you.”

She smirked and parted her hair. “Your presence in my room suggests otherwise.”

“You opened the door.”

“Because you couldn’t get in. Don’t twist the narrative to appease your guilt, fuckface.”

His eyes narrowed. “What am I guilty of?”

“I’m not playing this game with you, Diesel.” As much as she tried to go toe-to-toe with him—and many times succeeded—he was beginning to overwhelm her and throw her off-kilter. “I’m tired. I want to plait my hair and go to sleep.”

If she’d waited to wash her hair until tomorrow, she wouldn’t bother with it. Blow drying would take longer than plaits, so she opted for the lesser of two evils.

Diesel stood, and sauntered to her, the pajama bottoms riding low on his hips. She could just see the outline of his cock. Her face flaming, she lowered her lashes.

His fingertips touched her chin and he tipped her head up. She opened her eyes. His erection greeted her and her breath hitched. The moment she met his gaze, he transfixed her. He caressed her cheek, staring at her, daring her to look away. Slowly, he slid his hand along her jawline, tracing the shell of her ear, before burying his fingers in her hair. Her skin prickled and her scalp tingled.

He walked behind her, his hand still tangled in her hair. A moment later, he kissed the back of her head, audibly sniffed, and kissed the same spot again.

“I smell lavender,” he murmured, the warmth of his nearness, the heat of his touch, setting her aflame. “Aunt Meggie uses lemon and lavender in the house. But I smell another scent in your hair.”