Page 14 of The Crowned Garza

“On second thought…” I slide off the stool and pick up my purse. “I’m kinda tired. You can clean up.”

I saunter to the door we entered through and turn the handle. It’s locked. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I catch him pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Come on, Bow Tie. Take me home.”

There’s a tense stretch of silence before his footsteps advance in this direction. Inexplicably, my heartbeat increases the closer he gets.

I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of him. I’m not afraid of him.

He’s right behind me now, so close his breath is raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

His exasperation is palpable.

He says nothing.

Neither do I.

Nothing but the sounds of our breathing fill the space. Mine louder, quickened.

“Is…” I swallow, aiming for unaffected. “Is this the part where you snap my neck?”

The cracked breathlessness of my voice is embarrassing.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” he replies with the indifference and control I failed at. “Fortunately for you, I respect your brothers too much to give in to the urge…”

He respects them? Then what the hell didIever do to him?

His forearm brushes the exposed skin at my waist when he reaches around and scans a black key card. The door beeps at the same time a hitch catches in my throat, and burning heat spreads from the spot where his skin made contact with mine.

He turns the door handle, pushing it open. Behind me, his other hand flattens at the center of my back before shoving me firmly through the door.

~

I’m without words or mischief the entire drive home.

My mind is preoccupied. Trying to decipher why the spot where his arm brushed me earlier is burning like it’s onfire.Why did a hitch catch in my throat? Why did a foreign tingle flow up and down my spine?

Is this what it’s like when a woman’s body involuntarily reacts to a man’s? Seeing as I’ve never beengenuinelyattracted to anyone before, I have no damn clue. Something about that touch, innocuous as it was, has woken something inside me, and—

“Open the door and get out,regalità.”

At the sound of his voice, my unseeing gaze shifts into focus, and I blink.

Oh, we’re here. Did I zone out?

Wordlessly, I undo my seat belt, open the door, and hop out.

“Hell’s frozen over,” he mutters right before I shut the door.

Whatever. He can have tonight’s win. As soon as I get some clarity onwhyhis touch makes me feel like I’ve been zapped with electricity and singed with fire, the game is on again.

Behind me, the car door slams and footfalls crunch in the gravel, trailing me.

He always does this, even though the grounds have twenty-four-hour security and cameras everywhere. Elsewhere, he refuses to get out of the car to open my door for me, but once I’m home in anutterly safeenvironment, he’ll get his long-legged ass out to walk me to my door. Make it make sense.

My keys clatter to the ground when I try to fish them from my purse. With an addled brain, I crouch down to pick them up then almost twist my ankle on the way up.

Oh, for the love of—