“Yeah, we are.” Taz shrugged.
His nonchalant attitude left her frozen for a moment. It was long enough for them to make it to the penthouse. She dove out the door the second it started opening.
She refused to work for crazy people.
Percy would have to understand.
She was inside her suite before she realized Taz had slid smoothly through the door behind her. She spun around and pointed at the door. “Get out.”
He caught her wrist and jerked her arm around. She popped into position like a rag doll; one moment she was facing him, and the next he had her arm locked up in a martial arts move that made sweat pop out on her forehead. The pain was just enough to keep her from challenging him, because it was going to hurt like hell if she did. He pushed her toward the bed. There was the touch of something smooth against her wrist and a click before he released her.
She looked down and realized he’d handcuffed her to the huge headboard.
“What are you doing?”
He’d retreated a few paces and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Making sure you’re here when Syon wants you. You two need to talk.”
“Fuck what Syon wants.” She snarled and jerked on the handcuffs, but they held. “Unlock these.”
Taz shook his head.
“Are you some kind of idiot?” She jerked on the handcuffs again. “This is illegal.”
“Did you have to take up with someone else so fast?” Taz looked disgusted. “Is this your idea of some sick game?”
“What?” She shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“That dude.” Taz pointed out the window. “You cut Syon deep.”
“Wrong.” The door hit the wall as Syon kicked it in. The handle punched right through the drywall with a dull sound. “I don’t give a shit whose pants you’re hopping into.”
“I made his leather pants,” she explained. “Conan’s jerking your chain, dumb ass.”
And Syon had blood trickling down his chin.
It froze her in place. Horror wrenched her gut and left her stuck between breaths. Nothing else mattered at all.
Syon had gone still, his gaze locked with hers, one hand stopping in midswipe on that trickle of blood.
“That makes sense.” Taz sounded surprised. “A lot of sense. ‘She’s been in my pants real deep…’” He started to laugh softly. “That dude totally got you.”
“You too,” Kate said.
Taz shrugged. “Yeah. Sorry if I hurt your shoulder.”
“Get these cuffs off me,” she demanded.
Syon reached out and pushed Taz toward the open door. It was still open, the doorknob stuck in the drywall.
“They’re making up!” Taz yelled down the hallway. Drake and Ramsey must have come up. “She made that dude’s pants, that’s why she was in them.”
“Like hell we’re making up,” she yelled after Taz. “Get your ass back in here with the key, Taz!”
Taz stopped and tossed a key back; Syon caught it and yanked the door loose. Chunks of drywall dropped to the floor as he shoved it closed with a slam.
“Are you done with him?”
“Done with who?” She jerked on her hand again; this time the cuff bit into her wrist. “I swear, if you don’t unlock me…”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He flipped the key over and fit it into the lock. He was too damned close again. The scent of his skin filled her senses. Just the brush of his fingers against her hand sent a little thrill through her.
“You’re making me crazy.”
She rubbed her wrist and glared at him. “That’s my line. Where the hell does Taz get off handcuffing me to the bed?”
Syon’s eyes narrowed. “He won’t be getting off. Not with you.”
“Like that’s any of your concern. Is Conan alright?”
“Yeah. The dude can hold his own. Had to stop when the cops showed up.” He wiped the blood away, but a fresh trickle appeared. For some reason, the sight of it deflated her anger, which pissed her off again. Couldn’t she even be mad at the guy when he deserved it?
“Shit. You have a show tomorrow night.”
She rolled over the bed and came up on the other side.
“So what?”
Kate rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen. She yanked a plastic bag out of the cabinet and filled it with ice. “Put this on your jaw before you get a bruise.”
She settled the bag against his jaw.
“That’s what makeup is for.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and the bag dropped.
Syon buried his face in her hair instead. “All day I’ve been thinking about how you smell.”
His words were muffled, but she still heard the low, raspy sound of need in his tone. It was like being shocked with a set of jumper cables. She flattened her hands on his chest and tried to push him back. “Really? Then why didn’t you show up for a fitting?”
She hated how hurt she sounded, but the words were out of her mouth.
He cupped her nape, pressing a kiss against her neck. It sent a tingle straight down to her toes. She squealed, struggling against his hold, feeling the tidal wave of arousal beginning to crash down on her.
He let her go, and she bounced onto the bed.
“That’s why.”
She jumped up, her face flaming.
“I tried to stay away because every time I get near you, all I want to do is lick you.” He threw his arms into the air. “You want me to do it too.”
She had her mouth open to fire off a retort, but it died when he locked gazes with her. The world shifted again the second her eyes connected with his caramel ones. She did want him. Bad. She shifted, her clit feeling crushed inside her pants.
“So I gave you some space and came back to find you on another dude’s bike.” He shook his head. “You’re fucking making me…jealous!”
It was a strange compliment. Really strange, because he was pissed off. At least she thought he was, until she looked closer.
Apparently, Syon was just as overwhelmed as she was. The need burning between them was so tangible, it interfered with everything else.
There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, and it hit her straight in the heart.
“What are you doing?”
Kate rolled her eyes at him. “Taking my clothes off.”
She popped the lace holding her corset top closed and untied the knot.
“Why?” He wasn’t waiting for her answer but shrugged out of his leather jacket with a violence that strained the seams.
A rush of cool air hit her overheated skin as she yanked the lace free, and the front of her top sagged open. Her thin top was transparent, allowing him to clearly see her nipples.
“Because we’re too old to hold hands and smooch on the back of your bike while we work up the nerve to justify our actions and give in.”
He groaned, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening. “I want to do that…later.”
He tore off his shirt, and it ripped as he yanked it over his head. The sound hit her heightened senses, driving the heat up another few degrees. Getting out of her clothing was a necessity. She felt trapped by her pants, the leather too thick, too hot to tolerate.
He was chiseled.
And bulky with muscle.
A fatal combination.
She tore at her pants, knotting the lace with her clumsy fingers.
“I want to do it,” he growled; then he scooped her off her feet and dropped her back onto the bed, savage enjoyment glittering in his eyes as she bounced in a jumble of limbs.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about dragging these off you…”
He captured her ankle and pressed a kiss against the inside of it. She gasped, arching her back as sensation took complete control of her. There was no thought, just writhing as he pulled her ankle boot off and dropped it.
He chucked her other boot across the room. “I want to tear this leather off you like a Christmas present.”
“Don’t”—the word got stuck in her mouth—“tear it.”