knotting the fabric up, then smoothing it out, over and over. Yeah. She wasn’t done, not by a long shot.
“Sebastian and Keelie are both mouthing off about how I don’t know you,” she finally said. “Are . . . are they right? Do I know you?”
He was going to kick his little brother’s ass. Screw being considerate and not messing up his brother’s pretty face. If the idiot wanted to make sure he wasn’t messed up for his job, maybe he shouldn’t have been messing with Zach’s woman.
His hand tightened on her waist as those words rolled through him. My woman . . . damn. He’d only been waiting half his life to be able to say that. Think that.
And . . . she’d never known.
Do I know you?
The sadness, the uncertainty in her voice ripped at him. Yeah, there were things she didn’t know, but those were things he’d kept from her. Things he hadn’t let her see. That was his issue, not hers. And fuck Sebastian, fuck Keelie, for putting that pain in her eyes.
Shifting around on the couch, he tumbled her down onto her back, ignoring the screaming pain that went through him as he did it. He didn’t care how much it hurt just then, because he needed to touch her, needed to hold her, and he needed to see her and have her see him. Tucking her body under his, he pressed his face against her neck as he waited for the pain to fade a little before he spoke.
“How old was I when I decided I should start smoking?” he whispered against her neck.
She skimmed a hand up his back and sighed. “You were fifteen. And I laughed my ass off when you got sick on set and puked your guts up because you were trying to finish the damn cigarette with that cute extra you were trying to impress.”
He’d been trying to make Abby jealous, but that was beside the point. It hadn’t worked and that was because the feelings just hadn’t been there on her side.
“Yeah. And Mom thought I had the flu . . . right up until she smelled the smoke on my clothes. I had her convinced somebody else had been smoking around me but then you went and tattled on me.” He lifted his head and brushed her hair back from her face. “You remember how long I went without speaking to you?”
She laid a hand on his cheek. “A week. It was one of the longest weeks of my life.”
“Mine, too.” He rubbed his cheek against her palm and then dipped his head so he could kiss her mouth. That mouth, damn it. He’d only been waiting years to kiss her. “Although I did manage to get most of the scenes done in one take that week.”
She made a face at him. “Yeah, one week out of how many years? I always nailed things in one take.”
“You didn’t that week.” He stroked a thumb down her cheek.
“You probably had fun watching me screw up.” She pushed a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t help it. You were mad at me and I was miserable. I couldn’t concentrate.”
“I didn’t have fun watching you screw up.” Turning his face, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “I missed talking to you, teasing you while we went through our lines. And I kept trying to think about how I could fix things.”
She stared up at him, her eyes solemn, dark . . . and still sad.
“When did I first start talking about opening a place of my own?”
“After your first tattoo. Zach . . . I know I know stuff about you, but lots of people know stuff.” Then she averted her face and sighed. “Damn it, I sound like an idiot. Look, forget I said anything—”
“Have I ever cried during a movie?”
She blinked and then started to laugh. “Okay, now Zach . . . that’s bad. You cry every damn time you watch Old Yeller.”
“I don’t.” He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “I wouldn’t dare let myself do that if my brothers were around. Or anybody else, really. With you . . . it’s different.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Geez, thanks.”
He skimmed his lips along the delicate line of her collarbone, along her neck, up until he reached her ear. Then he caught her earlobe in between his teeth. “What’s one place I’ve always wanted to go, and haven’t been?”