back of the door. Throw your clothes out, and I'll put them in the wash."
My gaze was on the decorative lamp in the corner of my living room, but I could still see Steele in my peripheral vision. So I saw the grin spread across his face at my suggestion.
"Throw my clothes out for you? Like you've never seen me naked before, MK." His tone was teasing, but his avoidance of Hellcat made my chest tighten. But that was only made worse by the fact that he proceeded to grip the bottom of his T-shirt and raise it up.
I froze. I fucking froze.
My eyes were still on the lamp. Sort of. He knew I was watching him strip, though... Oh for the love of God.
His jeans hit the floor after his T-shirt, and I stopped breathing. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn my back on him and pretend I was totally unaffected by his nakedness.
I wasn't making a good show of it. As I reached for our bags of takeout, his hands came down on the counter to either side of me, caging me in.
"You're not uncomfortable seeing me naked, are you?" he teased, his voice a soft murmur in my ear, and I clenched my teeth to hide the shiver running through me.
I forced a laugh. "Of course not. Why would I be?"
Steele gave a low laugh. Not a single part of him touched me, yet I could feel him everywhere. It was intoxicating. I really was dick drunk on Max Steele.
"So, how come you won't look at me?" he countered, amusement threading his voice. "Or are you worried it'll be too hard to keep your hands to yourself? And then where does that leave your feelings of anger and betrayal?" He no longer sounded teasing, just matter of fact, like he already knew that was exactly what I was thinking.
Gritting my teeth, I turned my head just far enough to see his bare arm all the way up to his tattoo-covered shoulder. "Go and shower, Steele. The food's getting cold."
He didn't immediately move, letting out a breath that bordered on a sigh, like he was disappointed I hadn't risen to his bait. When he finally shifted his hands from the countertop, it was to brush my hair away from the back of my neck.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, all traces of teasing gone like they'd never existed, "I'm sorry. I'll probably be sorry for the rest of my life. But I'm not giving up on us, Hellcat. You mean too much to me now."
I didn't respond. I couldn't, even if I knew what to say. The lump in my throat was way too thick for words to make their way out.
Steele wasn't hanging around to hear my response—or lack thereof—and moments later I heard the click of the bathroom door closing and the shower turn on.
Only then did I release the breath I hadn't known I was holding. It whooshed out of me in a shudder, and the dampness of tears slicked my cheeks. I quickly swept them away with the palm of my hand, but nothing could shake the mess of anxiety Steele had managed to stir up inside me with those few words.
It was what I'd wanted to hear from him for over a month, wasn't it? So why the fuck couldn't I accept it?
It was too easy, that was why. They were just words. I needed more than a pretty apology to let go of the betrayal he'd dealt me in keeping Archer's secrets. Torturing Hank for information was a damn good start, though. Even with the massive chip on my shoulder, I couldn't deny that.
I guess I would just wait and see how forthcoming he wanted to be with that information now.
17
After I got myself changed, I tossed Steele's blood-crusted clothes in my washing machine and reheated our food in the oven—because everyone knows it's the only way to reheat takeout. Microwaves just make it all soggy and gross.
"Can I eat now?" he asked, appearing around the corner with a waft of steam following him.
My mouth instantly went dry. He was fresh and clean, all traces of blood and gore gone from his skin, but he'd taken my suggestion of wearing my bathrobe seriously. The thin, navy blue satin was so tight across his shoulders and arms that I knew he'd stretched it out of shape already, but the way he'd belted it at the waist was all too