Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1) (15 page)

“I never said I didn’t wear the Converse, just that I don’t
wear them as often. And I bet you own at least thirty pairs of shoes, if not
more, so I’m not sure where this conversation is going.”

“Ten,” Violet said.

Kaz leaned against the doorjamb. “Ten what?”

“Ten pairs of shoes. Two of which are black because it goes
with everything. One pair of flats. Sneakers. Two sets of kitten heels, pink
and red. And four other heels that make my legs look great. Nice try, though.”

“Huh.”

“Surprising, is it?” she asked.

“Considering who your mother is, it kind of is.”

Violet tossed him a simpering smile. “Surface appearances
lie, Kaz. You should know that better than most people. But, to be fair, those
ten pairs of shoes can interchange at any time depending on weather, season, or
how pissed off I am at any given thing.”

“And what do you do with the old ones?”

“Unlike you, I don’t keep them.”

He laughed, hard and loud. “So did you find what you were
looking for?”

“Hmm?”

“You couldn’t have started in here,” he said. “I’d be
disappointed if this was all you got around to.”

“You have quite a stack of mail to sort through,” she
replied.

Kaz grinned. “That I do.”

“And your living room looks like a show floor. I suspect
you don’t spend much time in it.”

“Busy,” he offered.

Violet took his word for it, but she thought it might be a
bit more, too. Like maybe he was too high-strung on any given day to sit down
and just enjoy his surroundings. He was probably always on the go, and this
apartment was simply the place he stopped to rest and not much else.

“Are my drawers safe?” he asked.

Violet tipped her chin up, defiant and coy. “I’ll never
tell.”

“If anything goes missing, I know where to find you.”

His joking tone took away what little anxiety might still
have been lingering inside of Violet.

“Aren’t you scared I know all of your secrets now?” she
asked.

Kaz shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Let me guess—because you don’t leave them lying around for
anyone to find?”

“No, this place is full of surprises to find. It’s got
tighter security than even my father’s house. That’s not why at all.”

Violet’s brow furrowed. “Then why?”

“Because the only thing that I’m really concerned with
keeping hidden at the moment is standing just a few feet away from me.”

Oh
.

She fidgeted with her manicured nails as Kaz finally took a
step into the walk-in closet—although it was big enough to be a small
bedroom—she suspected that’s exactly what it had been at one time, before he
remodeled—and shrugged his jacket off. As he grabbed a garment bag down from
the many sections of bars meant for hanging clothes, her gaze was drawn down to
the ruddy, smeared stains at the middle of his white shirt.

Violet knew better than to ask, but her mouth worked faster
than her brain. “Is that blood?”

Kaz didn’t even look down to see what she was talking
about. “Yes, my brother’s.”

She flinched inwardly. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for if you weren’t the one
telling lies, remember?”

“I told you that I didn't do that, Kaz.”

“And I believe you,” he murmured. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t
be here right now.”

Violet didn’t quite know how he wanted her to respond, nor
how she wanted to, so she chose not to say anything at all. Kaz side-stepped
her as he lifted his wrist slightly, and unlinked the cuff of the watch he wore
to place it into an empty slot in one of the many turning displays.

As she watched him begin to undo the buttons on his shirt,
Violet took a quick breath. She had known the moment that he hadn’t directed
his vehicle back toward Manhattan that a suggestion was in the air, hanging
silently between them. He had only confirmed it further when he told her she
could ask to go home at any time, and he would take her there.

She wasn’t a dumb woman—she heard his unspoken words loud
and clear.

Violet figured she had answered them just as clearly,
simply by being where she was.

And yet, seeing Kaz readying for the evening like he was
done for the day, only seemed to heighten her realization of just how far she
had gone with him already tonight.

Violet chewed on her bottom lip.

What was a little farther going to hurt?

He had her so curious—what would feeding it do?

“What?” Kaz asked.

Violet’s gaze jumped up to him. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been staring at my hands for the last two minutes.”

Had she?

“Thinking,” Violet supplied.

It was only then that she realized he hadn’t finished
undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, and had only gotten through the
first two. But since the very top two had already been undone before he began,
her eyes were drawn to the barest hint of ink under his shirt that was peeking
out.

There was no denying the fact that Kaz was a sight to be
seen with his tall, fit form, his darkly handsome features, and an attitude
that almost screamed for someone to back off.

Subtly, Kaz tilted his head, still watching her like he
could read her mind. That unsettled her just a bit—enough to put her off
balance, and nervous under his eye.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly.

Violet stilled on the spot. “Do what?”

“That—overthink and worry. I wouldn’t take you for the kind
of girl who turns shy when a man looks at you. Don’t you know how beautiful you
are?”

That was not what she expected him to say.

“I’m not shy,” Violet said.

“Good. Because I lack the couth it takes to make a woman
comfortable in her own skin. And I don’t want to, either. You shouldn’t need me
to—not looking like you do.”

Well, then …

Violet didn’t feel as unnerved under Kaz’s heavy gaze as he
regarded her for a second time, letting his stare wander down her body and back
up again. Almost imperceptibly, his gray irises darkened, his lips edged up in
one corner, and his tongue snaked out to wet his bottom lip before disappearing
again.

It made her aware of his intentions fully.

And it made her
hot
.

She knew what he had done immediately.

He lied—he had the couth to do it, he just didn’t want to,
and so he did it in his with his own style.

“Well played,” Violet whispered.

Kaz winked. “I thought so.”

He continued his work of undoing the buttons on his dress
shirt as if she wasn't watching him like it was the most interesting thing
she’d seen all day and he wasn't the least bit bothered by her attention. Or
that she had a better view of the tattoos on his fingers, like the circle with
a dot in the middle, or the cross on a dark background—she wondered what they
meant. As he pulled the shirt off entirely, Violet’s mouth went dry. The white
fabric hung loosely from his fist as Kaz turned slightly, giving her a full
view of the artwork she had only gotten a bare glimpse of earlier.

There were the twin stars inked just beneath his
collarbone, one on either side of his chest, but what captured her attention
the most were the three Russian cathedral domes tattooed on his chest. They
were tattooed with incredible detail, as though the artist had spent hours
painstakingly crafting each one. But despite how much space the tattoo took up
on his chest, it was the only one she could see besides the stars.

Despite how easily she could get caught up in his tattoos
and what they might mean to him, her gaze was quickly taking in the rest of his
bare chest, too. The slight tease of his shirts stretching across his pecs and
hinting at what was beneath did not do him justice. The man was cut—defined
ridges and a hard “V” where his pants hung low on his hips that demanded
exploring, especially that light dusting of dark hair that disappeared below
his waistline.

Jesus
.

Kaz was goddamn gorgeous.

She decided the eight-pointed stars were her favorite,
though.

Kaz caught her staring again, but Violet wasn’t the least
bit ashamed. “See something you like?”

His arrogance was amusing. Most men thought themselves as
confident, mysterious, and cocky all rolled into one, but they just came off as
assholes. Kaz didn’t even have to try, he was all those things rolled into
one—including the asshole, sometimes—and Violet liked it a lot.

“Yes,” she said, shrugging.

“Straightforward, are you?”

“I’m not a liar, Kaz.”

What else did he expect?

“Do they mean something?” she asked, her stare dropping
down to his tattoos again.

“Yes,” Kaz said.

“What?”

“It’s a story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

“What story?” she asked.

“Mine.”

Violet stilled when Kaz moved directly in front of her, almost
crowding her. He lifted his right hand, and his fingers skimmed under the
collar of the bomber jacket she wore.

Quietly but surely, he asked, “Can I?”

She nodded.

Kaz pulled at the collar of her jacket until it started to
fall down her arms. Once the item hit the floor, his attention was back on her.
His fingers grazed her neck with a soft touch, surprising her.

“Not shy,” he said, almost like a reminder.

His softness was gone just like that. The pads of his
fingers pressed into her collarbones and traveled lower to the neckline of her
tank-top, wicked and promising. A huskiness colored up his tone, making her
shiver.

Violet shook her head. “Not shy, Kaz.”

How could she be shy under his regard when he was making it
seem like she was the one and only thing he wanted to look at?

Again, Kaz stepped closer. He was so close that she
could feel the warmth of his chest brush her arm as he leaned slightly to the
side and tossed his white shirt into a small garbage bin behind them.

“Blood doesn’t wash out,” he said, more to himself than to
her.

Violet was still listening. “Shame. I liked that shirt.”

She could almost see his smirk when he replied, “I think
you liked the person wearing it more.”

“Maybe. But maybe not.”

“You’ll never tell, huh?”

Violet turned her head, catching his eye with her own.
“Nope.”

Apparently, that look was all Kaz needed. Violet barely
took a breath just a blink before his mouth was on hers. Her lips parted the
second his tongue struck at the seam, demanding entrance. His hand landed to
her waist as his other caught her right under her jaw. Her back hit a row of
shelves as her hand grabbed the belt at his waist. He tipped her head back, and
his hand slid lower on her throat.

Because those hands—she liked his hands.

But it was his tongue seeking hers, and his groan building
deep in the back of his throat that made her ache.

Kaz pulled back, just enough to let her take in a sharp
breath. He was still close enough that his stubble scraped her lips as he
watched her under dark, lowered lashes.

What was he waiting for?

What did he want?

Violet didn’t have the patience to be tampered and teased.
She let her fingers unfurl from his belt, and her fingernails dragged down his
stomach, insistent and firm. Kaz crowded her again, letting her feel the hard
length of his erection digging into her body.

“So sweet,” he murmured.

Violet blinked. “Am I?”

“Your mouth. It makes me wonder what else might taste sweet
on you.”

She swallowed hard. “Care to find out?”

“I’ll get there.”

His words sounded like a promise.

Entirely.

Violet’s fingers dug into the railroad path of Kaz’s
abdominal muscles when his lips found hers again, rough and hot. She suddenly
felt hyperaware of his hands as one traveled down her side and the other moved
from her waist to the hem of her shirt. She let him fist the material of the
top and pull it up. He only broke the kiss long enough to toss her shirt
somewhere behind him on the floor.

Those hands of his, so insistent and wanting, pushed her
shoulders, driving her harder into the shelves. Violet didn’t even mind, she
just yanked him closer.

“Off,” he demanded, fingers curling under her bra straps.
“Let me take it off, or you do it. But it comes off now.”

Here would have been the best time, she thought, to tell
him to stop.

Before he took anymore from her—before she gave him anymore.
Before he had the chance to see or have parts of her that weren’t supposed to
be meant for him, and that she wasn’t supposed to show.