CHAPTER 13

“Down there.” Darius hooked a thumb past a long row of shelves and cupboards, and Zion raced to the bathroom as if he’d suddenly realized he might not make it in time. Literally the second the door closed behind him, Darius was standing right in front of her, pulling her up, pushing the stool she sat on back against the wall, and framing her head with his hands. His he-man act shot a forbidden thrill right through her—the same forbidden thrill she felt with him every single time, whether it was smart of her or not. 





Her mouth was suddenly dry as she looked up at him, her breath coming fast. “You don’t like it when I touch you in front of anyone else?” He dipped his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. “You don’t like them thinking you’re mine?” Oh God. She could barely process what he was saying when he was this close to her, not quite kissing her, but heating her up all over just the same. “I’m—” She worked to gather enough oxygen, and brain cells, to be able to tell him, “I’m not yours.” He pulled back slowly, his hair brushing along her cheek. It was incredibly soft. And he smelled so good as he said, “Not yet,” his low voice humming along her nerve endings. “Soon.” She knew what she should be doing. 





She should be pushing him away and making it clear to him—yet again—that their kiss by the aqueduct had been nothing more than a crazy whim. But when he slipped to the other side of her face and sensually nipped at her earlobe, she forgot where they were, she forgot Zion, she forgot about his friend seeing them together, she even forgot her name. As if they didn’t even belong to her, her hands reached up, nearly taking hold of his shirt. The toilet flushed at the other end of the barn and she felt the rumble of Darius low—and clearly frustrated—laugh against her throat. “Very soon we’ll both have what we want,” he promised her as he slowly pushed away from the wall, then turned around to focus once again on her brother and the car.





* * *





By the end of the afternoon, Darius was so keyed up from wanting Nathalie, he was ready to blast past every last wall that she was still trying to hold up. But rushing her wasn’t part of his game plan. She had to be ready. More than ready—he wanted her desperate and wild, the way she’d been that night at the deserted fountain. They’d left an hour ago, without his securing another date with Nathalie. In fact, for the rest of the afternoon, though she’d been involved in taking pictures of their progress—and she’d been perfectly polite—he could easily guess that she was stewing on everything that had happened between them. 





And everything he’d said. Soon we’ll both have what we want. Darius wasn’t a man who waited for what he wanted. And he wanted her badly enough that he’d been sorely tempted to ask them to come back tomorrow. But he’d corralled every ounce of his self-control and had, instead, let her go with the promise that she and Zion would return the following Saturday. When they’d do the dance all over again. Until Nathalie wanted him as badly as he wanted her—and no longer thought she needed to keep fighting the inevitable. Because if there was one thing Darius knew for sure, it was that the sparks between him and Nathalie wouldn’t be nearly so hot if they weren’t supposed to come together. 





His cell rang beside him on the arm of his chair, signaling that his favorite person in Chicago was calling. “So,” Sally said after his warm greeting, “I hear you have some new friends.” He choked out a laugh. “Ares gossips like an old woman. It’s only been six hours since he met Nathalie and Zion.” “You know he always checks in with us on Saturday.” Ares tended to be driven by routine. Darius, on the other hand, called Sally and George a couple of times a week without any set schedule. “He’s still a gossip,” he said without rancor. Sally was the closest thing Darius had to a mother. He barely remembered his real mom. 





And it was Sally, along with George, who had helped Darius become the man he was, instead of the man his father would have turned him into. Sally had been a waitress and George a baggage handler at the airport, even after he’d injured his back. They hadn’t had much money, but they’d taken in each and every one of the Baddricks. Loved them. And treated them like their own. Darius would do anything for them. And the other Baddricks felt exactly the same. Their bond was stronger than any blood tie could have been. “How’s George doing?” Darius asked before Sally could start peppering him with questions. 





“You know him.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “He’s got to be out there helping the contractor put the new deck in. Can’t just sit and watch.” The first thing the Baddricks had done when the money started rolling in was to get George the back surgery he’d badly needed. He’d still stubbornly continued to work long after Argus or any one of the Baddricks could have supported both him and Sally. It had taken years to convince him that a less physically demanding desk job might not be as bad as he thought. Then finally, last year, he’d agreed to retire and start enjoying life. But he wasn’t yet sixty and no one was putting him out to pasture, as he loved to say.