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spark of heat in his gaze while she was serving him a drink, how his gaze would stray to her chest when she wore a low-cut blouse, or how he always seemed to know exactly where she was, no matter who else was around. However, the moments never lasted long. He seemed to want to deny any attraction whatsoever.
    He didn’t say anything—his mouth had tightened, and he seemed to be deliberately forcing air in and out of his lungs. “I’m attracted to a lot of women.”
    She nodded. “I know that. But you’re still attracted to me. I want to be wanted and want someone in return. I want to not be afraid of sex.”
    “They hurt you.”
    His hands had curled into fists and the corners of his eyes had tightened.
    Blake shoved at his shoulder. “Stop it. We’re not talking about them; we’re talking about me. Yes, they hurt me, but I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about wanting to fuck without worrying that I’m falling for another abusive asshole.”
    He turned toward her and caught at her hands, keeping her from shoving him again. “You don’t know what I am, Blake. Or what I’m capable of.”
    Blake was unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. You’re big and bad and drive a Subaru. You’re Nick. My friend.”
    “Blake—”
    She leaned forward, curling her hands into his sweater, and dragged him down to her. “Trust me, please. Help me.”
    He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and she did what she’d wanted to do for several months—she kissed him, pressing her lips against his fiercely.
    He tasted like coffee and the popcorn they’d eaten while helping the kids, but he wasn’t kissing her back. She could sense his ferocious will as he battled his desire for her. She softened her lips, tasting him delicately with the tip of her tongue, dragging it slowly on the sensitive inside of his lower lip.
    Using her teeth, she bit down, gently, dragging his lower lip through her teeth. “I . . .” She kissed the underside of his jaw, tugging him farther over the middle console. “Want . . .” She kissed one corner of his mouth. “To . . .” The other corner. “Fuck . . .”
    He grabbed the back of her head, burying his hand in the hair beneath her ponytail and using his grip to tilt her head away from him. His eyes were blazing, his nostrils flaring.
    “I can’t,” he said fiercely.
    He released her and turned in his seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “Put on your seat belt.”
    Put on her fucking seat belt. That’s all he was going to say. He was sitting there like a damn statue, every muscle on total lockdown, his erection straining at the crotch of his jeans, and he wanted her to put on her fucking seat belt. Oh, Nick. It was so like him.
    She closed her eyes, letting the humor of the situation wash over her. With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the headrest and dragged her seat belt across her chest, latching it with one hand.
    “You’re too sexy to give up on, you know,” she said quietly. “And I like bothering you. I always have.”
    His mouth tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He just started the car.
    Blake eyed his profile, wishing she could get inside that head of his. “So, unless you tell me why, I’m going to keep bothering you until you give in.”
    “You’re wasting your time,” he muttered tersely.
    Blake felt a smile kick up one side of her mouth. Wasting her time. What a concept. She’d wasted so much time in her life. She knew what it meant to waste time, and what she was doing now, going after something she wanted, taking control of her life—that was the opposite of wasting time, especially because she was enjoying herself.
    “It’s mine to waste,” she said without looking at him again.

4

    EARLY MONDAY MORNING, before the sun even started thinking about coming up, Nick swiped his access card to get into the gym at Accendo. He, Roland, and Milton had known that the only way they’d get in regular workouts was