Джей Крауновер - Built

It made me want. It made me feel. It made me nervous and it made me very, very afraid.

I was exhausted when I finally pushed open the front door of my house, so it took me a minute to realize something was off. I tossed my laptop case on the couch and scraped my fingernails over my scalp as I pulled my hair loose from where it was tied up. I was too tired even to change my shoes, so I stepped out of my heels and stripped off my blazer, carelessly tossing it on top of where my computer case had landed. A pair of stretchy pants and a giant glass of wine were calling my name even if nothing had really worked to relax me since walking away and leaving Zeb staring after me in the parking lot a couple days ago. The stunned look on his face and the way it bled into anger haunted me, but I kept telling myself it was for the best. He deserved more than a woman with an irreparable heart.

I was halfway up the stairs and had one arm out of my mint-green blouse when my nose twitched and I realized a delicious aroma was coming from my kitchen. Considering neither Poppy nor I could cook much beyond scrambled eggs and bacon, it brought me to a stumbling halt.

“Poppy?” I called my housemate’s name questioningly, pulled my other arm free of my shirt, and draped it absently over the stair railing. I didn’t typically run around the house half dressed, but I was tired and whatever was cooking in my kitchen smelled heavenly. In fact, my belly rumbled loud enough that I could hear it, which would have been mortifying if anyone else had been around.

When Poppy didn’t answer me I padded toward the kitchen to investigate. I called her name again and I felt a tingle of concern at the back of my neck when there still wasn’t a reply. I was contemplating pulling my houndstooth-check skirt off and leaving it in the middle of the living room as I rounded the corner and stuck my head into the brightly painted kitchen. The sight that greeted me had me snapping up straight and automatically moving to cover myself up, even though the massive man standing at my stove had seen everything the lacy bra was covering up and then some.

Zeb had on a blue-and-red plaid shirt, jeans that were so faded they were white and frayed at the seams, and a smirk that made my legs quiver and the place between them clench in an involuntary reaction.

“Nice outfit. I bet that led to a good day in court.” His emerald gaze drifted over my barely covered chest, which was rapidly turning red, and his smile grew more predatory as he watched me try to make sense of what was happening.

“Where’s Poppy? What are you doing here?”

He turned back to the stove, so that I was staring at his broad back in surprised shock. He looked good standing in my house, at my stove. He looked like he belonged there, like he had created this space for himself, and it made my heart kick and my body tighten in longing.

“Poppy is staying the night with Salem and Rowdy as a favor to me. I called her and asked her if I could come over and cook you dinner. I told her she was invited, but when I showed up she had a bag packed and Rowdy was already here to pick her up. She’s a smart girl and very sweet and Rowdy knows exactly what I had in mind. I consider the fact he didn’t punch me in the face as him giving me his seal of approval to date his sister.”

I let my arms fall to my sides since he was no longer facing me and shifted awkwardly on my bare feet. “Why are you cooking me dinner, Zeb? I thought we agreed that we were going to keep things strictly professional from here on out. You in my kitchen has nothing to do with your case.”

He turned back around with a wooden spoon in his hand and my mouth watered at the sight. It hardly had anything to do with the thick tomato sauce that was clinging to the surface. “We didn’t agree on shit. I asked you if you wanted to go on a date, you said no even though you wanted to say yes, and then you ran away. So I decided instead of going on a date I would bring the date to you.” His dark eyebrows shot upward and a sexy grin tilted up the corners of his mouth. “It was nice of you to dress for the occasion.”

I shook my head at him but didn’t bother to try to cover myself up again. I liked the way his eyes got darker and darker the longer he looked at me. It made me warm all over, and that was a feeling I wanted to wrap around myself and never let go of. I pointed a finger between the two of us as he stuck the spoon in his mouth and winked at me. “We aren’t doing this.” I wanted to sound stern and definitive. I didn’t. I sounded wistful and sad.

“It’s already done, Sayer.” He turned and put the spoon on the stove and I watched him crank the heat off. When he turned back around he prowled toward the island in the kitchen that separated us and narrowed his gaze on mine. “You let me in, just a little bit, but I’m a big guy, Say. I have no problem shoving the door all the way open. Now you have two choices: we can sit down and eat this awesome spaghetti I just made . . . clothing optional, or we can go to bed . . . clothing not optional.” His eyebrows snapped low over his mesmerizing eyes and a muscle twitched in his cheek under his beard. “I’m good with either one as long as you realize the second option is happening regardless.”

His words made me quake like the earth was shifting, like the ground wasn’t solid, like all the things that kept me anchored and secure had suddenly broken loose and become insignificant. No one had ever pursued me. No one had ever chased me. No one had ever stuck with me after I pushed them away because I was really, really good at freezing people out. The men in my life were practical, found through convenience or placed there by my father. I dated them because I was supposed to, because it was easy.

But not Zebulon Fuller. He was here, in my kitchen, looking like he was ready to fight not only me but whatever else I might throw in his path. I put a hand to my chest and tried to hold it steady. My heart and my mind wavered forever at war but my body always agreed with him . . . it was done.

“I tried to explain to you why this won’t ever work out between us, Zeb. I had a long day at work and I don’t have the energy to fight you on top of it. Do you think I enjoyed telling you that, that I like being the kind of girl who knows that she’s going to end up hurting a really nice guy? It makes me feel terrible, but it’s true, and it’s easier for me to head you off at the pass than it is for both of us to crash and burn later on. Why collide when we can walk away uninjured?” I wanted to choke on the words.

“That’s your truth, Say. It isn’t mine. Neither of us knows what is going to happen beyond this moment.”

His expression turned thunderous as he leaned forward and braced his arms on the counter. His biceps bulged and the fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. He was so powerful, so big in my space. He really had forced his way inside and I had no way to get him out. I knew that the hole that would be left behind if I did manage to exorcise him from my life would be unfillable and infinite.

“My truth is that I like the woman you are with me and I like the woman you are in court. I like the woman you are with your brother and the way you fought to be his family. I like the woman I first met at the Bar that didn’t judge me when I told her I had been to prison. I like the woman that lets a scared young woman use her house as a sanctuary and leaves a bright red wall in her kitchen to make that same young woman happy. I like the woman who looks at my son and sees that he is everything and is willing to fight for him just because I asked her to. My truth is that you could never be anything other than fascinating and amazing, Sayer, and I fucking hate that you think you are anything else than all of that. So again you have two options, dinner or bed, which one do you want to pick?”