Temptation's Heat by Michelle Zink Read Free Book Online

keys from the pocket of her jeans.
    “After you,” she said when she’d unlocked all of the deadbolts.
    He stepped hesitantly inside and she relocked everything before heading into the dark apartment, flicking on lights as she went.
    She dropped her keys on a side table she’d pulled off the curb in one of the nicer parts of town. She watched Rowen’s face as he scanned the room.
    She’d adored the place the minute she laid eyes on it. Once an old tinsel factory, it was just one of a hundred old factory buildings in Clifton, but she loved the exposed brick walls, the concrete floor, gray and unadorned. Now, after a year of flea market treasure hunting, the place was an eclectic mix of Persian rugs and obscure art anchored by a new, chocolate-brown sofa.
    Rowen’s eyes strayed to the enormous bed, visible only through gauzy curtains she’d hung from the high ceiling to separate her sleeping quarters from the rest of the large room. Her cheeks grew hot.
    “Please, sit down.” She went into the kitchen for a clean washcloth. “Hold this over the wound to stop the bleeding. I’ll get some warm water and gauze.”
    She turned on a table lamp and lit a few candles near the sofa. The apartment had no overhead light and very few outlets. She would need good light to dress Rowen’s wound.
    She grabbed a large bowl on her way to the bathroom and ran the water until it was warm. While the bowl filled, she gathered a washcloth, gauze, and a tube of anti-bacterial ointment.
    “What is this place?” Rowen asked from the other room.
    Tucking the supplies under her arm, she carried the bowl of water carefully back to the living room.
    “It’s my … private place.”
    “Why private?”
    She dunked a washcloth into the water. “If I told anybody, it would only be a matter of time before Eva was knocking on the door with a bottle of wine, or my brother was showing up to argue strategy for the hundredth time. I just wanted something that was mine, you know?”
    He nodded, looking around. “It’s nice.”
    She smiled, and for the first time, it felt right.
    “Thank you.” He flinched as she reached for the bottom of his shirt. “We need to get that shirt off if we’re going to dress the wound.”
    “Right,” he nodded.
    She reached for the shirt again and heard the intake of his breath as her fingers brushed the bare skin of his stomach. Her face was close, too close, to his. She swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes as she lifted the shirt.
    He raised his arms and she withdrew the shirt from his body. Her heart sped up as she took in the sculpted pecs narrowing to a tight waist, a fine trail of dark hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.
    This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
    She tried to focus on the washcloth, wringing the extra water from it over the bowl, but it was a losing battle. His body was like an erupting volcano next to her, hot and impossible to ignore.
    She took a deep breath and turned back to him, lifting the washcloth to his arm. “This may hurt a little.”
    “Already does,” he said through clenched teeth, and she wondered if he was referring to the wound or the tension building between them.
    He hissed when she touched the washcloth to the back of his arm. She gently cleaned the area around the wound and laid gauze over it. When she was done, she placed a hand on it, wanting to make sure the tape would stay put.
    She didn’t get the chance to pull away before his big hand came down over hers. He brought it to his chest, holding it there until she could feel the soft thump-thump of his heart.
    “Scarlet.”
    She was powerless to avoid his eyes, and when she looked up into them, their faces only inches apart, she knew she was lost.
    He pulled her onto his lap in one swift motion, her side pressed against his chest. “This is going to happen.”
    His tone left no room for argument. Which was fine, because Scarlet was done arguing.
    She sighed as he