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A shirtless, sweat-drenched, heavily-tattooed man with a scowl on his face that looks like it might be etched into his skin. I’m caught completely off guard by the flash of heat that runs through me at the sight of him.
While also trying to convince myself that it has nothing to do with the way my heart starts to race at even the mention of the guy fighting. Kane. What a ridiculously hot name.
And God, if I thought he was hot at the gym, all sweat-drenched and with his tattoos on display, it’s nothing compared to the sight of him straddling a bike.
There’s hostility in his tone, but I’m too caught up in the fact that Kane, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, is my neighbor.
hate the way my body instantly reacts to her. It doesn’t matter that it’s six in the morning and she’s bare-faced and sleepy-looking, because all I can think of when I open the door is that she looks adorable. That word shouldn’t even be in my vocabulary.
I suck in a breath at the sight of his sweaty, tattoo-covered body. A bolt of heat flashes through my body at the same time that my lungs demand more oxygen. There are no words for a man that looks like this.
"Jesus, he's hot," I breathe.
"Why are you here?” I suck in a breath at the sound of his voice, so gravelly that I feel it scrape over my bones in a shiver. It takes me a second to process his question. “Same reason everyone else is,” I answer breathily. “I just wanted to watch the fights.” He still hasn’t really turned to look at me. But I see him scoff, right before he says, “Doesn't really seem like your scene, princess."
"Sure, princess," he drawls. "Your sport is as physically grueling as mine."
Before I can think better of it, my head whips around to send the laughing girls a hard look. I don't say anything, and I'm not exactly glaring, but even still, it’s probably not appropriate behavior as a teacher. And yet, I can't help my sudden need to protect Kane.
He just looks like a grumpy bear waving his hands around for help.
Despite his height, his face is inches from mine. And he's staring at me with an expression that's clearly frustrated, a little bit curious, and a whole lot intense. It gives me a chance to study him for a moment. His face is… a sad face. His lips are turned down in a permanent scowl, and I think I see an old scar on his forehead near his hairline. But that's not what sends ice through my veins. He has no smile lines. None.
"You know, princess just makes it sound like you're flirting." Lowering my voice, I add in an almost-whisper, "Are you flirting with me, Kane?" That’s twice now I’ve surprised him. But then he’s frowning as he studies me. When he speaks, his voice is careful. "Fine. Isabella."
The second the shout sounds, the only thing I can focus on is Kane curling an arm around my waist and spinning me to his other side. My back presses against the bar top, and Kane presses against… me.
Despite our close moment at the yoga studio, this is the first time I get a good look at his eyes. They're brown, which is why they didn't particularly stand out before, but now that he's mere inches away from my face, I can see the flecks of gold flashing like lightning around his pupils. And with his gaze now focused only on me, I can't help but wonder if that's a good descriptor of Kane as a person: shrouded by darkness at first glance, but with so much fiery light hidden beneath the surface.
He pauses beside me. Then his lips are at my ear, just barely brushing the skin as he whispers, "And for the record, you knew my name first, princess."
I'm in a bad mood because I can't get my new neighbor out of my fucking head.
Usually, it only takes a single conversation to get people to wise up to my disinterest and convince them I'm not worth the attention. Then I can be back in my own head and free of everyone else's bullshit. Apparently, that doesn't apply to Isabella. Because no matter how many times I push her, mock her, try to put distance between us… she pushes back. And somehow, she's doing it with a smile on her face.
I can't for the life of me figure out why she would care enough to even give me the time of day. I've offered her nothing, yet she keeps coming back.
She wants to keep pushing back? Keep appearing in my life despite the very obvious message that I want to be left alone? Fine, I’ll give her the time of day. I’ll give her my attention.
“You have no idea how annoying it is to know that you can do that without even trying.” I let out a bark of startled laughter. Fuck, when was the last time someone made me laugh? Isabella smiles, looking pleased with my reaction.
"It's just been a bad day," I mumble. "It seems like everything is going wrong. And the cherry on top is that I can't find my keys. I have no idea what to do now." I shrug helplessly. "Guess I really am a princess." And then, to my utter dismay, I start to tear up. There's no way for Kane not to see it, so I don't bother to hide the way I wipe a single escaped tear from my cheek. I simply turn back to my bag and blindly start to rummage through it again. "I don't know anyone who hasn't lost their keys at some point in their life,” he murmurs.
"Come on, I'll give you a ride on my way home.” “Why, so you can make me come on your lap again?”
He’s… amused. The corner of his lip is twitching with a smile, and his eyes are lit up with a twinkle. “Is that the most vulgar thing you’ve ever said out loud?” he asks. I straighten with a sigh. “Yes. And I don’t like that you brought it out of me.” He huffs a laugh at that. I decide I like the sound of Kane’s laugh.
"Come on, princess, in the time it takes you to flag down a taxi, I could already have you home and sitting in a nice little lavender-scented bubble bath."
"Such a furious little ballerina," he murmurs, his lip curling into a smirk. He reaches to attach the strap for me.
The first time I saw him, I noticed his lack of smile lines. And I thought the absence of them was shocking. But now, looking at him when he has a smile on his face, I realize… that’s what’s shocking. Because Kane happy is a showstopper.
"You're the first girl to ride bitch. Is that what you're asking?" I glare at the back of his head, even though the admission makes the butterflies in my stomach take off. "Has anyone ever told you that you're shockingly charming?" He revs the engine. "It's practically my main descriptor."
Except, that was only a warning shot. Kane stops just as quickly as he started, and the whiplash slides me forward and plasters me right up against his back. I don't question the instinct; I just scramble to wrap my arms tightly around his waist. Kane's laugh is deep, and booming. The sound rings through my brain and fills my chest with warmth. Of course, he has to ruin it as he starts to pull away from the curb—slower this time. “Hang on and try not to come again.”
But the idea of leaving Isabella alone and upset in the yoga studio was worse than being careful on the bike for a short ride. At least if she’s with me, I know I can protect her.
Plus, seeing the look of excitement on Oscar’s face when I give him some chicken, or grab the leash to take him for a walk, gives me a burst of happiness.
"You were saying?" she asks, giving me a smug smile. My brow furrows as I stare down at the dog that has barked at no less than a dozen people since I found him. "Make a liar out of me, you little shit," I grumble.
She wipes her hands on her tights, uncaring about the dirt and dog drool now messing up her outfit. I think I like her dirty.
"His what? He's…?" "The fact that you're not aware enough to notice my dog is missing a leg is making me feel better about the fact that I forced you to let me walk you home, princess," I say dryly.
I shouldn't be shocked by the sound of her laughter, but… I am. I can't remember the last time I made someone laugh. And the sound of Isabella doing it causes a warmth to blossom in my chest before I can tamp down on it.
“Have a good night, Isabella.” Her eyes go wide at the sound of me finally uttering her name without condescension, without teasing, just… her name. After a moment’s hesitation, she whispers, “My friends call me Izzy.” I hold her gaze. I don’t even think about it. “I’m not going to call you Izzy.”
Kane looks like he has half a thought to go after the guy, but then he moves toward me with two quick steps, until he's close enough to lift his hand and grip my chin, his eyes boring into mine. "Are you okay?" he demands in a voice that is somehow equal parts urgent and comforting. "Did he hurt you?" "No," I say, breathless in my answer. "He didn't hurt me." Even still, Kane takes a moment to look over my body, his touch shifting to cradle my face instead. It isn't until I grip his forearm with my own hand that his attention snaps back to my face.
And I realize that Kane had several opportunities to deal with the man in a way that probably would have felt very normal to him. Very physical, very violent ways. But he didn't. Because of me. And now he's trying to do the right thing. Because of me.
"Not a chance I'm letting anyone else take her home.” To which he gets a knowing smile from the young cop, and a dazed look from me.
"Can you—I mean, if it's not too much trouble, can you… come inside for a little bit?" And if her stuttered words didn't convince me, her hopeful expression would have. "I can do that." I nod my chin at her front door. "Let's get you inside, princess," I say softly.
It works. Another laugh sounds from her lips, and I ingest it like it's air I need to breathe.
"I got tired of always having to fight,” I add. “I needed to get away from it all." "Or maybe you were tired of surviving," she says absentmindedly, her gaze on where she's twirling her empty mug. "Maybe you wanted to learn how to live, instead."
And I realize that it doesn't matter that I barely know her, there's less and less that I wouldn't do for this girl.
For a moment, it's all I can do to stare at him. To watch as his muscles ripple with every punch, as his sweat shines over every fine inch of him. He’s two hundred pounds of perfect, male specimen, and I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
I have no idea how long I salivate over the sight of Kane: maybe a second, maybe a thousand. But when his gaze eventually meets mine, it still doesn’t feel like long enough.
“Step back. Move away from me.” My words sound unbelievable, even to me. “Good girl,” Kane praises, those two words doing more to me than my first boyfriend managed to do in an entire year. I think Kane knows it, too, because his lip twitches when I feel my cheeks flame.
Isabella glares at him. The sight of it–especially not aimed at me–makes a grin form on my lips. Fuck, she’s sexy.
I suck in a breath at the sight of pain—so much pain—in his eyes. Suddenly, I'm not looking at an angry, grown man, but a sad, broken boy.
I reach for his hand and lace our fingers together. And even more surprisingly, he doesn't shake me off again. In fact, I think I even feel him squeeze me back.
My lip twitches with amusement. I don't think anyone has ever made me laugh as much as Isabella does.
