Sexy Wreck

Chapter 8

A tiny thrill shot through her, bolstering not only her desire for this man, but her fortitude, as well. She was beginning to understand Zeke well enough to realize he was trying to instill a bit of fear in her with his words, and eventually, his actions. But she was ready to take whatever he dished out and give back as good as he delivered.

I don't consider my trip here wasted. Not according to the ultimatum you issued me last night." She mile confidently "I believe you told me that if I wanted the pictures, I was going to have to spend the weekend alone with you here at your cabin to get them. Well, here I am. I'll honor my end of the bargain if your honor yours."

"God, you are the most thickheaded woman I've ever met!"He slashed a hand between them "You just don't get it, do you?"

"No, I don't get your resistance at all." And she desperately wanted to understand his reasons.

He stalked toward her, slow and predatory, his expression as dark as a summer storm. "You don't want me for your magazine."

She released an exasperated breath. "I wouldn't have come this far if I didn't." She shook her head, and the swish of her hair tickled her neck. "Fiona told me you're one of the kindest, most caring and giving guys she knows, and even she can't understand why this is such a problem for you."

He stopped less than a foot away, the heat and male scent of him overwhelming her thoughts, arousing her body, and creating a heavy, tingling sensation between her thighs. The man's ability to turn her on, even during a confrontation, was nothing short of amazing. The again, Zeke was an amazingly sexy guy who'd been a part of her most erotic fantasies for months now.

He didn't reply, just glared and remained quiet, emanating a a sexual kind of tension that seemed to increase with each passing second between them.

"Give me a solid reason why you can't do this magazine project for me." she said, pushing him for an answer, even while she resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, to see if she could shatter that control of his. Instead, she provoked him with the only arsenal she had at hand - her words. Quit skirting whatever it is that has you so bent out of shape, and convince me that I need to find someone else."

"You want a solid reason?" He was literally in her face, his tone low and furious as he yanked the hem of his gray T-shirt from his jeans. "I'll give you three reasons why you need to turn tail and get the hell out of here and find yourself another willing guy."

In one smooth move, he turned around and ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the counter. For a moment she was confused, and the she gasped in startles surprise when the she noticed that his beautiful back, sculpted from outdoor sports and physical labor, was marred by two long, thick, healed scars that slashed from his left shoulder down to the middle of his back.

"That's two reasons" he bit out, and faced her again, his hands quickly unbuckling his belt, unfastening the button to his jeans, and easing down his zipper just low enough to show her yet another imprefection. "And here's your third reason."

She swallowed hard and glanced down, following the black line of hair that bisected his abdomen, swirled around his navel, and arrowed down to his groin. Somehow, despite the raging arousal straining against the confines of his underwear, he managed to remain decent. But at the moment, it wasn't his erection tha captured her attention; instead her gaze was riveted to yet another line of red, puckered skin that started just above his hipbone, traveled inward and ended only inches away from the most masculine part of im.

"Satisfied?" he drawled in a mocking tone.

She lifted her gaze back to his face just in time to see a glimpse of guarded emotions before they were chased away with a scowl, There was a story behind those scars, she was sure. One that encompassed a whole lot more than sustaining a physical injury. Those wounds might have healed, but she was betting there were other memories that were still fresh and raw, which was the cause of those barriers he's erected between them, along with his defiant anger. She ached to know what happened, but knew now wasn't the time to press that particular issue.

"Zeke..." she breathed, not sure what to say for pushing him to this extreme, but unable to regret finding out the truth. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity or sympathy." He paced away from her, not bother to zip up is jeans, and those scars on his back shifted and bunched with every move he made. "I just want you to leave me the hell alone."

She just bet he did, but he'd done nothing to convince her to find another guy for her project. She still wanted Zeke, and all he represented. Strength, athleticism, along with a not so tamable wildness that would prompt a whole lot of women to purchase the magazine.

She followed behind him, uncaring that she was crowding his personal space. "I don't pity you. You wanted to shock me, and you did, because that was the last thing I'd expected. But those scars don't change my mind. In fact, they make you human and give you a sexy edge that makes you all the more appealing."

He turned back around, his expression a mixture of incredulity and anger. Her traitorous gaze was once again drawn to the scar on his hip that now disappeared into the waistband of his briefs. His entire body vibrated with aggression, like a high voltage wire just waiting to snap.

Slowly, she reached out and glided the pad of her finger along the beginning of the scar. He flinched, and before she could trace the length, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away, but didn't let her go.