Page 13 of Savored Sins
“No prob.”
Zeke flashes me that same devastating smile, and it’s honestly a relief when he disappears behind the fitting room curtain. As I hear him unzip his jeans, I plead with my brain to stay focused. I don’t need to imagine what’s going on back there—what Zeke looks like under that tight t-shirt. Whether he’s wearing boxers or briefs.
Or nothing.
God, I hope it’s not nothing. Ew.
“Damn,” Zeke calls from behind the curtain. His voice is muffled and I can tell he’s pulling the henley I gave him over his head. “This fit issharp.”
He whips the curtain aside, and I freeze. He better not be?—
“Relaaaax,” Zeke says, throwing his head back and laughing. “God, you think I’m just going to come waltzing into the middle of your store bare-ass naked? I’m not saying I don’t like a little thrill, butgross.”
He clucks his tongue at me, and there’s that grin again. That dazzling, impish, impossibly charming grin. He’s going to do me in with that thing if I’m not careful.
I sniff. “Well,I’msorry. You’re kind of a loose cannon—and no, I don’t feel bad saying that, because I think that’s exactly what you’re going for.”
He shrugs into the leather jacket I gave him and fixes me with a look. “Huh. Well observed, hot stuff. Well observed.”
I roll my eyes, but I laugh anyway and gesture him over to the mirror. He’s still got his Converse on as he struts across the room, and even though I didn’t ask him to wear them, I have to admit… they’re a pretty good touch to the outfit. The ripped, light-wash jeans—found at a bin in a Denver thrift shop last summer—and the textured henley—stitched into life from two of my aunt’s old throw pillows—suit his build like I styled the outfit with a photo of him in front of me. The jacket, too—which I salvaged from an estate sale a few seasons ago—is a winner.
Damn. Go me.
As I stand behind Zeke, sizing him up to see what alterations need to be made, my eyes skim over his ass. Damn. These jeans are… flattering. I push down the thought, keep my gaze moving. I can feel Zeke’s eyes on me in the mirror, watching my every move.
I clear my throat. I’m still trying to ignore the way those jeans are hugging his ass, and it’s got me the tiniest bit flustered. Nowayam I letting him pick up on that.
“Okay, nice,” I say, nodding. “Honestly, that’s a really good fit. And you look great—the ensemble really suits your build.”
“Thanks.”
Zeke gazes back at me in the mirror, and—well,shit. I think I see pink in those high, chiseled cheekbones.
“Are youblushing?” I squeal, widening my eyes. “Ezekiel Holloway—his Royal Aloofness—isblushing? Come one, come all—gather ye round, this is a day to behold?—”
“Stop it,” Zeke hisses, lunging at me to clap a hand over my mouth. He’s laughing, and the rosy flush has faded as fast as it appeared. “Stop. It was just—a nice compliment. I swear, I am one hundred percent aloof.”
“Wow, what a relief. But a compliment for a compliment, I guess,” I say, casting him a half-smile. “Anyway, as great as it looks, I think we’ll need a couple minor adjustments. Do you mind taking off the jacket?”
I swipe a cloth tape measure and pin cushion off the desk, stick a couple of pins in my mouth, and come to stand behind Zeke. He shrugs off the leather jacket and drapes it over a stool next to the mirror, then straightens himself up to his full height. I place one end of the tape to his shoulder seam and try to pull it taut across his upper back, but I can’t—because he’s whipping his head around to grin at me.
“Dang,” he says, his eyes glinting. “If you wanted to put your hands on me, you could’ve just asked, you know.”
“Oh, knock it off.” I give him a swat and push his shoulders back into place, resuming my measurements.
Zeke breathes in and out, his shoulders rising slightly. He’s watching me in the mirror again, relaxing under my touch.Now that he’s standing still, I’m trying hard not to notice how sculpted his back is.
“Got any idea why your house might be haunted? Or, like,whois there?”
“Not really,” I say around a mouthful of pins. “I mean, the property’s been in my ex’s family for more than a century. The house itself was almost entirely renovated—but they kept the structure intact. Patrick’s mom justhadto keep her fancy-dancy fireplace.”
“Patrick,” Zeke repeats. “That’s your ex?”
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “Yeah—he’s a real gem.”
“Huh. I always thought he was a starfish.”
I snicker, reaching around Zeke’s midsection from behind to measure his torso. It feels weirdly intimate, having my arms around him like this even for the split second it takes to loop the tape measure around him, but I can tell he feels it too because his Adam’s apple bobs.
