Page 66 of The Risk Taker
I perk up at the hint of teasing in his tone that I’ve never experienced from him before. Narrowing my eyes, I muse, “I think we’ve established I find you hot. Piece of evidence number one being my broken?—”
“I’ve reported it for you. The hotel will replace it today.”
I tilt my head, biting back my smile. “It was worth it even if I have to sleep on the floor the rest of my stay.”
His jaw softens. It’s not a smile. But for him, it might as well be.
“Which of you would be the older twin, hypothetically?” I ask, scanning his face.
The similarities are more obvious now that I’m looking for them. The man in the magazine had short, dark hair. Woody’s is longer and falls into his face at times, giving him a less polished look. Then there are his eyes. Brown again today, but I recall their piercing blue—a perfect match for the ones belonging to the other man.
And he’s broader, more muscular. The other guy looked fit and toned from what I could tell was beneath his suit, but Woody is solid. He’s got the kind of bulging biceps a guy gets from working with his hands all day. And his forearms are tanned, with strong veins.
He’s sexy and hot. And part of me would love to see him wearing a suit like the guy in the magazine, because I know he’d rock that look too.Totally own it.
He runs his thumb over his lower lip, avoiding my gaze. I sigh and pick up another jigsaw piece, searching in silence for a few minutes for the place it fits.
“Sullivan,” he whispers.
I look at the side of his face and his tense jaw until eventually he inclines his head to face me.
“He’d be the older one,” he adds.
“Would people get you mixed up as kids?” I give him a careful smile, not wanting to do anything that will break this moment where he’s actually baring a part of himself to me.
“Those who didn’t know us well might on occasion. But I also have this, and he doesn’t.”
He turns his forearm, revealing a faint scar running along it that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Broke my arm zip lining through the house using a clothes hanger when we were ten.”
I gently run a finger along the lightened line of skin. “You were a daredevil, huh?”
He pauses. “My brother called me The Risk Taker.”
I nod, stroking his skin, not wanting to do anything to ruin this moment. Because at some point, he stopped talking hypothetically.
And he started being honest with me.Finally.
“The Risk Taker,” I repeat, chancing a glance at his face. “So… what was the last risk you took?”
His eyes smolder with a heat that makes my stomach flutter.
“Not turning you away when you climbed into my bed.”
I swallow as he leans closer, reaching up to cup my cheek and dust his thumb over my mouth, pulling my lower lip down and letting it go with a gentle pop.
“Hypothetically, if I were a man who was supposed to be dead, I shouldn’t be kissing smart mouthed little thieves from New York City.”
“Because you hate New York?” I whisper, staring into his eyes.
“Because New York hates me,” he replies, dropping his hand and leaving my skin cold.
His shoulders tighten and he turns away, staring into the distance. I’ve lost him. But for a few precious moments, he shared the real him. And even if he won’t talk about his past anymore, I’m not ready to give up on learning about who he really is.
I’ll find a way to make him open up to me again.
“No one will be back for ages,” I say, looking around the empty camp area. “What do you do for fun around here when you’re by yourself?”
