“Yes … um, your mom said I could. I didn’t know you were here.” As the shock of seeing him settles, a sense of unease creeps beneath my skin. Zeno made it perfectly clear in the past that he didn’t want me in his house. I try to squash the self-doubt. I am an invited guest, whether he likes it or not.
“I got in this morning. Just went out for a run.”
“I see that.” I swallow at my own semi-admission that I’ve been ogling him.
Z’s hypnotic gaze holds me captive until he peers down at the book in his hand. That’s when I remember what it was I’d been reading. Of all the books he possibly could have caught me with, and I cruise through nearly one a day, it had to be the one time I was scratching an itch for a historical romance. The book is the epitome of bodice-ripping, virgin-snatching, ra
