Page 41 of Fool Me Twice
While he didn’t agree with much of what Cane got up to, there were far worse people in Slatehollow in the grand scheme of things. People who were probably in this warehouse right now. Cane wasn’t exactly at the top of the list of people who needed retribution paid to them.
“Busy night,” Hart said, trying to initiate conversation again, tired of the tension and the silence around them, needing it to stop making his palms clammy and sticking strands of hair to his neck in a nervous sweat.
“One of the larger fights this month is scheduled to close,” Cane said, finally using his words. “These smaller ones are like appetizers.”
“Still a full house,” Hart said.
“We gotta offer something to the bottom of the barrel.”
Hart turned his head, arching a brow at Cane’s harsh profile. His strong features were half shadowed, the other half bathed in red. “Excuse me?”
Cane shrugged, unapologetic as always. Infuriating. It made Hart’s skin crawl for all the wrong reasons. Made excitement rise that he tried to hold back.
“Smaller fights, smaller bets,” Cane said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “But it’s entertainment for the masses. We cater to everyone.”
“How noble.” Hart rolled his eyes. “How many fights do you have scheduled tonight? How many people do you expect to show up, and will I have to pay specific attention to any of those people in attendance?”
Cane dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his boot before turning toward him. He leaned a bare shoulder against the glass, close enough for Hart to feel the heat from his skin emanating outward with beckoning hands. Tempting him close.
“Three small fights,” Cane said. “Not expecting anyone of importance there.”
“And the big one?”
“It’s my biggest fighter against an up-and-coming kid from out of town,” Cane said. “The kid is a signed fighter with a…shall we say, acquaintance of mine.”
“And will the ‘acquaintance’ be here tonight?” Hart asked, catching the subtle shift in tone at the word.
“He sure will,” Cane said. “And he doesn’t really like me.”
“Shocking.”
Cane tilted his head, a wide grin revealing his teeth. “Now, now, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and rumbling. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle. “Pretending is pointless.”
“Pretending what?” Hart asked, breaking their eye contact and focusing on the fight.
“That you don’t like me,” Cane said, taking a step closer until his naked chest was touching Hart’s shoulder, his mouth at his ear. “Or that you don’t know what I can do to you.”
Hart sucked in a breath, biting his lip to keep himself from moaning, setting his face into a hard expression he hoped hid just how affected he was. He refused to fall back into Cane. Last night had been a mistake.
“I’m here to work,” he said, short and sharp.
“Oh, I know,” Cane said, lifting his hand up and flicking one errant lock of hair at the back of Hart’s neck with his pinky. “But I’d be an idiot to have you this close without getting under your…”
He paused to run his gaze all over Hart, undressing him the way he always did. Like he could see beneath the slacks and the cashmere and the fancy boots. Like Hart’s skin was his for the taking.
Like Hart’s entire being was his.
“Stop it,” Hart whispered. “You took enough.”
“But I also gave you a lot, didn’t I, sweetheart?” Cane said, stepping even closer, but turning his body so his chest was glued to Hart’s back, caging Hart between him and the glass.
“It’s in the past.”
He could feel Cane’s breath on his neck, could feel his nose brushing through his hair. He was everywhere.
“For now,” Cane said, dropping a barely there kiss onto Hart’s neck before stepping away with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Hart wanted to argue. He wanted to kick back and protest and reestablish his boundaries, but he realized he had very few left when it came to Cane. He just came barreling in and Hart let him. Every time, it seemed.