Chapter 43

• When the three of us stride into the kitchen, sweaty and covered in dirt, we find Kian standing in front of Erik’s old-fashioned mint green refrigerator, a clump of lunchmeat in one hand. He’s wet from a shower and wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans. With his tapered waist and muscles on display, plus those tattoos I know so intimately, I find myself staring.
• He glances over at me, and our gazes lock before I can look away.
• Busted.