Rebel is like the sun. He’s stunningly beautiful and impossible to take my eyes from, no matter how bad I know he is for my health. I stand there for what feels like forever, absorbing the vision he makes.

Arms braced against the doorjamb, he’s dressed in a pair of loose fitting blue-gray pajama bottoms with the name of a football team emblazoned up the side of one leg in stark white letters. Somehow, just knowing that he follows the sport makes him seem more human. My gaze continues traveling over him, to his torso on full display, revealing his lightly sun-burnished skin and a dusting of coarse dark hair.

He looks so much like Ransom, it floors me. It has got to be a crime for two men to not only be identical in appearance, but also be so amazing to look at.

“Second thoughts?” Rebel prods, a cocky smile growing on his handsome face. He presses deeper into the doorframe, causing the muscles in his chest and arms to flex. “Afraid the Big, Bad Wolf might bite?”

He’s so self-assured, it ticks me off. Lifting my chin in defiance, I stride toward him. “You of all people should know I’m not afraid of a little teeth.”

Rebel’s gaze is locked on me as I approach. When I reach him, he looks down at me with eyes so black, they appear bottomless. In a voice that’s low and full of gravel, he says, “The better you eat you with, pussycat.”

Flattening my hand on the center of his chest, I push him out of my way and walk into the apartment, fully aware that if he hadn’t wanted me in here, I wouldn’t have stood a chance at moving him. Rebel is solid as a mountain and just as treacherous. I’m also painfully aware that I’ve just ignored my instincts and jumped right into the lion’s den. But it’s too late to back out now.

Dropping my purse on one of the side tables, I say, “Well, I’m here.” Against my better judgment, I’m here. I must be crazy to continue putting myself through this, but damn if I know how to stop. Or if I even want to.

“Yes, you are.” Locking the door, I listen to Rebel’s bare feet pad from the room. “Do you want a drink?”

“Do I need one?”

He doesn’t answer, so I stand there, absorbing the moment of silence. Glancing around the room, I realize that the first time I was here I hadn’t taken the proper time to familiarize myself with the place. It’s nice, for a bachelor. But I guess with the kind of money Rebel hinted at having, it would be.

The floors are a high-quality polished bamboo, light with streaks of pale brown and green running throughout. With the exception of the brown leather recliner, the furniture is modern and sleek, all done in black and tones of gray. The accessories are few—a couple of paintings that look like they were designed by preschoolers, a well-placed vase, a couple bronze statues of naked women, and a glass top coffee table with an elephant serving as its base.

I’ve heard that a person’s personal space can say a lot about them, but I have no idea what this says about Rebel. That he’s cold, one-dimensional, and has a sense of humor? Or that he hired an interior decorator with zero imagination?

A shot of cold touches the side of my neck and I jump. Clasping my chilled skin, I turn to find Rebel smiling back at me. He holds up a shot glass filled with amber liquid. “I thought you could use one of these.”

Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I accept his offer, but I don’t drink it. Whiskey, bourbon, scotch—whatever it is, I have no interest in finding out. I’m going to need all my wits about me to get through tonight.

“To a hell of an evening.” Rebel lifts his glass in a salute and drinks it down. Seeing that I haven’t touched mine, he arches a dark brow. “You have a look…” he muses.

“A look?”

“You don’t trust me.”

Bending down, I deposit my untouched glass on the table. “You’re right, I don’t.”

Tutting, Rebel shakes his head as he reaches for my waist and draws me into him. Every time he does it, I instantly want to melt for him. “If you don’t trust me, then why are you here?”

The look I give him says everything. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Now, now, pussycat. Everyone has a choice.”

“Do they? Because your not-so-subtle threat implied that I don’t.” I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time being angry with someone in my entire life. Rebel seems to be able to pull it out of me with ease, though. And yet, I know the feeling isn’t nearly as strong as it should be.

“It hurts to know that you think so little of me.” His sexy bottom lip pokes out, pouting in a way that I can’t help but begin to thaw. It’s one of those rare moments when Rebel is being playful, and I find myself wanting to smile instead of hit him. What is wrong with me?

Feeling my body begin to relax, Rebel bends his head down and strokes his lips over mine in a gentle, teasing kiss. He’s a confident man, but I can feel him holding back. I don’t know why or how he does it. Whenever Rebel kisses me, it’s like I lose control of my senses. He has complete control over me. With only that featherlight touch, my head is already spinning as if I had downed my shot and his.

“Come,” Rebel murmurs, taking my hand as he steps away. He walks backward toward the couch, pulling me down to sit beside him. Instantly, Rebel reclines back, resting his ankle on his knee as he regards me in stony silence.

It’s uncomfortable, being subjected to such close scrutiny. Sitting on the edge of my seat, my back ramrod, I can already feel the muscles beginning to ache with tension. By now, we’re usually naked with a bed close by. So what is he waiting for?

“What are we doing here, Rebel?” I ask impatiently. “I thought you wanted to fuck.”

His chest expands as he inhales deeply and extends his arms across the back of the couch. “I asked you over tonight so we could talk. But if you’re eager to fuck, I’m flexible.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Oink, oink.” He says it so straight-faced, with zero inflection whatsoever.

I stare at him, unsure how to respond. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him...playful. The laugh that rips out of my chest catches us both off guard. His smile is slow to come, but when he does it, holy hell. It’s like the sun coming out after a storm.

“Oh, Lord, Rebel. I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” I breathe, wiping tears from my eyes.

“Is that what you think?” His eyes hold something—sadness maybe—as he watches me regain my composure.

“It’s what I know,” I clarify. Something about laughing broke through the unease I’d been feeling, and now I sit back, twisting to face him. “You don’t let me in, Rebel. You never have.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “Yes, I have. Every night we were together, I let you in.”

“Not into a room,” I say with a huff of annoyance. “Into your life, to who you are as a person.”

“I know what you meant,” he says, irritated with me now. “And I could say the same about you.”

Is he accusing me of being closed off? “If I was, that’s only because I was following by example. I’m not the one who set the rules, Rebel. You did that. Hell, I wouldn’t even know your name if Ransom hadn’t told me.”

He growls at the mention of his brother, and really, I find it so ridiculous I roll my eyes.

“I did it to protect us.”

“From what?” I challenge, but I don’t wait for his answer. “From bloodthirsty ninjas? From government spies? You did that to protect yourself,” I snarl. “The hotel rooms, the secrecy, Red. All of that was designed to protect you.”

“Red?”

Out of everything I just said, that’s what he chooses to focus on?

“Florence. Whatever,” I say grudgingly. I hate the way her name feels coming from my mouth. It leaves a bitter, vile taste on my tongue. Every time I think of them together, of her sighing his name when he sinks into her, makes me want to puke. Rebel smirks at me, and for the sake of my sanity, I choose to ignore it. “You used her to push me away.”