Lipstick on His Collar by Inez Kelley Page A

Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.
    She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.
    Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”
    “This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he tightened his grip.
    “Like hell it isn’t.”
    “What I mean is that I don’t care what you want, Belle.” He yanked the sink out of her grasp, hefted it onto his shoulder and walked away with it.
    She stayed there, her mouth open in shock while he crossed to her piles and dumped it unceremoniously next to the last one. He walked back, his eyes narrow in the morning sunlight but flaring with brilliant color anyway. Rage made him dangerous. She could sense the ripple of power under his control, feel the energy crackling through him. Her response to it felt elemental, like a magnet being drawn to a far more powerful source. She held the truck wall tighter to keep from going to him, despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her to beckon her. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her. Which only angered her more.
    “Lucas!” She felt his attention shift to her even if his eyes didn’t. “What part of go away is hard for you to understand?”
    He flexed his hands inside the work gloves. Open once. Close once. Open again. Then they closed into a knot of flesh and leather. She felt his gaze hit her like a fist, instantly making her regret pushing.
    She took a step back. Not in fear of him, but his intensity. Every emotion seemed to flow like molten energy in his eyes. Pain. Desire. Anger. Need. Hot, hungry need. She took another step as he came towards her.
    “What’s the matter, Belle? You look worried.”
    Because she was . “I don’t want you here.”
    “Why?” She must look defensive, too, if his pleased perusal meant anything.
    “Why what?”
    “Why don’t you want me here?” With each word he came closer and she retreated further to the warehouse. The dog danced around her feet, looking for a place to stay, probably wondering if this was a game. “You never had a problem with me here before.”
    “I have a problem now.” Yeah, brilliant response, dumbass.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Run for friggin’ Congress, Belinda. Geez.
    “Oh, yes, you do. You never have, but you should.”
    His autocratic remark finally cemented her feet in place. Anger, wonderful, spine-stiffening anger, flooded her. He kept advancing, stopping only when their chests touched with each heaving breath they took. Not that she understood why either of them was breathing so hard. They were only talking…right?
    She poked her finger against his chest. “All I should have to do is tell you to go, Lucas. That’s enough for everyone else.” Well, it would be, if anyone else were allowed on her property.
    “You haven’t told me to go.”
    She thought over their conversation, momentarily befuddled. Hadn’t she told him to leave? She couldn’t remember. “I’m telling you now.”
    “Go ahead.”
    Maybe it was the tremble in her body, having him so close. Or just the power of his gaze drilling into her, but she couldn’t form the words. Any words at all.
    He nodded slowly, understanding—damn him—and their breathing seemed to slow down. She got lost in his gaze, in the fiery touch of his now bare thumb on her jaw.
    “No matter what you do or how you hurt me, you can’t make what’s between us go away. You can’t make me disappear, Belinda. I’m not going anywhere.”
    Her body clenched, caught between wanting to defy and wanting to hide. “You were the one who wanted out, Lucas. I’m just holding you to it.”
    “I was wrong.”
    That required blinking. Lucas was never wrong. He