“Now who’s grabbing the jiggly parts?”
“What?” I half laughed. “You don’t have any jiggly parts on you. You are all firm muscle.”
“Even the love handles?” His raised eyebrows called my bluff.
“Those are not love handles. These are love handles.” I grabbed the bulbous sides of my hips for proof.
He rolled onto his back, and in a wicked fast movement, flipped me over so he was on top. Lord, those green eyes—a girl could get lost in them.
“I love your curves.” He pressed his lips against mine. “Never knock them. Ever.” With his forearms braced above me, and his legs and body over mine, it created a cocoon of warmth. My insides swirled and sparkled.
He rolled off me and positioned us so we were side by side. He dragged a throw across both of us and adjusted pillows behind our heads. Then he tapped his index finger on the tip of my nose, smiled, and placed a kiss where his finger had been. His free hand roamed along my back and down to my waist. I squelched the desire to push his hands away. After all, he’d just said he liked my curves. He relaxed against the back of the sofa and left his hand on my waist, as if laying claim to my no-touch zone.
“I was about to explode before you came. Had a plan to drink myself into oblivion. And then you show up and I’m relaxed and happy. How’d you do that?” His question threw me, maybe partially because I was still thinking about his hand in the jiggly zone. “How has your day been?” His thumb caressed my cheek, sending tantalizing sensations throughout my core. My thighs squeezed together all on their own.
Those green eyes reflected a lighter evergreen shade. His lighter mood fed me. My day. I did have something good to share.
“It’s been interesting.”
“Yeah.” His lips grazed mine, and his nose nuzzled below my ear. “Tell me.”
“Netflix called.” Shock filtered through his expression as he fully registered my words. He rolled back, creating a gap between our bodies. I rushed to explain. “A reality TV show.” I could swear his eyes widened. “I’m not going to do it. But, still, how cool is that to get that call?” I hadn’t known until that very moment I wasn’t going to do it, but lying beside him, I knew, clear as day. Reality TV wasn’t for me. The nerves sprung up on my insides, just from telling him about it. It didn’t sit right. “I still might go to LA to meet with them, though. Free trip to L.A.”
“I’ll take you to L.A.”
“I didn’t think those small planes you fly could make it to L.A.”
“They make bigger planes. I can buy us tickets.”
There was something about the way he said the word “us” that constricted my lungs and sent a rush of wetness between my legs. No man had ever used the word us, not in relation to me.
He dropped his head and claimed me with a searing kiss. A kiss that forced me to break away, gasping for air. Then I pulled his lips back down to mine and claimed him back. Our tongues tangled, dancing a slow hypnotic dance. Unrushed. He tasted like bourbon, which to me had always tasted like candy. He tugged at my sweater, and I opened my eyes. The late afternoon light poured in through the back wall of windows.
“It’s light.”
“And I want to see you. I want to be the man who sees you in natural light. The man who sees the blemishes. The man who sees all of you. And one day, I want you to see what I see. I want you to see yourself through my eyes. Because through my eyes, you are stunning. A knockout on the outside, yes, but I don’t get caught up on a dimple or what did you call it? Squishy? No, because what’s in here,” he tapped my head, “and what’s in here…” he tapped my heart, “captivates me.”
My throat went dry. I skimmed the pads of my fingers over the rough, dark hairs growing in along his jawline. His biceps bulged as he braced himself partially over me, and I traced the curve of the muscle.
If he’s going to be turned off, might as well find out now, before he really obliterates your heart with that smooth talking.
I raised up, and he helped guide the sweater over my head. He sucked in air as he took in my breasts. It wasn’t my sexiest bra, but it was comfortable and supportive and gave the girls a nice bit of cleavage. He trailed kisses down my neck, to my chest, and then the bra fell away.
He sucked in a nipple and twirled his tongue, and I whimpered. Somehow, I felt his tongue in my core in the form of a burn. A need.
He sat back on his legs and removed his t-shirt, then stood and dropped his jeans to the floor. He helped me remove my leggings and, once again, my panties came right off with them. He moved slowly and methodically, those gorgeous green eyes locked on mine.
There I was, in broad daylight, naked as the day I was born. Embarrassed, I reached out for the throw.
His hand fell over mine, and he shook his head. “I’m a boob guy. I don’t care about the other parts you’re so worried about. And, darling, trust me, you don’t need to be worried. You. Are. Breathtaking. You don’t do as much Photoshopping as you think you do.”
I sucked in a breath and reluctantly let the throw drop to the floor. He reached down to his jeans, pulled out a brown leather wallet, and slipped out a square condom wrapper. He held it up so I could see, set it down on the coffee table, and
