he’s having this conversation with me, a grown adult who can’t seem to say the word in front of him. “Sweetheart, you’d be lucky to have my thingy jammed between your legs. Maybe it’d give you a sorely needed dose of chill-the-fuck-out.”
I stare at him, so angry I’m shaking again. All witty retorts have flown clear out of my head.
He kicks off his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket, and rips his shirt off before I can remind myself to look away. Once I capture a single eyeful of those glorious tattooed pecs, it’s like my eyes become glued to him. I can’t look away.
And then he goes for his cargo pants. It’s only when he smirks that I realize I’m transfixed. “See anything you like?”
I whirl away from him. “Sorry!”
Then I realize it’s all his fault for being such an exhibitionist.
“You know, you could get naked in the bathroom and spare me the embarrassment.”
He shrugs. “Can’t sell if you don’t advertise, baby. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you see anything you want to sample, just let me know.”
How about . . . all of it?
I curse my greedy little brain, zip up my jacket, and do my best to face away from him as I skirt to the door. “Don’t make me sicker than I already am. I’m going to go to the mess hall. I need saltines for my stomach.”
“I don’t want anything, sweetheart. Thanks for asking,” he calls after me as I slam the door.
I make it to the mess hall, cursing him. He’s hot, there might be a marriage certificate with our names on it, and obviously we were really close today, but that doesn’t mean he can treat me like that. All we do is bicker like an old married couple. And stripping naked in front of me? What does he think I’m going to do, jump on him?
I’m sure most women would. But I am not most women. And I’m sure I’m not the kind of woman he’s used to. They probably love his tattoos and his dirty mouth and his blatant talk of sex.
Not. Me.
There are a few couples dining in the mess hall. Natalie, the biker woman . . . and Brad? Ivy, the body builder, and Cooper? I can’t remember. They actually all seem to be getting along swimmingly compared to me and Luke. They don’t look at me, so I don’t speak to them. I grab my saltines and go back, since I’m dying to get in the shower.
When I open the door, the first thing I see is Luke’s sculpted, naked ass. He’s standing by the bed, scrubbing a towel through his wet hair. He turns and I shriek. I squeeze my eyes closed and drop my saltines. “Put some clothes on!”
“Shit, girl. I sleep au naturel. If you have a problem with it, you can go somewhere else.”
I’m standing there in the door, eyes cemented closed, afraid to open them for what I might see.
“Your saltines?”
When I do open an eye, he’s holding them out to me. Wearing boxer briefs. “My thingy’s all covered now, sweetheart.”
I let out a sigh and snatch the crackers from his hands. There are water droplets on his shoulders and chest, and the smell of him is thick in the postshower haze. His wet hair is falling in his face, and he’s looking at me with a predatory gleam in his eye. “Don’t do that to me.”
“Do what?”
“Make fun of me. Or . . . look at me like that. Like you want to . . . devour me.”
“Baby, if I wanted to devour you, it already would’ve happened. Since I’d rather do women on a desert island than actually, you know . . . live.” He slips on a T-shirt and cargo pants and leaves as I sit on the edge of the bed.
Trembling at the thought of . . . sampling. What would I sample first? His lips? Yes, of course. He has nice lips. But my mind trails to his hard chest, with all those tattoos, and lower, to his thingy. To his cock. I’m surprised that I like the dirtiness of that word. I’ve felt his cock pressed against me, but I closed my eyes before getting a good look at it a few seconds ago. I imagine it, imagine touching it, taking it into my mouth.
Oh god. I’ve never sucked cock before. Gerald wanted me to, but there is no way I can compare Luke