Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,85
and womanly. A safe bet for both.
She brushed her teeth, wrapped her hair in a towel, and slipped on the complimentary terry cloth robe.
A few minutes later there was light knock at the door. Taylor hurried to answer it, assuming it was the bellhop bringing the clothing delivery.
Instead, Bennett stood there, looking rumpled, damp, and sexy in khaki linen pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. His lightly tanned skin had a light sheen of sweat, and his hair was mussed in a hot bed-play kind of way.
Her pulse slammed into overdrive.
“Ms. Reed.” His lips twitched, and those intense blue eyes swept over her body. “I hope your flight was uneventful?”
She blinked at him, feeling like she just might lose her nerve. It was one thing coming all the way to Bali, knowing that things were going to change between them, but it was another thing entirely staring at this big magnificent male with a profusely carnal gaze and sultry lips, knowing she was going to have him inside her body.
“Yep.” She gulped, unable to find anything remotely casual to say.
“Are you going to ask me in?” He rubbed his jaw, which had passed out of the stubble-zone and was now officially covered in a very short, thick dark beard. He looked hotter than hell.
“Oh, of course.” She stepped aside, and when he passed by, she smelled that addictive concoction of his light sweat and expensive cologne—a sort of fresh, clean, citrus mixed with raw man. “This place is incredible. Do you sex here a lot?”
He lifted a brow. “Uh. No. Not really. I prefer to sex at my estate in the comfort of my own bed.”
She looked at him, scrunching her brows together.
“You asked if I ‘sexed’ here a lot,” he said.
She cupped her hands over her mouth. “I did?” she mumbled through her fingers.
He smiled and then reached out, pulling her hands away and stroking the corner of her lip. She began shaking, and he must’ve noticed because he dropped his hand.
“You look like you could use a drink.” He glided that tall, broad-shouldered body of his over to the wet bar.
“You read my mind. I’ll have penis.”
“Will you now?” He laughed and gave her a look. “I’m not sure I know that drink, but I think I can come up with something.”
“You don’t know wine? It’s that stuff that comes from grapes.”
“You said ‘penis.’ ”
No I didn’t. Oh my God. What’s the matter with me? “I did?” This X-rated tongue-tying had never happened to her before. Of course, she’d never been with a man like him.
“I thought I was nervous about tonight,” he mumbled under his breath while pouring the drinks.
He was nervous, too? Bennett Wade? That man had everything going on. Everything. How could he be nervous?
She tightened the cloth belt around her waist and sat on the overstuffed white couch facing the gas indoor-outdoor fireplace. It likely connected to the world’s nicest porch with a view of the Indian Ocean. She’d go check it out, but she was too busy worrying about what to say. How did a woman like her even begin a night like this with a man like that who probably had very high expectations about sex?
If he’s lucky, he’ll get “really good” out of me.
Honestly, she’d never experienced anything above mediocre, so she wasn’t sure how to deliver “really good” let alone unforgettable or mind-blowing, both being the next levels up on the sex-awesomeness scale, only superseded by “Holy shit, kill me now because my life just peaked, and it’s all downhill from here unless he can do it again, in which case, I need some Gatorade and an energy bar.” Of course, her sights were set infinitely lower, toward just the really-good bar. Maybe he’d find some novelty in it? Just like he might in seeing a nonsurgically enhanced body?
Oh no. Should I prepare him? She didn’t have fake boobs, and she certainly didn’t have a perfect body. Hers could be described as Rubenesque, sort of round and squishy with small, half-grapefruits for breasts topped with soft little nipples that perked up only when cold or touched in the right way. No sexy perma-erasers here.
As for her ass, well, it was an ass. Not too tight, but round and soft and great for sitting on things. That was good, right? Of course, her thighs could use a little toning. They’re flabby, okay? Flabby!