wasn’t enough, so she regrouped and slipped her hands beneath his shirt instead, touching his abs, feeling the hard muscles ripple in reaction. His skin was warm, the scent of him delicious, and . . . dangerous to her heart and soul. She simply couldn’t be this close to him without losing her tenuous grip on her need and hunger.
He lifted his head and searched her gaze before his mouth curved very slightly and he backed up a step. “When you’re sure,” he said quietly, running his fingers along her jaw. “You’ll say when.” He dropped his hand from her. “’Night, Ivy.”
She stared at his very fine backside as it headed toward the door, her heart still pounding, lips tingling from his kiss. She pulled out her phone, hit his number to call him, and watched as he got halfway out the door before his cell rang.
Pausing, he pulled it from his pocket and eyed the screen and then answered it as he turned back to face her, his lips curved as he found her on her phone as well.
“When,” she said softly but firmly into her phone. She smiled. “And Merry Christmas.”
Eyes on hers, Kel moved in close. “Are you my present?”
When she nodded, he took the phone from her ear and tossed it aside. Still holding her gaze, he tossed his phone as well, which ended up next to hers. Then he pulled her into him. “Can I unwrap you now?”
In answer, she shrugged out of her wet sweater and let it hit the wood floor with a thunk. She toed off her shoes and then waited expectantly.
As she knew he would, he got the message. With another small curve of those lips she wanted back on hers, he bent and untied his work boots and then kicked them off. His leather jacket went next and then his sweatshirt.
Then they stood there staring at each other. She didn’t know about him, but her heart was racing, threatening to burst right out of her chest. She’d not lived like a monk, but she hadn’t been with anyone in a while. She hoped it was like getting back on a bike, because she was pretty sure Kel was about to give her the ride of her life and she intended to measure up. With a deep breath, she pulled off her tank and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans.
“Wait,” he said, a soft but gruff tone as he moved closer. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. His T-shirt went next, all discarded in a heap on the floor with everything else.
She raked her eyes over his bare chest and then let her hands travel up to his sides, her fingers gently brushing his right side and the still healing bruises running down the length of him from shoulder to thigh. “The mechanical bull?” she asked in horror.
“No. Didn’t get out of the way of a desperate-to-escape bad guy fast enough.”
“My God,” she breathed, horrified. “What did he hit you with, a baseball bat?”
“She. And it was a car.”
She let out a breath and let her fingertips rest on a small, but thankfully much older scar on his right shoulder.
“Bullet,” he said.
With a grim frown, she traveled down to another scar on his left flank, also old. She touched it and he shuddered a little.
“Knife.”
She met his gaze. “I thought you were a small-town sheriff.”
“I am.”
“I figured that meant chasing bears out of Dumpsters and driving drunks home,” she said.
He smiled. “There’s plenty of that too.” Bending his head, he brushed his mouth along her jaw to her ear, which he nipped lightly, drawing a sigh of sheer desire from her.
“There’s a lot more to your job than I imagined,” she said, ashamed to realize she’d not given it a lot of thought before. He’d chosen a career that meant walking into danger, where most people ran away from it. That took a certain type of man. A brave one, certainly. One who cared for others enough to risk life and limb.
While she was thinking this, he was busy sliding his big hands from her waist to push her jeans down past her hips. “You’re just about the best present I’ve had in . . .” He shook his head. “A long time. I’m going to unwrap the rest of you now, Ivy.” He lowered his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Slowly . . .”