“That Snoopy is a genius.” He returned the grin. When he teased me, it felt rare, like a massive diamond falling from the sky, right into a pauper’s lap.
“No,” I laughed. “Eleanor Roosevelt.”
He stood, taking my hands with him until he had to break our connection. I sighed; a wistful sound. This elicited an even broader grin.
He moved toward the bathroom, removing his shirt as he went.
Oh God.A popping noise came from my mouth when it fell open. My skin felt as thin as paper, and my cheeks rushed with blood hotter than a fire, but my eyes were magnetized to wherever he moved. His skin was smooth, the perfect sun-kissed color, and every muscle flexed in a way that made a pulse between my legs throb. The deep V carved into his stomach gave new meaning to sex lines.
The higher power that had put him together had to love women, as Violet had said. She also said thathe was the type of man that made clothing optional. And…he was the kind of man that made sweating mandatory. I liked the idea of all these things withthatman.
He threw the shirt over his shoulder, turning to dig in his bag. The muscles in his back were broad and powerful.
He had a gladiator’s body and the personality to match.There was no doubt in my mind that this man would stand up to lions. He seemed to have the heart of one.
The ribbon tattoo on his arm was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. It fit him as though it belonged since birth. A mark.Mine. On his skin.The thought made my heart expand and ache. It seemed to dissolve into my bloodstream and infect my entire body.
“Your eyes are wicked, Ballerina Girl,” he said, and I blinked, realizing that he had to be talking to me. I had to fight the urge to look behind me, to make sure he wasn’t speaking to someone else.
“Méchant,” I whispered.Wicked, in French. Somehow the word seemed better suited to him than me.
He licked his lips. I licked mine. His distinctly male scent percolated through the air, and I inhaled it, deep inside of my lungs.
“I know what you need better than you do,” he said, his tone even, but his eyes spoke a different language.
No doubt,my mind screamed, but not a word came from my mouth.
“Those eyes,” he repeated, our stares lingering, then he shook his head. “Food’s on the table. Be ready when I get out of the shower.”
“Where are we going?” I swayed, before I was able to sit up straight. “Do today’s activities include sweating?”
He turned his face a fraction, giving me a sideways look. “Whatever we want.”
“Ah.” I sucked in a breath. “Does that mean we’re alone?”
“Mitch and Violet are still here. The rest went home.” From his tone alone I gathered that he had sent them home. Or he had Mitch or Mick do it. He excelled at that, giving orders.
I lifted my brows. He lifted his hands.
“Where’s Mick?” I asked.
“Gone. He had some schoolwork to finish. You wanted to talk. We have some of that left to do.” Brando’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.
“Brando?”
“Yeah.”
“Do people always do as you tell them to?”
This time his grin was as genuine as I had ever seen it. “All but one, Ballerina Girl.”
“Smart girl,” I said and smiled.
He didn’t return it.
The caffeine started to course through my bloodstream and I felt wired all of a sudden. “Brando? One more thing.” I lifted the mug from the stand. “This cup seems to be too big for this small table. It might fall over and break. Amess. Can you pick up the kitchen table and bring it over here, please?” I bit my bottom lip, sucking it in.
He looked at the table, looked at me, and when the truth dawned on him, I exploded with laughter. He threw his shirt at me and then he disappeared behind the bathroom door. Without hesitation, I flung off my pajamas and slipped his shirt over my head. A frisson of excitement rushed over me, along with his scent.
