“You’re really sore.”
“I really am. That’s what I get for hiring my sister as my coach. Fucking steps leading up to the platform today just about killed me, especially after spending an hour in the weight room.”
“Sounds treacherous.”
“It was.” Looking around, I say, “Fuck it’s hot.” Without even thinking, I grab the back of my shirt and pull it over my head, exposing my heated skin. My shorts sit low on my hips thanks to my wallet, exposing the waistline of my underwear. I watch as her heated gaze glances over my body. I don’t say a word, I just let her take me all in.
Stare all you want, baby. All I ask is you commit it to memory.Or better yet, get greedy with those hands of yours.
Carefully, she licks her lips as she stares at my abs, her eyes trained on the divots. Well, fuck, the sore muscles are all worth it now.
Stealing her words, I say, “Hey, baby, my eyes are up here.”
Immediately her face flushes as her gaze snaps up to mine. She has no words, nothing to cover up her blatant staring. I’m about to tease her when I hear a familiar trickle of a bell sounding through the salty air.
My ears perk up, my stomach growls, and my body turns to see a familiar childhood icon: the ice cream man.
With a sultry, yet mischievous smile, I say, “Let’s ditch this workout and get some ice cream.”
There is indecision in her eyes. Looking out to the ocean, I can see her loyalty to the workout she had planned. My hope for an ice cream with this girl falls. She’s still guarded, still keeping herself at a distance despite everything I’m doing.
I’m just about to truck it home when she says, “Okay, but you’re buying.”
Well, shit. I want to give my dick a high five I’m so damn happy. I did not see that coming. I saw the exact opposite actually, but hell if I’ll say anything.
Fucking ecstatic, we walk toward the ice cream truck and ask, “It was the no shirt that swayed your vote, wasn’t it?”
Looking me up and down, she smirks. “The no shirt might have had something to do with it.” Fuck me, she just made my day so much better. She must sense I’m about to make a huge deal about her little confession because she points her pink painted finger nail at me and says, “Make some kind of stupid joke and I will be sprinting down this beach before your tired and old ass can catch up to me.”
“Old?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “’I’m not old.”
“You’re not young.”
“To hell I’m not. I’m twenty-eight. I’m still two years from entering my thirties.”
“You’re practically thirty,” she jokes, a brilliant smile on her face. Shit, if she smiles like that while poking fun at me, I’ll let her tease me all she wants.
“And what about you, smart-ass. How old are you?” I nod at her and watch her eyes take a quick glance at my chest again.
Note to self: never wear a shirt around Melony. She seems to be less ornery.
“None of your business.” She’s defensive and walks a little faster than me, causing me to laugh out loud, then painfully jog to catch up to her where I slip my hand into hers. I hold my breath, wondering if she’s going to pull away but all she does is look down at our hands for a brief second, as if she’s in awe.
Fucking point for me.
“Come on, pumpkin, tell Big Daddy your age.”
“Why do you insist on calling yourself that name?”
I shrug. “Why not? But don’t change the subject. What’s your age? You’re older than me, aren’t you? Just say it, you’re older. It’s okay, sparkle nips, Big Daddy likes cougars.”
“Big Daddy is going to get punched in the nuts if he calls me a cougar.”
“First, thank you for acknowledging my name. Second, you are a cougar.” I say the last part with too much excitement, drawing the attention from the people around us, causing Melony to detach herself from me.
Damn it.
She can’t get away that fast though, so instead of holding her hand, I wrap my bare chest and arms around her body, encasing her just right so she’s forced to look up me.
