“What do you do? I mean other than Striking Back?”
“I teach Mixed Martial Arts a couple days a week.”
That explains that body. All those muscles, soft-hearted, and he can fight. I feel my panties trying to pull themselves down. “Did you ever fight professionally?”
He looks at me like I’m trying to trick him. “Are you serious?”
“Sorry, I just thought if you taught, maybe you used to fight.”
“I did. I retired a few years ago. Now I teach, help train the next generation of fighters,” he replies, pulling into a circular driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac. A large two story brick home looms large in the dark.
“I can actually see stars out here,” I remark with a grin as he leads me to his front door.
“I like being outside the city, away from all the noise and pollution.”
“Me, too. I love the country.”
“Make yourself at home,” he says, leading me into his living room. “I’ll start a fire.”
I take a seat on his long black sectional couch, and my eyes don’t leave his body as he squats to arrange the logs in the fireplace. His shirt rides up, showing a bare strip of skin above his jeans, and I wonder if he’s a boxer or briefs man. If it’s boxer briefs, I’m going to lose it. After lighting the fire, he heads toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water, please.”
When he returns, he hands me a bottle of water and places another on the coffee table. ‘So, you like the outdoors? Do you like to camp?”
“Love it. I just got back from a camping trip with the kids from BTC. Fishing, swimming in the lake, roasting marshmallows. We had a blast.”
“A girl after my own heart,” he says with a grin. That’s not what I’m after tonight. Being this close to him, I can barely control the urge to rip his clothes off and lick those bulging muscles. “Tell me you made smores.”
“Huh?” Shit. I was staring at his ass instead of listening.
He sits on the edge of the couch and reaches to brush a strand of hair off my cheek. “You were checking me out. Are you happy with what you see?” His deep voice is teasing.
“Not too shabby.”
“Well, if you can ignore my shabby ass a moment, I asked if you had smores on your last camping trip.”
Pull it together, Everly! I’m making a fool of myself drooling over him. I can’t explain it. I mean, he’s sexy, but it’s more than that. I justwant him. “Nope. Forgot the graham crackers, and I really wanted to try them.”
“You’ve never had smores?” When I shake my head, he abruptly rises, jogs to the kitchen, and returns with a long wooden skewer, a bag of marshmallows, a bag of mini Hershey bars, and a stack of graham crackers. “We’re correcting this travesty right now.”
“Well, aren’t you the boy scout?”
“Always prepared,” he agrees, tugging me to sit beside him on the floor. He impales a marshmallow and hands me the skewer. Pressing his body close to mine, he says, “The trick is to keep it in the heat, not the flame.”
His warm hand lands over mine on the skewer and positions the marshmallow where he wants it. I really hope he doesn’t see the goose bumps running up my arm. The guy just touched my hand and I’m losing it. We watch until the marshmallow turns a golden brown, and he pulls it from the firebefore handing me two graham crackers topped with chocolate. I squeeze the marshmallow between the crackers and pull it off the skewer.
When I offer it to him first, he takes the dripping treat and holds it to my lips, watching as I take a bite and lick the gooey marshmallow from the corner of my mouth.
“Good?”
“Delicious. Kind of messy.” My hand is caught halfway to my face when I try to wipe a drip of chocolate from my bottom lip. My gaze meets his a split second before his tongue flutters across my lip, licking away the chocolate. Shit. Did I just moan? Seriously? That was so hot.
“Evie,” he breathes. “I can’t wait another second to have you.” Before I can think of a response, his lips are on mine and any chance at cognizant thought is long gone. His kiss is different this time. Possessive and insistent. He's dominating my mouth and I’m loving every second.
I feel his smile when I slide my hands beneath his shirt, my fingers tracing the hard lines of his stomach muscles. I want to lick them.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers, running his hand up and down my spine before unfastening my bra. “And you smell amazing.” I tug his shirt off, and he returns the favor, letting my bra fall off my chest to the floor. “So beautiful.” He’s looking at my B-cups like he’s hit the lottery.
