It was as if he’d morphed into one of those weird creatures that lived at the bottom of the sea and had suddenly been hit with a flash of light. And that light had locked his pupils, cornea, rods, and all the rest of what was responsible for his vision on …
Her breasts. And those nipples.
You would think holding a fifty-pound bulldog would block my view.
“Ahem!”
She shifted the position of the dog, and that was enough to release that Vulcan grip those things had on his eyes.
What are you, twelve years old? You’ve seen nipples before.
He swallowed.
Just not hers. Definitely not hers. I would have remembered.
Fuck,he suddenly thought glumly,now going forward, I’m going to remember.
While her eyes had surprised him, those two ripe cherrystones under that white T-shirt were one hundred percent high-octane Ceci Rivers. They were as brazen and bodacious as she was. Not that her breasts were especially large. But they weren’t exactly small either. He flexed the fingers of his left hand.
I could fit them in my hand. I think. Well, most of them.
Or my mouth. No, not all of them, but those nipples, yes.
Fuck. Forget the damn nipples.
“You’re not going to wear that, are you?” he suddenly blurted out.
She blinked. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re wearing jeans.”
“No. No. Not that. It’s just really cold out,” he said, while placing his hand on the back of his neck, just as he felt beads of sweat turn into rivulets and slide down his back.
“Oh. I’m going to wear a sweater over this and a parka.”
“Oh.” He sighed. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes, good. As in okay, you won’t get frost …” His voice veered off without completing that sentence. The next word out of his mouth was going to bebite. But that got him thinking of those nipples.
“Frost …? What?”
“Whatever. Just it’s cold.”
“Yes, you’ve already said that. What I’d like to know is what are you doing with that?” She pointed at his dog. “You can’t bring a dog into a restaurant.”
“Then it’s good we won’t be going to a restaurant. If you’d like, you can bring him as well,” he said, indicating Boudica. “It is a him, isn’t it?” He tilted his head to get a better look.
“It is.”
He nodded. “I figured as much.”
“Why?”
“I just picture you with a male dog.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Why?”
“I don’t know why.”
