Page 14 of Protect My Heart

“This pretend date. It’s run its course, I appreciate you letting me save face or whatever, but now let’s just be done.”

He braces his hands on the frame of my door and leans into me. “There’s nothing fake about any of this.”

I release a tight laugh that comes out sounding more like a wheeze. “You shouldn’t have let Mabel goad you into kissing me if you didn’t want to kiss me.”

“I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“You didn’t have to. That was a kiss you give your grandmother,” I snap. Then I take a deep breath. “Look, Fletch, I get it. You’re a good guy, a nice guy, but you don’t owe me anything. In fact, I’m the one that owes you. For saving me that day and for not telling anyone the truth about it.”

His eyes heat and I swear they turn black. Like a shark’s. One palm reaches to grip my neck.

“You think I don’t want you. That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m just so fucking nice that I asked you out to smooth things over from our awkward first encounter.” He licks his lips and I think I have a tiny orgasm.

How is he this sexy?

“You have no idea that every single night when I close my eyes, I see your gorgeous fucking body. I have to ride my fist until I come all over myself like a goddamn teenager. Is that what you want to hear? Because it’s the fucking truth.”

I swallow and stare up into his face which has somehow lost its boyish charm. Instead, a man, carnal and ravenous looks down at me.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me like you wanted me?” I ask.

“Because I knew once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” Then his mouth crashes into mine.

There’s nothing sweet or tender about this kiss. His tongue plunges inside my mouth, taking, licking, tasting. My panties are on fire and my nipples are about to carve their way free from my bra.

I grip his shoulders and he picks me up so I can wrap myself around him like a sex-crazed koala.

“Fuck, Firecracker. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. Every time I’m near you I have to stand there and pretend that you’re not mine.” He opens my apartment door, then slams it shut.

I pepper kisses all along his throat and holy wow, but he smells delicious. I lick his heated skin and he growls.

“Bedroom.” It’s not a question.

“Down that hallway.” I nuzzle my nose against his skin, then lick him again. “I think I’m addicted to your pheromones.”

“Good.”

When we get to my bedroom, he slowly releases me so that I slide down the front of his body. It’s so sexy I swear we probably look hotter than Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing.

The heat in his gaze feels hot enough to melt the clothes from my body.

“Take off your clothes, Firecracker. Show me those goddamn curves,” he growls.

Whoa. “Where did that dirty mouth come from?”

He arches a brow. “You’re not naked yet.”

I sling off my shirt and kick off my flip flops before moving to the button and zipper on my jeans. “Neither are you, big boy. This time I won’t be the only one on parade.”

He grins then and it’s that same friendly smile I’ve seen him flash around town. But this time I see it, see him for maybe the first time. Yes, he’s polite and gentlemanly, but he’s also a real, flesh and blood man.

He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and shrugs out of it. Of course he’s wearing an undershirt. It’s one of those sleeveless ones that people always called “wife beaters” but obviously these poor unsuspecting undershirts have been given a bad rap. This is like man lingerie.

I mean it helps that he’s built like a Magic Mike headliner. He steps out of his jeans and holy thick thighs.

“Good grief,” I say. “Your body is perfect. Now I don’t want to get naked.”

He laughs. “I’m not perfect.” He pulls off his undershirt and points at his belly button. “I’ve got an outie.”