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His eyes flared, and then he was threading both of his hands behind his head, showing off a couple of seriously sexy biceps. And holy wow, were his shoulders amazing.
He had rib muscles. Abs. Hip dips.
“How much do you work out again?” I asked.
“Too much,” he admitted. “I’m always freakin’ tired.”
I slowly pulled the sheet off his body, letting it pool at his feet, and studied him.
Thick thighs. Muscular calves. Impressive ankles.
Who the hell found ankles impressive?
Me, that was who.
But I’d only ever noticed Keene’s ankles.
There was just something about them that looked so strong.
His cock twitched, bringing my gaze back to his mid-section.
I reached out and ran my finger down one hip dip.
One Adonis Belt, like the romance novels I liked to read called them. The ‘V’ was another great term.
I’d never seen a man in real life have them.
Yet, here Keene was, giving me a gift I never knew I wanted.
I mean, logically, probably ninety percent of the female population of the planet would love to have a man who looked like a god among mortals. But let’s be honest, that just wasn’t something most men could maintain.
But it was more than obvious that Keene could maintain it.
Even with him eating like he did, which seemed hilarious to me.
I wasn’t the smallest girl in the world. I had hips, no tits, and ass. My thighs rubbed, and I had to wear Chub Rub shorts if I was going to walk farther than to my car and back. I had a double chin when I looked down at my phone screen. And honestly, my lack of coordination made it nearly impossible to work out because I’d wind up in the hospital with a broken ankle if I did.
“What are you thinking about over there, gorgeous?” Keene asked, reaching for me with long, strong fingers. “You have a frown on your face.”
I pulled away before he could get me, then grinned. “I was thinking about how hard you look next to my softness.”
He let his eyes run down the length of my body.
I was wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else.
Last night he hadn’t asked about what I had on underneath, and I hadn’t volunteered the information, but now, I was definitely giving him a little bit of a show.
There was no way he couldn’t see the bareness of my ass with the way I was sitting next to him.
“I like your softness,” he said, eyes gleaming as he stopped at my unbound breasts under his t-shirt.
I didn’t have much in the boob department. Barely a B cup on a good day. But what I did have were fantastic genes that meant my boobs were perky. My nipples were tight and small.
Let’s just say he could clearly make out my areolas through the white shirt he’d let me borrow.
And he liked what he was seeing.
The way his eyes were lit with desire. The way his cock was pulsing underneath his boxer briefs. The way he kept clenching and unclenching his hands, letting me know that he wanted to reach for me but was stopping himself.
