When she pressed a little harder, he bit off a groan.
He stared at her downturned head. “I want you, Tess. Will you please let me take off the rest of your clothes so I can show you how much?”
After a moment, she gave a little nod. “Yeah. But first, let’s get that big body of yours bare. I’ve seen you without your shirt, but never without those shorts. I have a strong suspicion your ass will ruin me for all other men’s posteriors, forever and ever.”
Her chin tipped up, and she was smiling at him again, her fingers playing at his waistband. All doubts evidently banished once more, at least for the moment.
He nuzzled his nose against hers. “One can only hope.”
She tugged his shorts and boxer-briefs down in one quick movement, and he stepped out of them. His erection hot against his stomach, he turned in a circle for her perusal.
Never, not once in his life, had he appreciated his training so much. If all those burpees and lunges and sprints and lifts meant Tess Dunn got that dazed look on her sweet face and kept staring at his ass with the sort of longing usually reserved for, say, the crown jewels, he’d do thousands more of them. Millions.
“You have that line,” she whispered. “I didn’t know that was possible in real life.”
He frowned, confused. “What line?”
“I mean, your cock is impressive too, which I kind of expected. But this…” She touched a spot above his hip, then traced a path down and to the center, just short of where his dick was eager to meet her touch. “Wow.”
“That?” Her finger lingered, and he attempted to keep breathing. “My physio called it the iliac furrow.”
“And those dimples on your ass…” She caressed a spot on each cheek. “I want to bite them later. Is that okay?”
Red alert. Time to deploy baseball statistics. Like numbers of home runs or strikeouts or touchdowns or field goals or—
Wait, he didn’t know any baseball statistics. He didn’t evenwatchbaseball.
Shit.
“Uh…” Deep breaths. Those might work. “Yeah. Please.”
“Really?” Her face brightened to near-incandescence. “In that case, hurry up. Let’s get me naked.”
Thank Christ.
Before anything could delay him further, he yanked those damn leggings down as she obligingly lifted each foot in turn. Within the next heartbeat, he’d whipped off her panties too.
Someday, he’d take his time appreciating the sight of her in her underwear, but not tonight. Not while he was awash with this sort of desperation.
He clambered to his feet, but didn’t let himself stare until he’d reached into the shower and turned on the water. Then, as it began to heat, he clasped her upper arms and gave a gentle squeeze. “Hold still, älskling. I want to take a good look at you.”
Her body was lush and round, not a straight line to be seen. He skimmed a palm over the curve of her belly, the swell of her hip, the abundance of her dimpled ass.
He understood her desire to bite, in a way he hadn’t mere moments ago. More than that, though, he wanted to sink into her and never emerge.
The shower was steaming now. So was he.
He raised his gaze to hers, and she wasn’t quite smiling. But her eyes were soft and warm and direct. Not shy or, God forbid, ashamed.
“Let’s get in the shower.” He opened the door, stroking a hand down her bare back as he ushered her inside. “If it’s too hot or too cold for you, just turn the handle.”
He squeezed in beside her, and they stood naked, only a bare centimeter away from one another. The water streamed over her shoulders and down the extravagant arcs of her body, the rivulets gleaming in the light overhead. Her hair turned inky beneath the flood, a rosy flush blooming on her pale skin at the heat of the spray.
“I love how you have dimples everywhere. Here.” She rose up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to both his cheeks. “Your butt, of course. Even your knees, kind of.”
He glanced down. “Those are just my kneecaps. They’re knobby.”
“They’re perfect, so hush.” She shook a disapproving finger at him. When he caught it in his mouth, her breathing hitched. “None of that until we’re clean, mister.”
