Page 117 of The Gaybor War

His mouth twitches. Then his gaze drops lower again, heated enough to make my pulse stutter.

"Oh," I whisper. "That look means trouble."

"You’re trouble."

"True, but right now I’m also trapped in pleather."

"Should I grease you up with lube?"

I stare at him, genuinely stunned. "Jesus Christ. Who are you?"

"That bad?"

"No, that was alarmingly hot." I shove at his shoulder weakly. "You can’t just spring competent dirty talk on me without warning."

A laugh rumbles out of him, low and rough, and before I can recover, he kisses me again—harder this time, one hand sliding my shirt from my shoulders while the other finally helps drag the stupid leather pants farther down my hips.

"Better?" he murmurs against my mouth.

"So much." I breathe a sigh of relief. "I may write you a thank-you note."

Then Carter ruins me a little by looking at me as if I’m something precious instead of ridiculous. It’s honestly very annoying of him.

His hands settle at my waist as he finally wrestles the pants the rest of the way down my hips. Cool air hits my skin, immediately followed by the drag of his palms over my thighs. I suck in a breath.

"There. Crisis resolved."

"You’re a hero."

"I know."

The smugness should be unattractive. Unfortunately, it’s doing things to me.

I hook my fingers into the front of his pirate shirt and tug him closer again, kissing him before he can say something unbearably confident. He kisses me back, one hand sliding up into my hair while the other anchors at my hip. The room feels smaller, hotter somehow, crowded with tangled limbs and half-undone costumes and tension that’s finally stopped pretending to be anything else.

Carter pulls back just enough to look at me, breathing a bit heavier than before. "You’re beautiful."

His voice is so sincere that tears sting my eyes. I blink back the betrayal of emotion and focus on his talented mouth, his tight pecs, and his mussed hair. Damn, I need this man inside of me like yesterday.

"Grab the lube from my shaving kit in the bathroom."

Carter is off the bed before I even finish the sentence, moving with the kind of focused determination usually reserved for emergency situations and Black Friday sales.

I blink after him. "Well, that’s encouraging."

Cabinets open in the bathroom with increasing urgency. He reappears a second later holding up three tubes triumphantly.

"Bubblegum, Piña Colada, or Strawberry Daiquiri?"

The fact that he’s asking this with complete sincerity nearly takes me out.

"Strawberry."

"Excellent choice."

He climbs back onto the bed, pirate shirt half open, pants lost somewhere, and hair wrecked as he settles between my knees. Then his mouth curves slightly. "For the record, if this strawberry stuff stains the sheets, I’m blaming you."

"That feels unfair considering you sprinted for it like an Olympic event."