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“You got it.”
“But make sure it’s tomorrow because I’m about to be balls deep in my best impression of a rodeo queen. The Italian Stallion—”
“I’m hanging up now!”
Her laugh was the last thing I heard as I tapped end on the call.
Turning for the door, I stopped mid-step, my eyes meeting my reflection in the glass panes. I did a quick once-over, taking inventory of my current state. My hair was a little askew, pulled up in a messy bun. My legs peeked out from beneath Kline’s Harvard cotton tee. My ass was covered by a pair of white cotton boy shorts. It wasn’t my sexiest of days, but I didn’t look awful. And surprisingly, my lips had gone back to their normal size.
I sniffed the collar of his t-shirt, and despite the clean scent, remnants of his cologne managed to linger on the freshly laundered material. God, he really did smell good. Kline just might have been my very own aphrodisiac.
I wanted him. And I was hell-bent on taking what I wanted.
Walking through the doors, I left any inkling of self-doubt on the terrace, finding him shirtless, standing at the sink of his master bathroom. His perfect ass was clad in boxer briefs and nothing else, wide shoulders on display, muscles stretching as he brushed his teeth. His biceps flexed as he finished up, turning off the sink.
His body was perfect. Defined with just enough bulk. Smooth skin sweetened the deal, leading from his muscular shoulders to his defined pectorals. I wanted to trace the lines with my tongue. He didn’t shave or wax his chest like guys on magazine covers. No, Kline Brooks was a man. A beautiful, sexy man with a natural smattering of dark hair on his chest. His abdomen was defined with ridges and hard lines that led down into a glorious V, and a soft, just barely noticeable trail of hair paved a path from his belly button to territory I’d have had to remove his boxer briefs to see.
I wanted to lick that happy trail, spend some time there, make a fucking day out of it.
My body was getting way too excited over the possibilities.
Cool it, Georgia. Slow your horny roll.
I wanted a re-do of our first kiss, not the beginning of a porno flick.
Cornflower blue eyes, with the tiniest bit of yellow lining the contrasting black pupils, met mine in the mirror. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, moving toward the sink and plucking his just-used toothbrush from the holder. Without hesitation, I made myself at home, putting a glob of toothpaste on the bristles and going to town on cleaning my teeth.
Kline watched with amusement.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked after two circuits on my top teeth.
“Not at all,” he responded, smirking. That perfect ass of his found the edge of the sink as he continued to observe.
“I need a favor,” I stated, turning off the sink and wiping my face with the hand towel.
“Favor?”
“Uh-huh. It’s a mighty big favor, but there’s a possibility it will benefit you greatly.”
“I’m all ears, Benny girl.” He winked, amused with my new nickname. Though I was less impressed with his creativity than he was, I still felt a tingle.
“Do you have an iPod dock anywhere in the apartment?”
His gaze turned intrigued. “In my bedroom, on the dresser beside the terrace doors.”
“Perfect,” I said over my shoulder, walking that direction.
He followed me, sitting on the bed, while I set my phone in the dock and found the perfect re-do song.
The Drifters’ “Some Kind of Wonderful” filled the room.
“I know this wasn’t the song we heard after our dance,” I pointed out, shrugging, “but it’s my favorite ‘Some Kind of Wonderful.’”
“Hmm, I don’t know. The first version seemed pretty good to me.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I can relate to the lyrics.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Is that so?”
He nodded. “I think most men come to a point in their lives where the concept of one right woman above all other things seems logical—warranted, even.”
I swooned. Head, heart, stomach—my entire body was in on it.
“Well, this is my show, so this is our some kind of wonderful for right now.”
Kline grinned.
My bare feet moved across the soft carpet, stopping once my knees tapped his. “Stand up, please.” I gestured with my hand. “I want a re-do. I want to finish what we started, before you tried to kill me with lime juice.” A teasing smirk crested my lips.
“I did not try to kill you,” he said through a chuckle, getting to his feet. “But, I am saying yes to the favor.”
Blue-tinted tenderness gazed down at me, while strong hands slipped under cotton, finding the curve of my hips.
