Page 74 of Lowering His Guard

She slaps her hand on the kitchen counter. “You can put Plank here.”

I scowl at her kitchen. It’s tiny. “How do you cook in here?”

“One diced vegetable at a time,” she deadpans.

“I’m serious. You have one stove top burner and no oven or microwave.”

“Ah, but I do.” She opens a drawer and motions to the smallest microwave I’ve ever seen.

“It’s barely large enough for a bowl of oatmeal. Are you eating enough?”

“Yes, Dad. I’m eating enough. Probably too much. I eat at Wok the Plank a lot. I work there several nights a week. My parents need the help, and I get paid in yummy food.”

My stomach growls at the reminder of her parents’ restaurant.

“Uh oh. Is the alien getting restless? I have some leftovers here. Or I can grab some food from the restaurant. It’s two blocks away.”

“I’m not hungry.” At least not for food.

But what I’m hungry for isn’t on the menu. I retreat as far away from May as I can in the small space.

“I’ve got you. I don’t want the alien to get out of control.” She marches toward me and pats my stomach. I wince. Her eyes sharpen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Naturally, she doesn’t listen. She lifts up my t-shirt and her eyes widen when she notices the bruises.

“Smoking smugglers. Did I do this? Get your shirt off. Do you have any cuts or bruises?”

She glides her hands along my ribs as she checks for more injuries. I moan at the feel of her soft hands on my skin. And my cock twitches.

Her eyes fill with pain. “I’m hurting you?”

I grasp her wrists to stop her from retreating. “You’re not hurting me.”

“But…” She trails off when her gaze drops to my crotch and she notices the bulge there. She lifts her head and our gazes clash. Her eyes are bright with passion. She licks her lips and I stop fighting my desire for her.

“Damnit,” I grumble as I meld my mouth to hers. She gasps and I plunge my tongue inside. She tastes of bubble gum and sweet honey. I want more.

I palm her neck and tilt her head to allow me to dive in deeper. She doesn’t fight me. She wraps her arms around me and digs her nails into my back. I grunt and she tears away from me.

“I’m hurting you.” She wrings her hands. “I’m sorry. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“You’re not hurting me.” Although my cock disagrees.

“But the bruises.”

“They’re from practice.”

“From practice? What happened?”

“Nothing happened except the usual grueling practice of being a fullback.”

“You get hurt this way every time you play?”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t like it. There should be rules against you getting hurt playing football. Who do I call to get this arranged?”