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“Tall woman, thick thighs.”
“Are you putting out an ad?” he joked. “If so, now I know where Callum learned his sales game.”
A gorgeous shade of crimson bloomed on her cheeks, followed by a smile and nod. A step back, broke the connection and they headed into the kitchen.
Standing at the sink, Amber ran it full of wash water.
As bubbles covered the dirty dishes, Mountain slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair.
Amber’s eyes widened, she nibbled on her bottom lip then quickly turned when her eyes had made their way up his body to his own. “Here, I thought your coat was physically attached to your body,” she said slipping the silverware into the wash water.
“I do feel rather naked right now,” he said, pushing up the sleeves of the waffle Henley he’d wore as a second skin. “Our coats are important, well the cut on the back.”
“A patch right?” she questioned.
“Yeah, that’s what we call it.”
“They’re the same but different, your coats.” She smiled and grabbed a dish towel.
He waited for her to wash a dish.
Once washed she passed it to him to rinse and dried off.
“I’ll just put the clean dishes on the table and I’ll help you put them away.”
“That will work. Thank you.” Amber washed another dish then handed it to him.
They worked for a while in silence and it was nice. Their bodies close enough at times, he didn’t know if it was the heat around her body melding with his own or if the brush of her hip to his thigh was real. Mountain couldn’t believe what she was doing to him. Domestication had been long ago abandoned by him. Once he left Connecticut, he’d never imagined himself in this position. Life choices had been made and his was to be a die-hard biker, not a husband. Claim a woman at some point, but one like Topaz or Free or even Lil’ Bit. A woman with an edge to her curves.
Drying the last dish, he tossed towel on the counter and added the skillet to the pile on the table.
A crack broke through the silence followed by a sting to his left ass cheek.
Turning found Amber with a satisfied smile on her lips and the towel in her hands. “Ouch woman. What was that for?”
“You don’t just toss a towel on the counter when you’re done,” she said, shaking out the fabric. “It needs to dry and well I just felt like doing it, that’s all. With a target hanging out in my kitchen, what did you expect?”
He quickly snatched the towel away from her.
Her sea blue eyes widened in understanding of the war she’d started. Tall woman, thick thighs and a very nice target on the backside. With a jerk, she took off toward the living room a squeal trailing behind her and landed on the couch, covering her ass with her hands. “Don’t Mountain, come on.”
“Pay backs are a bitch woman. Come on let me just …” He swung the towel in circles until it was a twisted tight then he flipped his wrist and let it crack.
The sound echoing the in the room and making her eyes widen further.
“Not fair, I didn’t get a practice crack!” She laughed holding one of her hands out. “That’s gonna hurt.”
“Little spankin’ never hurt anyone,” he said, spinning the towel until it was taut and tight in is hand. “It can even be a fun.”
Amber leaned a little to her left, her ass cheek tempting him more in a pair of jeans than any of the women on a pole at the Roadside. A whip of his wrist he let the towel fly sure of his aim, but her fear took over and she sat back at the last second. The crack and snap making contact with her hip right where the hem of her shirt had risen and hit the exposed flesh. Her skin, smooth and alabaster instantly flushed bright pink.
“Mountain. Now you’ll pay.”
“You moved.” He laughed.
She chose her next weapon, a pillow. Launching off the couch, the smack across his face, was more of athwackand bounce off.
“A pillow, really woman?”
