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“You did not.” I sit up with a smile. “You were badass Bobby Kincaid, fighter, sexy, so sweet I’d get a toothache.”
He snorts. “I used to stammer and say all the wrong shit. You had me tied up in knots for the longest time, baby.”
I shake my head with disbelief. I don’t believe him. I don’t see it. All I remember from our time getting to know each other was him being… him.
“Babe?” He waits until my eyes meet his. “Home? Or Australia?”
I sigh with contentment. “Home, I think. We have a lot going on back there, and I kind of miss Jack.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a big head.”
He pulls me close and nibbles on the warm skin behind my ear. “What’s in it for me?”
“What?”
“I mean, if you want me to do you a…favor… You know, not tell Jack, well, what will you do for me in return?”
His eyes dance with mirth until I trail my fingertips along his abs. Digging the nail in and leaving a puckered line in my wake, his playful gaze instantly turns hot.
“Perhaps I could… use my hand?”
“Mmm,” he growls softly.
“Or… my mouth?” I lick my lips and run my tongue along my teeth.
“Mmhmm.” His strong hands grip my hips roughly. “That would be… nice.”
I lower my hand and watch as his skin puckers with goosebumps. His hips jerk up when I move over them and onto his thighs, and lowering my head, I kiss along the path my fingers took.
Two-hundred-something pounds, six and a half feet, world champion fighter, Bobby Kincaid is badass to everyone else in the world, but to me, he’s a slave to my hands and lips. And he’s happy with that arrangement.
Pausing over top of his twitching cock, I smile and absorb the way he pants in anticipation, and with my eyes locked onto his, I slowly lower my mouth and take him into the back of my throat.
