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“Can’t you be serious?”
“That’s like asking a prized stallion to only breed one mare.”
My brow puckers while trying to compute how that’s related to what I said. “What’s with all the horse analogies?”
“I’m in a very studly mood thanks to a certain filly stroking my ego.” He neighs to accentuate the point, like the ridiculous goof he is.
“Yet you were trying to talk me out of it two minutes ago.”
The sinking sun glints across his roguish features. “Changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“This way I get to have sex with you. I’ve been fucking you for months in my imagination. Might as well add some real footage to the spank bank.”
Warmth floods me at the image of him alone in bed with just the memory of us to keep him company. That heat spreads to sizzle between us, a fire ready to blaze. I’m prepared to burn with this man. Even if I incinerate our friendship in the process.
I manage to unfurl my tongue from the jumble he’s tying me in. “Is that a yes?”
Rather than provide a verbal response, his hand at my waist drifts under my shirt. His movement stalls when he realizes there’s no direct contact with my skin. He lifts the hem to inspect the nylon layer stretched over my midsection.
Garrett pinches a section of the stretchy material. “What’s this?”
I glance at the garment flattening my belly. “Shapewear.”
“What’s it for?” He glares at the object in mention like it’s personally offended him.
Other than the freedom to take a full breath without worrying about my pooch?
“Smooths out my rolls and bumps.” I drift a palm down my abdomen for emphasis.
His gaze searches mine while his fingers wander higher to yank at the elastic band. “I’m a fan of your rolls and bumps.”
My pulse sprints in a competitive fifty-yard dash. “That makes one of us.”
Once again, I don’t need a man to validate how I feel about my body, but the compliment is a confidence booster. The appearance of a slimmer waistline is too.
Garrett’s focus dips to the fabric blocking his path. “Looks like a torture device, especially in the heat. Your natural figure is meant to be flaunted. It’s a thing of beauty and seduction.”
“Plus-size isn’t the model standard,” I argue.
“Fuck that. It damn well should be. I love that you’re generous with the curves.”
“Ah, right. You pride yourself on being an equal opportunityloverforallthe ladies.” The significance I slide onto those words isn’t an accident.
“In that case, you’ll recall that twigs aren’t my favorite either. It’s the person, not the package.” He pats my butt like we’re celebrating a touchdown.
“Well, this package is enhanced by a spandex exterior.” I offer a shimmy to show the tummy support in motion.
His frown scolds me. I expect him to make another swoon-worthy comment that will leave me in a puddle. Instead, he allows a lull to drop in like an uninvited guest. His eyes lift to study my expression, which I try to force into neutral.
Distant voices remind me that we’re in a public place. People could stumble upon us at any moment. That signal has me straightening my shirt before I duck under the cage of his arms. A breeze rushes across the space separating us. That slight chill tames my fiendish arousal. My impulsive decision has officially caught up to me.
“We should go,” I blurt.
His brows wing upward at my abrupt change in mood. “Where?
I peek straight ahead where the seemingly unsolvable maze spans in every direction. “It’s your choice. You won.”
