those muscled arms and rock her back and forth until her luscious breasts spilled out of the flimsy camisole. Then he’d show her exactly what he was capable of.
“Well?” She hefted the bag and tapped her sandaled foot. “We going or what?”
Shit. He was acting like an idiot. An extremely horny idiot. “We’re going.”
His room was three doors down. Same setup as Bobby and Geo. Two double beds, a TV, a cheap-ass rickety table and one chair, also decorated in a blast of burnt orange and olive green.
Equipment covered the dresser. Clothes hung neatly in the closet. Luckily he hadn’t left the stuff from his shaving bag scattered all over the tiny counter in front of the bathroom.
Drake braced himself against the wall while he toed off his boots. Wallet, leather pouch and keys landed on the bed.
Kenna dropped her duffle by the door and flopped on the bed closest to the window. She yawned and flipped back the covers. “I’m wiped.”
“Aren’t you changing into pajamas?” Visions of sexy nightgowns teased him; a frilly baby doll barely covering her gorgeous ass. A black silk nightie highlighting her dangerous curves. Or his personal favorite: nothing but fire flashing in her eyes and a “do-me-big-daddy” smile.
“No. I don’t wear paj—”
“Even better. That way I know you won’t be sneaking out.”
She propped herself on her elbow and scowled at him. “Here’s where you threaten to tie me to the bed.”
Drake grinned. “Only if you ask me real nice.” He yanked his T-shirt over his head and pitched it toward the chair.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
The barb didn’t hold any sting when Drake noticed her eyes were glued to his chest. Hmm. No matter what her smart mouth said, her body didn’t lie. Seemed she was the one having a hard time catching her breath.
He stretched, flexing the muscles in his biceps and contracting his abs. At the stunned, hungry look on her face he decided the hours spent in the gym were well worth it.
“What are you doing?” she croaked.
“Getting ready for bed.”
Drake sighed, dropping his hands to his waistband. His fingers fiddled with the top button.
Then he unbuckled his belt.
Her gaze zoomed to his fly as he oh-so-slowly lowered the zipper. Damn if his cock didn’t appreciate her rapt attention and offer an enthusiastic, hopeful salute.
She swallowed hard as he began to slide the jeans down his hips, inching them over his muscular thighs and past his knees.
“Enjoying the show?”
“God, yes,” she responded eagerly before she caught herself. A faint blush stole across her cheeks, highlighting her freckles. She abruptly turned on her side.
Drake shucked his jeans completely off and stood there, feeling like an idiot with a hard-on pressing out of the top of his black boxers. “What? No goodnight kiss?”
“You can kiss my ass,” she retorted.
“Careful, hot stuff. I might consider that an invitation.”
“Go to sleep, perv. On your own side of the room in your own bed.”
He laughed softly. “Goodnight, Kenna. Sweet dreams.”
Kenna slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep. Drake would probably start snoring any minute. Wouldn’t that blow her fantasy of him straight to hell?
Oh yeah, he was man enough to fill a hundred fantasies.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. Her brain insisted on reliving his sexy, impromptu strip tease. Over and over again until she’d memorized every damn detail.
His body boggled her mind. Long, lean and hard, muscled in all the right places—he definitely looked long and hard where it counted. Sweat beaded on her brow thinking about touching and tasting that tanned golden skin and corded muscles. Sifting her fingers through his unruly black hair. Taking his big cock in her hands. In her body. In her mouth. She suppressed a moan, but her body launched a rush of moisture south anyway.
Hell. She’d never get to sleep now.
A deep masculine grunt. Followed by a heavy sigh. The bed
“Well?” She hefted the bag and tapped her sandaled foot. “We going or what?”
Shit. He was acting like an idiot. An extremely horny idiot. “We’re going.”
His room was three doors down. Same setup as Bobby and Geo. Two double beds, a TV, a cheap-ass rickety table and one chair, also decorated in a blast of burnt orange and olive green.
Equipment covered the dresser. Clothes hung neatly in the closet. Luckily he hadn’t left the stuff from his shaving bag scattered all over the tiny counter in front of the bathroom.
Drake braced himself against the wall while he toed off his boots. Wallet, leather pouch and keys landed on the bed.
Kenna dropped her duffle by the door and flopped on the bed closest to the window. She yawned and flipped back the covers. “I’m wiped.”
“Aren’t you changing into pajamas?” Visions of sexy nightgowns teased him; a frilly baby doll barely covering her gorgeous ass. A black silk nightie highlighting her dangerous curves. Or his personal favorite: nothing but fire flashing in her eyes and a “do-me-big-daddy” smile.
“No. I don’t wear paj—”
“Even better. That way I know you won’t be sneaking out.”
She propped herself on her elbow and scowled at him. “Here’s where you threaten to tie me to the bed.”
Drake grinned. “Only if you ask me real nice.” He yanked his T-shirt over his head and pitched it toward the chair.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
The barb didn’t hold any sting when Drake noticed her eyes were glued to his chest. Hmm. No matter what her smart mouth said, her body didn’t lie. Seemed she was the one having a hard time catching her breath.
He stretched, flexing the muscles in his biceps and contracting his abs. At the stunned, hungry look on her face he decided the hours spent in the gym were well worth it.
“What are you doing?” she croaked.
“Getting ready for bed.”
Drake sighed, dropping his hands to his waistband. His fingers fiddled with the top button.
Then he unbuckled his belt.
Her gaze zoomed to his fly as he oh-so-slowly lowered the zipper. Damn if his cock didn’t appreciate her rapt attention and offer an enthusiastic, hopeful salute.
She swallowed hard as he began to slide the jeans down his hips, inching them over his muscular thighs and past his knees.
“Enjoying the show?”
“God, yes,” she responded eagerly before she caught herself. A faint blush stole across her cheeks, highlighting her freckles. She abruptly turned on her side.
Drake shucked his jeans completely off and stood there, feeling like an idiot with a hard-on pressing out of the top of his black boxers. “What? No goodnight kiss?”
“You can kiss my ass,” she retorted.
“Careful, hot stuff. I might consider that an invitation.”
“Go to sleep, perv. On your own side of the room in your own bed.”
He laughed softly. “Goodnight, Kenna. Sweet dreams.”
Kenna slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep. Drake would probably start snoring any minute. Wouldn’t that blow her fantasy of him straight to hell?
Oh yeah, he was man enough to fill a hundred fantasies.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. Her brain insisted on reliving his sexy, impromptu strip tease. Over and over again until she’d memorized every damn detail.
His body boggled her mind. Long, lean and hard, muscled in all the right places—he definitely looked long and hard where it counted. Sweat beaded on her brow thinking about touching and tasting that tanned golden skin and corded muscles. Sifting her fingers through his unruly black hair. Taking his big cock in her hands. In her body. In her mouth. She suppressed a moan, but her body launched a rush of moisture south anyway.
Hell. She’d never get to sleep now.
A deep masculine grunt. Followed by a heavy sigh. The bed
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