Page 10 of Good Boy

And then shriek when I find Blake Riley standing on the other side. Stark naked.

“Arrrh!” he says, clapping those big paws over his ears. “My head.”

I want to make a witty retort. Like maybe My eyes! But it doesn’t work, because my tongue is suddenly three sizes too big as I stare at the glory of Blake Riley in the buff. His shoulders are like well-muscled mountains, his pecs like perfect, sculpted dunes. I want to explore them with my tongue.

Actually, I’m pretty sure I did once.

“Gotta use your bathroom, honey. Pick that tongue up off the floor and let me pass?”

This remark snaps me back to consciousness. “Did you ever hear of clothes?”

“You’ve seen it all before.” He places a hand on my upper arm and nudges me aside. “Really, honey, I know you’re enjoying the view, but I’ve gotta make the bladder gladder.”

I’m no longer in control of my eyes though, because they follow his hand down to where he wraps it around his giant…

Gah!

Scurrying into my bedroom, I yank my bathrobe off its hook and hastily tie it on. With a double knot. Just in case.

“Why were you in my bed?” I grumble at the bathroom door.

“Couch was too small,” he calls back.

“That doesn’t give you permission to jump into bed with me!”

“Actually, you invited me yourself. The second time I got up to take a whiz. You asked me why I couldn’t sleep, and I told you my spine was curled up like an anaconda…”

Uh oh. This is starting to sound familiar.

“You mumbled something about my anaconda, and then suggested that I sleep in your bed. And you’re awful cuddly, J-Babe. Like sleeping with an octopus.”

Ugh. Betrayed by my subconscious.

Grabbing my brush, I begin raking my hair into shape. I have to dry it, style it, put on makeup, get dressed, meet the caterers, see to the cake. And a hundred other things.

I pick up the hair dryer just as a warm, solid body sidles up behind me. “You know,” a low voice drawls as a warm hand squeezes my shoulder, “there’s time to feed the kitty before we get dressed for the big day.”

He’s so near that parts of me tingle even in my outrage. “Blake,” I say, my voice almost a whisper.

“Yes,” he breathes beside my ear.

“I don’t have a cat.”

He lets out a sexy rumble, his thumb trailing down my arm. And it’s then that I realize feed the kitty means…

“We aren’t feeding the kitty or hiding the salami or anything else you can think of to call it. We’re just not. There will be no repeats this weekend.”

He reaches beneath my wet hair and cups the back of my head, his long fingers trailing across my skull. Goose bumps break out all over my body. “Never say never, J-Babe.”

It’s a good thing my back is to him, because I can’t control my shudder of longing as his fingers leave my skin. “Don’t you have to go meet your date?” I remind the both of us.

“I’ll get her right before the wedding. I thought I’d help you with errands first.”

“Seriously?” This gets my attention. I spin around because I have to know if he’s joking. I need all the help I can get.

“Sure. I have a rental car, and I’m no longer too drunk to drive it. We’ll have to swing by the bar where I left it last night. You probably have errands that need running last minute, right?”

Only a million. My brain goes racing down the list. “Balloons,” I say quickly. “I’ve ordered four dozen of them for eleven o’clock so that they’ll stay fully inflated all evening.” All Blake has to do is shove them in his car and drive away. He couldn’t ruin it if he tried. “And Grandma Canning needs a lift from the airport.”

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