I laugh, loving the sound of what he’s saying.
“Sooooo…Any interest in taking a closer look at the cocky underwear I’m wearing?” He winks. “I wore them especially for you.”
I slide my hand from around his back, down his abdominals, to the waistband of his briefs. I hook a finger into the material and pull it away from his body before letting it snap back into place.
“Meh.” I shrug. “Not really.”
His brows skyrocket. “Well, get interested. These just so happen to be the only briefs you’ll be getting up close and personal with for the foreseeable future.”
I smile sweetly. “Is that a promise?”
“Damn right it is,” he snorts, sounding all kinds of cocky. “What I’m packing is more like a ten-inch threat.”
I’m not going to admit it to him, but Carter Prescott has every reason to be arrogant regarding what those roosters are hiding.
“Please…” I chortle and roll my eyes.
Before I can blink, he hoists me over his shoulder until I’m hanging upside down, staring at his perfect backside. “Carter!” I squeal. “What are you—”
His wide palm comes down across my bottom with a crack and I yelp. The cry of surprise turns into a muffled groan as he squeezes my cheek. Heat flares to life and floods my panties.
“I hope you’re going to make good on that promise,” I say breathlessly.
He massages the offended area and I squirm with need.
“Baby,” he growls, “you know I am. All night long, if need be.”
With that, he takes us to the bedroom and makes good on his promise.
And you know what?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thank God for cocky men who know how to use what’s hiding beneath their roosters.