Page 10 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“You’re about to make a very big mistake,” he warns.

“What is it they say about big mistakes? That they come with big rewards?”

“That’s risks, not mistakes.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

“I like the way you think.” He takes a step toward me. “And you have no false impressions over what this would be? Because the only reward you’ll be getting tonight will be my big cock.”

I giggle. But secretly, I’m flushing with anticipation.

“I’m a grown woman, Lucas. I’m allowed to have a one-night stand. It doesn’t make either of us bad people, you know.”

He inches closer, leans in, and whispers in my ear, “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Part of me is surprised to hear him say it. He’s the clean-cut businessman and I’m the eccentric shop owner. We’re complete opposites in every way. I’m sure he’s just saying it in the heat of the moment.

“I had a huge crush on you in high school,” he adds.

Remembering what he said at the bowling alley, I tamp down the pheromones for a second. Apparently my curiosity is stronger than my libido. “So let’s get back to that. What did you say about my dad catching you, um…” I shift awkwardly.

“Choking the chicken? Beatin’ the meat?”

My cheeks heat. “Yeah, that.”

He runs a finger up and down my arm, sending electric impulses straight to my core. “It was that time I went to the beach with your family, right before you went away to college. Jesus, you wore that red bikini. I was watching you from the bathroom window and, well, I was fourteen, I had a huge boner, and you had curves into next week. So I started going to town when the door swings open and—”

My hand flies to my mouth. “My dad walked in on you?”

He presses into me, making sure I can feel his erection. “Are we going to waste this talking about your dad, or are we going to do something about it?”

I take his hand and pull him to my bedroom, shocked by the bold move. It’s quite uncharacteristic of me. “Option number two,” I say, throwing him a sultry look over my shoulder.

I don’t turn on the bedroom light. Through the years, since David anyway, I’ve become more and more secure about my plus-size body. But having that security doesn’t mean I want to see myself jiggle around while a gorgeous guy rides me.

It doesn’t occur to me until I’m lying down and he’s peeling off my skirt that we haven’t even kissed. I suppose maybe that’s typical of a one-nighter. I try to think back to the only other one I’ve ever had. The one with Tag Calloway. Yes, he’s now my best friend’s husband, but this was way back when he was a player. I think he may have even slept with me on a dare. I push that thought away as I try to remember if Tag and I kissed. I can’t recall, so maybe we didn’t. And if we did, it wasn’t memorable.

Through the dim light coming in from the living room, Lucas stares at my brightly colored tights. “Your legs look like barber-shop poles.”

“Your shirt makes you look like a banker,” I quip.

He chuckles and unbuttons it, tossing it to the side. “Do I look like a banker now?”

I almost want the lights to be on, because if he looks this way in the dark, I can’t imagine what his sculpted abs would do to me in the light of day. I reach out and run a hand over his taut tummy. “No. Definitely not.”

He skims a hand along my outer thigh. “Then do you mind if I unwrapmypresent?”

“But it’s notyourbirthday.”

“It’s not yours anymore either.”

I scoot up on the bed and poke my toes into his ribs. “Unwrap away.”

He crawls up my body, hovers over me, then lowers his head until his lips are just above mine. “Happy birthday to me,” he says, right before his mouth devours mine.

His lips are just like the rest of his body. Strong. Firm. Sexy. And oh, so demanding. They part slowly, allowing my tongue to slip inside, and the kiss becomes so much more than I ever expected considering this is a one-time thing.

I’ve done a lot of kissing in my life. Mike Gordon was the first boy I kissed. We were in seventh grade when he caught me kissing my fist behind the middle school auditorium. Instead of laughing at me and humiliating me by telling everyone he’d caught me doing it, he said I could use him for practice. What I didn’t know at the time was that he was the one using me for practice. He had a crush on an eighth grader and didn’t want to seem inexperienced. Mike and I made out every day for weeks. He moved away twenty years ago, and I still credit him for making me the kisser I am today. I may not be good at other things, but kissing I know.

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