Page 55 of Branded
The blond wooden panel was pushed wide. The lights inside dimmed. The room empty?—
A flicker of movement.
No.
Not empty.
My lips parted as a wave of heat hit me with the force of a tsunami.
Smitty was standing there.
Naked with only a towel around his neck. And, sweet baby dragon, I’d always discounted big men in the romance novels I read as something that fiction writers made up, and yeah, I’d caught a glimpse in those gray sweatpants, but it was fucking different seeing that cock out in the wild.
I went wet, could feel my panties clinging to my pussy. My nipples tightening, rubbing against my bra, the slight chafe a tease and not nearly enough.
Right.
I should…
Leave.
He might want privacy—except, hadn’t I heard all those stories about him liking to parade around naked?
Maybe he liked people to watch?
Maybe he would like me?—
Wait, Kailey. Jesus, I thought, slamming my eyes closed. On the life of your dragon, Esmerelda, he hasn’t consented to you staring at him like a creeper. Keep. On. Walking.
Right.
This was wrong.
But my lids slit open, and I inhaled sharply at all those muscles dancing as he dragged the towel through his hair. So why did it feel so damned right watching him like this? Wanting him like this?
Then he froze.
Spun to fully face me.
And…I couldn’t look away.
Not when the hand clutching the towel dropped to his side. Not when that brought my gaze back down.
To his penis.
Which garnered a good long stare, its length growing as it hardened under my watchful eyes. It swung slightly when he took a step toward me, his thighs flexing and drawing my gaze down toward those quads.
The black hair covering them did absolutely nothing to disguise their strength.
Especially as he strode toward me with complete casualness, seemingly not giving a damn that he was naked and gloriously erect when I managed to tear my eyes off his cock and bring them up to his face.
To the—no pun intended—cocky smile on his lips. To the molten heat that threatened to turn me to ash. To the?—
He reached me, winding his fingers around my wrist and drawing me into the room.
All the air left my lungs, and only part of the reason was from my front colliding with his. The rest was…because my front had collided with his. Smitty was naked and strong, and his arms were wrapping around me, his masculine spice in my nose, the blazing heat of his body scorching through my clothes.
“Little bird,” he murmured, his chin coming to the top of my head, his arms wrapped tight. “Oh, little bird, how am I going to punish you for spying on me?”
