Page 42 of Tangled Kisses
Note to self: donotask that question aloud.
Instead of pretending I possess an ounce of feminine wiles, my sense of humor leaps in to save me from complete combustion.
“I can hold a conversation with CEOs and minor royalty without breaking a sweat,” I mutter, half to myself. “But one shirtless cowboy and every brain cell I own just bail on me.”
His laugh is low and warm, and the fire in his eyes says I just made things a thousand times worse.
I groan, tipping my face toward the sky. Might as well let itallhang out. “This is unfair. You shouldn’t be allowed to look that good and expect me to string sentences together.”
Griffin chuckles, dimples flashing. “So you’re saying it’s my fault?”
“Yes,” I shoot back, heat rising in my cheeks. “One hundred percent your fault.”
“I have two questions for you.”
Oh shit, he’s moving closer. There is no way I can handle him any closer to my sex-starved self.
I might lick him or something equally disastrous.
“What?” I stammer, planting a hand on my hip.
He stops directly in front of me, so close I can smell the musky scent rising from his slick skin. So close I can see each individual hair peppering his chest. So close that—nope, I will not allow my gaze to travel further south than that.
Griffin grabs my hands, his skin rough and hot against mine. “First question—do all cowboys fluster you like this? Because I wouldn’t like that.” His mouth dips to my ear, breath skating over my skin. “At all.”
I want to lie. Play it off.
So. Not. Happening.
I’ve already made a total ass of myself, and I’m hardly the first woman to drool over him. He’s used to this. Probably enjoying the hell out of it. Why not give his ego another notch?
“N-nope.” My gaze darts everywhere but his face—the saw, the trees, the damn dirt trail. “Just you.”
He catches my chin with two fingers and tilts my face back until I’m drowning in those blue eyes. A slow, wicked smile spreads across his mouth. Lazy and oh so lethal. “Good.”
I’m going to implode. Right here. Right now. Can he feel that? Can hesenseit radiating off me like a neon sign?
I swallow hard. “What’s the second question?”
Instead of answering, he lifts my hand, turning it over to press his mouth to the inside of my wrist. His teeth graze lightly, a teasing bite, before his lips drag an achingly slow path up my forearm.
A broken sound escapes me, embarrassingly loud in the hush of the trees.
Griffin pulls back just enough to grin, the devil incarnate, heat written all over his face. “The second question was… would you like me to put my shirt back on?”
“Definitely not,” I blurt out, the words flying from my lips before my brain can stop them.“Because it’s so hot out.”
There I go, displaying my extensive conversational skills again.
Can I curl up and die now?
Griffin leans back against the sawhorse, arms folding casually behind his head. Except it’s not casual at all. His chest flexes, shoulders broadening, every muscle on display. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
That bastard.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes.
A devilish grin curves across his face. “Every second.”
