“Does that bother you?” I ask in a feathery voice that I’ve never heard come from my mouth before.
“Not a bit. I like it.” He brushes the backs of his knuckles down my upper arm, and my entire limb feels like it’s been doused in lava… in a good way, not in anI’ll be spending the foreseeable future in the burn centerway.
“Good because other than me undergoing a complete personality transplant, I don’t envision it going away anytime soon.” And since he seems to be okay with touching, I reach up and smooth that glossy curl between my forefinger and thumb. It’s as soft as it looks, like rich silk against my skin.
“You should never change for anyone, Juliette.” Reno’s voice goes a bit raspy, and my name on his lips is a soothing melody. “You make me want to dream with you.”
Flipping hell.He is seduction personified in a six-foot-something frame of muscle and sexuality.
“Anyone can dream,” I tell him. “Why don’t you go solo on the next cloud analysis?”
He makes a little hum of agreement and rolls onto his back but not before sliding his arm beneath my head. It’s a smooth-as-hell move, but I allow it, resting the back of my head against his biceps. His big, muscular, strong, hard, delicious biceps. I’d wager a month’s salary that Reno Swain’s upper arms could give those veiny forearms a runfor their money.
“What are you doing?” he asks when I pull out my phone and snap a quick picture.
“Getting a pic of Sexy Bunny. I want to remember him forever,” I say dramatically.
Reno laughs. “Send it to me too.” He rattles off his number, and I program it into my phone before sending the photo.
For the next few minutes, we stare silently up at the sky until he points to a misshapen oval cloud. “That one looks like the Grinch’s head,” he proclaims. “See that little tuft on the top that looks like his hair?”
“That’s a good one,” I praise, and for a long while, we lose ourselves in the clouds, the left side of my body pressed against his right side. We manage to find Tony Soprano, a Big Mac, a bird smoking a cigar, and two very cheeky ladybugs having sex.
“Who knew ladybugs liked it doggy style? I would have taken them as missionary fans,” Reno muses as we regard the rounded shape that appears to be mounting a similar one.
“Oh, the wonders of the animal kingdom,” I laugh. “Cloud gazing isn’t usually so… erotic.”
“Maybe it’s the company,” he ventures, pivoting his head to look at me. All softness is gone from his eyes, replaced with flinty green fire. As if our movements have been choreographed, we both roll until we’re facing each other.
“Perhaps it is. I’ve never cloud gazed with a man before.”
Reno lets out a low growl and grasps my hip, hauling me closer with the ease of moving a stuffed animal. “Come here, dream girl.”
Andohhhhh.That’s a really good nickname.
Our bodies are pancaked together, and he’s all hard muscle and warm skin when I rest one hand on his broad shoulder. His forehead tilts forward to touch mine.
“Can I kiss you, Juliette?”
I enter my Marilyn Monroe era when my breathless reply leaves my mouth. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
His lips curve into the hint of a smile before they brush across mine like a whisper. Then he pulls back, his eyes exploring every inch of my face like he’s trying to memorize me. I do my best to hold back my frown. That isnotwhat I expected when he asked to kiss me. I was hoping for some tongue action with a side of groping. Or maybe I was wishing he’d hump me like a ladybug, which is honestly the most bizarre statement I’ve ever thought.
“Reno…” I start, and his eyes drop to my lips.That’s right, buddy. Focus on the target zone.
“Shhh, dream girl. Just let me look at you for a second,” he murmurs.
Oh. Well. Alrighty then.
His hand trails from my hip and up my arm, leaving a path of hot goosebumps on my bare skin. Then he cups the side of my neck, his thumb drawing ovals against my jaw. I’m mesmerized by his eyes moving over every inch of my face. I’ve written about characters being eaten up by someone’s gaze, but I’d never experienced it in real life. Until now.
Until Reno.
He’s so intense, his irises darkening as he takes me in. His voice is a rumble that I can feel as much as I can hear it. “You are… so beautiful, baby.”
If not for his big hand spanning my neck and lower face, holding me in place, I think I could melt through the blanket and be swallowed up by the earth.
Then his mouth is on me, lips pulling against mine with tender sucks as his fingers close around the back of my neck. It’s a show of possession and dominance, and I’m not complaining about it a bit.
