Page 17 of The Wildest One
After a few seconds of pause, she said, “I believe you.” She rubbed her lips together. “Whether I believe it myself, that’s a whole different story.”
Damn, those bullies had done a number on her. It was always the jealous ones who caused the most destruction—and everything I’d heard tonight was their fault. This was the result of their antagonizing mockery.
Which fucking killed me.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, positioning them in a way that covered her tits. “I have an idea.”
“All right.”
She smiled. “Why don’t you show me how perfect you are?”
“You’re saying you want me naked?” I chuckled.
“Quickly.” That grin grew. “Very quickly.”
She clearly hated the spotlight.
Which was fine because I fucking thrived when it was shining on me.
I undid a few buttons at the top of my shirt and lifted it over my head, adding it to the pile of her clothes. As I slipped out of my shoes and let my jeans and boxer briefs drop, I heard, “Oh my God.”
Her eyes were round and large as she gawked at me while I stood naked in front of her.
“You good?” I asked.
“Good? I’m in awe.” She waved me closer since I’d backed up to strip. “I need to touch you.”
I laughed. She was already getting more comfortable—and I liked it.
She went to my chest first, rubbing each of my pecs before moving to my shoulders and biceps. A solo finger then crawled down the center of my abs, stopping just below them.
“When it comes to guys, I’ve always been most attracted to their arms—I don’t know why, they’re just my thing. But, Beck … you’ve converted me.”
“To what?”
“An everything girlie.”
She traced the black tattoos that covered the top part of my chest—a piece I’d had done a few years ago—and down my arm, where the designs continued all the way to my wrist.
“Family. Hockey. College. Before you ask, that’s what it means—some in obvious forms of art, some symbolic.”
“It’s all so beautiful.”
I touched the inside of her wrist, where a smallLwas tattooed. “Is this your only one?”
“Yes.”
I would have asked more questions, but I’d delayed things enough, and I didn’t think I could wait much longer to have her. “We’re going to talk about your tattoo. We’re just not going to talk about it right now.”
“Deal.”
“I’m going to grab a condom from my suitcase in the closet.” I pointed my finger at her. “Do not move.”
“I won’t.”
I went into the walk-in, where my suitcase was open on the floor, unzipping the inside pocket, pulling out one of the metal foil packets from the box that I kept in there. As I returned, tearing off the corner with my teeth, she was looking at me from the dresser. Perched upright and fucking stunning. The bedroom light caught the lighter parts of her hair, the color so much like fall, and the lightness of those round, hard nipples.
“Jesus,” I sighed.
