Page 3 of Curves and Cradles

He’s beautiful, a perfect specimen of masculinity. Every time I dared to look his way, I found his heated gaze locked on me. He smiled at me a few times, and something about his face was open and kind. After several unabashedly long perusals, I had marked him as a soldier, not a movie star.

I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes, but most of the time, I’m an excellent judge of character. So even though he’s undoubtedly the most physically attractive man I’ve ever seen, in real life, I’d guess he’s also good people.

I’m certain that ball chain hides dog tags beneath his shirt. He’s also built, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, and he’s sporting the telltale military cut.

His large hand still grips mine as we cross the street from the bar. He’s being a good sport about the whole thing, which I truly appreciate. I would’ve been mortified facing Blake andherby myself. I heard he’d met someone, and I’m still single. I’ve been single since we broke up. I’ve dated since, but I almost always have to go into Austin, or the rumor mill in my hometown runs rampant. As a high school teacher, I don’t think having my students hear about my dating exploits is wise.

“Do you really hate being called Janie?” Kevin asks. His rich, baritone voice is warm and friendly. But also sexy and all-around yummy.

“Ordinarily, yes, but I meant what I said back there. It didn’t bother me when you said it. Though I’m not sure why.” I laugh. I don’t do this, pick up men in a bar, so I’m unsure how to proceed. Honesty seems the best course of action. “Um, so I appreciate you going along with that, and again I’m sorry I jumped on you.”

He gives me a cocky grin. “It was no problem. Feel free to jump on me anytime.” He smirks.

I stop walking but make no move to tug my hand free. If he wants to hold my hand, I won’t stop him. But I’m going to give him an out for the evening. “You can stop pretending.”

“Pretending?” His towering height and massively broad shoulders should make me nervous, but they don’t. Instead, they make me feel hot and prickly all over.

I find myself looking up into his ridiculously handsome face. Expertly sculpted with a square jaw and a perfectly symmetrical nose. His eyes are impossibly blue and boast thick lashes and shrewd brows that arch expressively. But it’s his lips that hold me hypnotized. They’re full but not too full, and cocky dimples appear on either side when he grins.

Seriously, this guy cannot be for real. No one is this attractive, at least no one in my world. Well, except for maybe my siblings, the twins. “Are you an underwear model?”

He barks out a laugh. “Definitely not. But let’s get back to this pretending you mentioned. What is it that you think I’m faking?”

I shake my head and open my mouth to explain, but no words come out. He’s hotter than me. Anyone can see that. I don’t want to point that out to him in case he hasn’t noticed. Also, I’m pretty sure he has a wicked sense of humor. The way he handled Blake had me stifling laughter. Funny guys are my weakness.

Oh, but this soldier...even without the chiseled perfection of his face, he has pure blue eyes that have been sending secret messages to my ovaries. Dear Lord, just looking at his face makes me forget my name.

He steps closer until he’s positioned me between his body and the brick wall of the laundromat behind me.

My breath catches.

“I wasn’t pretending about being hungry. I really want a burger.” His eyes drop to my lips. “And I wasn’t pretending with that kiss. I didn’t go into that bar to meet anyone, but you’re one hell of a surprise, Janie.” With that, he lowers his head and kisses me.

One of his denim-clad thighs slides between mine, and I fight not to rub against him like a cat in heat. Crap, it’s been too long since I had sex, and I could seriously embarrass myself.

His tongue slides across mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Of their own free will, my legs encircle his waist. He presses flush against me, and the hard length of his oh-so-impressive erection grazes my core. Damn jeans. Why didn’t I wear yoga pants? Or a skirt? Or nothing? Naked and pressed to him is exactly what I need.

His hand skims the hemline of my shirt, and the warmth of his palm brushes my skin as he grips my waist. I squeeze my thighs, rubbing him against me again. His lips and tongue continue their magic on my mouth, turning me into warm goo. Like Play-Doh, only sexier. His hips shift, and I moan.

“Get a room!” someone yells from a passing car.

He ends the kiss and leans his forehead against mine. “I got a little carried away.”

“I’m not complaining.” My voice sounds husky and lust-filled.

He lowers me to my feet and links our fingers again as we walk to the greasy spoon down the street.

“So, this place has good burgers?” he asks as if he didn’t have me dangerously close to coming up pressed to the wall of the Spin City Washateria minutes ago.

“Yes. And milkshakes.” I smile at him, my cheeks tightening with the breadth of my grin. I can be hopelessly goofy, especially when trying not to be, so I quickly look away.

We’re quiet for the rest of the walk to Center Street Burgers. The little bell gives a jingle as we walk in, and Kevin follows me to a booth at the back of the diner. I sit, and he scoots next to me—not across from me. I give him a side-eye, and he laughs and picks up the one-page laminated menu.

His warm body is pressed to mine, and breathing becomes more challenging. As crazy as it seems, I’m getting laid tonight. I resist the urge to pump my fist in the air. It’s been a hell of a dry run. Like seven months. And that guy wasn’t very good. I’m ready to get back on the horse, as it were, and holy hell, what a horse it will be.

When the waitress has taken our orders, Kevin puts an arm on the bench behind me, turning his body slightly to face me. “So, tell me more about that guy, Blake. Aside from the fact that he’s obviously a hipster tool, why’s he an ex?”

I laugh. “For the record, he never dressed like that while we were together. Everyone thought we’d get married, but he didn’t want to marry.” I frown. “At least that’s what he told me at the time. ‘We’re too young, Jane.’” I mock his voice. “He was right about that. We were too young. But then he went on to say that he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married. Evidently, he just didn’t want to marry me. Which is good. I don’t even miss him. We were kids when we were together.” I shrug. “It’s stupid, but I didn’t want him to think I was still single.”

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