Page 24 of Shockproof

Slight redness reaches his cheeks prior to his shirt landing on the nearby bed. “You flatterin’ me to aid in a distraction technique, Angel Cake?”

“No, I’m flattering you because youdeserveflattering.” Stealing a tiny bite out of my bottom lip can’t be helped. “Seriously, Cowboy. You probably scare tourists every time you’re in Italy by making them think those damn marble statues have suddenly come to life.”

To my surprise, he sweetly asks, “Wanna go to Italy with me?”

“Like…someday in general or someday like I need to look into expediting getting me a passport?”

“You don’t have passport?”

“When have I everneededa passport?!”

Post a hum and nod of a fair point made, he states, “Someday likeafterthis mission is over.”

“But likebeforeyour next one?”

“I don’t think there’s going tobea next one.” My brain barely has time to fathom the comment due to him resuming our sparring. “Let’s do some elbow strikes.” He puts himself into a deeper squat than before. “Except this time, I’mma do some blockin’.” His bunched fists lift to guard his face. “Do notlet me get the drop on you.”

“Only dropping around here is about to be those bottoms,” my finger flicks to his lower half, “on the ground.”

Slater struggles not to smirk as he waves me forward.

From my defensive stance in front of him, I stabilize my core, lift my arm, bend it at the elbow, and swing it towards his face. Like he warned, he opens his palm to gently block the shot, prompting me to recoil and try again. The second time goes exactly like the first, as does the third and fourth, yet on the fifth attempt is when I duck to avoid the block and come for him from the opposite direction creating my last triumph.

An almost proud grunt pops free at the same moment he creates a bit of distance. “And I’ve been defeated.”

“Like a low-level villain in aMortal Kombatmovie.”

He offers me a crooked beam. “You think I was takin’ it easy on you?”

“Iknowyou were taking it easy on me.” Folding my arms across my chest is done on a pointed expression. “You once rescued a broken footed tween from a hostel in New Zealand using chewing gum and a penny.” It’s my turn to shoot him an arrogant smirk. “There’s no statistical probability or risk analysis that wouldeverfavor me getting the upper hand on you while you’re conscious.”

“Orunconscious, baby. You stomp your feet like an elephant alertin’ the herd to poachers.”

“Ohhhh…just shut up and get naked already!” I squeak in a flustered frenzy.

Slater haughtily chuckles, hooks his thumbs in his boxer briefs, and banishes them to his ankles in such a fluid motion it makes me wonder if there was a lesson in the military about stripping efficiently.

Distracted by him and all of his naked, tan glory leaves me open for an attack I probably should’ve expected.

Andwould’veexpected had I not been eye fucking my best friend the way I want him to actually be fucking me.

One second I’m contemplating tucking my tongue back into my mouth and the next I’m mere inches away from the floor to ceiling windows, facing the city skyline, with both of his arms firmly locked around my chest, trapping my arms to my frame. While I know feeling safe isn’t his intent at this very moment, it’s exactly what I feel.

It’s what I always feel when I’m with him.

Against him.

“This is an important hold to know how to get out of, Angel Cake,” he purrs, corn flower blue lettering creeping along the shell of my ear and the rim of my glasses.

Maneuvering my face over my shoulder is done just enough to coo my retort, “Unless you’re the one doing the holding, Cowboy.”

Gravelly groans are the only noise that precede one set of fingers latching onto the front of my sports bra.

Yanking it down.

Forcing my tits to sloppily spill over.

Any chance of gasping is cut off by his hands grabbing my hands and slamming them on the glass. “Don’t. Move.”

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