Jill Shalvis - Superb And Sexy

But then she felt his hands on her foot, and then came the rasp of a zipper before he tugged her boot off.

And her other.

Which left her bare feet in his big, work-roughened palms. He took in her toenails, painted purple today, which didn’t mean anything except she’d been bored the other night. She had a silver ring on her second toe, which didn’t mean anything either. Nothing around her meant much, especially lately, and honestly, she was getting a little worried about that.

She needed something to mean something. And she wished it could be him. God, she wished that she could stop pushing and just let him in, really in.

Then his thumb skimmed over her instep, and she felt the touch in all the places she shouldn’t. She did her best not to melt under his touch, once again asking him the burning question of the day. “Where did you learn to fight?”

His eyes met hers, stubborn to the depths. “Where did you?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?”

He sighed. “I grew up in Compton. Skinny little white boys didn’t fare so well unless they knew how to protect themselves.”

Staring up into his inscrutable face, she tried to see any of that vulnerability that must have been a part of him then. “You don’t talk about your family.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because.” When she just looked at him, he gave in. “My parents were barely able to score their next fix, much less worry about their street brat.”

“I see.” She knew it’d been bad, she just didn’t know how bad. She’d been lusting after the tall, enigmatic, gorgeous pilot for what, nearly a year now, and yet in all that time, she’d never seen him as anything less than a sure, steady, sharp, sophisticated man, a man who could, by turns, make her laugh, want to tear her hair out in both lust and temper, and in general, drive her mad.

She’d never pictured him doing as she had, overcoming mountains of shit to be where he was, and that was her selfish shame. “So you learned how to fight out of necessity.”

“Survival of the fittest.”

And he was fit. Incredibly so. Mouthwateringly so. But to find out it wasn’t just lucky genetics or a love of a good gym seemed to give him a whole new dimension for her to chew on.

“Now you,” he said.

“Classes,” she admitted. No need to hide that. “I learned to fight in classes. Lots and lots of classes.”

“Why?”

“A girl needs to be able to protect herself.”

He took that in, his gaze never leaving hers. “A girl shouldn’t have to. Especially a young girl. How old were you?”

“When I what?”

“Needed to know how to defend yourself.”

Okay, too close. She crossed her arms, or tried to, belatedly remembering it was a bad idea. When she winced this time, it was for real, and his mouth went grim. “Lift up,” he told her, and when she did, he pulled the blanket from beneath her to cover her up.

Which had been her plan. Let him put her to bed.

Except he didn’t look like he was planning on going anywhere. She needed to get him to leave for long enough that she and Leena could get out without him following. The only idea that came to her seemed fairly evil, even for herself, but she had no choice. “I can’t sleep in my clothes.”

He went still, then lifted only his gaze. “No?”

“I need help undressing.”

A dizzying mix of reluctant arousal and discomfort crossed his face. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you go to the post office for me, and I’ll get Leena to do this.”

At his expression, she knew she’d done it. Finally. He was about to run like a little girl and choose the post office.

Brody stared at Maddie lying in the bed, looking wan and helpless, and very unlike herself. If he hadn’t kissed her, he might really wonder if he, indeed, had the right twin. Slowly, he repeated the important part of her statement because it bore repeating. “You need help undressing.”

“Yes.” She tossed back the blanket, reminding him of how little she was wearing. “But don’t worry. Leena’ll help me undress and make me hot tea for the pain meds while you go to the post office.”

Uh-huh. Except…yeah. She sounded just a little too eager for him to go.

Big surprise.

He took in her teeny tiny little miniskirt, something he’d been doing his damnedest not to. It had crept up so high on her silky smooth, creamy thighs that he could just see a barely there hint of silk between. Her top, that lacy number, fit her like a glove and had risen too, revealing a strip of belly and that sparkly piercing twinkling at him like a beacon.

Jesus.

Sliding her fingers up her body until they rested low on her abs, her thumb playing with the hem of the shirt. “I’m not sure I can get this off by myself.”

As if to prove it, she tried, using her good hand, pulling the material up to just beneath her breasts, squirming as she strained to get her arm out. With some work, she did get the one arm out, and then she was caught halfway in, halfway out, her head beneath the stretchy material.

Beneath the lace, she had silk. Tiger-striped silk in the form of a demi bra cut so low that all her wriggling and squirming threatened her coverage.

Not to mention, shot his distance theory all to hell.

“Uh-oh.” She bounced up and down. Yeah, like that was going to do anything except maybe give him a heart attack because her breasts were bouncing too, shimmying and shaking, and he actually felt a coronary coming on-

And then it happened.

A nipple popped right out of her bra, a sweet rose-colored nipple.

Riveted to the spot, he stood there, heart pounding, blood roaring like a white water rapid as it rushed through his body to pool between his legs.

“Damn it, I’m stuck. Can you get Leena?” Her voice was muffled through the shirt. She had her bad arm pinned to her side, her good arm straight up over her head, her top still half on and half off.

And a nipplegate situation going on.

He had to clear his throat to talk and even then managed only a barely audible “I said I’d do it.”

Because he was stupid. Very, very stupid.

For her part, she kept valiantly trying to free herself, which involved more bouncing. He tried to move, but in reality, he could do nothing but stare at her breast, the tip puckering up tight right before his eyes, making his mouth water.

“Brody? You out there?”

He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he managed hoarsely.

She tugged again and then let out a low cry of pain, which pretty much galvanized him into reluctant action. Setting a knee on the bed, he leaned over her. Christ, where to put his hands? “Be still,” he demanded, but the woman never listened. She kept moving, moving, moving, and her bared breast kept bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. “Seriously. Sit still.”

He held her raised arm with one hand and ordering himself not to look, grabbed the hem of her shirt to try to get the thing off her, all the while taking care of her bad arm.

And not looking.

He succeeded at the first and failed miserably at the second. The shirt snagged on her elbow, and once he fixed that, he was nearly home free until he caught the material on her earring.

“Ouch.”

“Don’t move!”

“I’m not!”

Not earring. Earrings. She had four silver hoops in her ear, and he had no idea why, other than the tiny hoops made a sweet little tinkling sound when she moved, and for some reason, the sight of them made him want to nibble there.

But there were lots of places he wanted to nibble at the moment. With Herculean effort, he finally dragged her free of the shirt and tossed it aside.

In unison, they looked down at her exposed breast. “Whoops,” she said and tucked her nipple back into the cup of her bra.

He’d carried her through the house and up the stairs without breaking a sweat, but he was sweating now. “Okay, then. I’ll just…” Dream about your body, and that nipple, for the rest of my life. “…get you that tea.”

“But I’m not all the way undressed.”

He eyed her skirt. The smallest skirt in the history of skirts. “Right. I guess that has to come off.”

“The zipper’s in the back,” she said helpfully.

And then she all but stopped his heart by rolling to her belly, exposing the smooth, sweet skin of her slim back, broken only by the strap of her bra and that scrap of material masquerading as a skirt, which revealed her tattoo and emphasized the sweetest ass he’d ever seen, not to mention the two tightly toned legs that could take him weeks and weeks to explore.

“Do you see the zipper?” she asked, her face pressed into the bed.

The one that ran a whole whopping two inches from the small of her back just below her small tattoo to halfway down the already aforementioned sweet ass? Yeah, he saw it.

“Brody?”

“On it.” His palms itched. His fingers twitched. Everything twitched. He should have gone to the damn post office. With a knee still on the bed, he leaned over her and grabbed the zipper tab.

Then pulled.

She wriggled, widening the gap, and if he’d thought her skirt tiny, it had nothing on her thong panties, a matching tiger-striped, narrow strip bisecting the most amazing, mouthwatering ass he’d ever seen.

Reaching down with her good hand, she shoved the skirt off one hip and then wriggled-Jesus H. Christ-wriggled to try to lower the other side as well. She did have a small birthmark on the back of her right thigh, and at the thought, a strangled sound of lust tumbled from his lips.

Craning her neck, she blinked at him. “You okay?”

No. No, he wasn’t. All of the blood in his body, every single drop, had left his brain for parts south.

“I can’t-” She struggled some more, those sweet cheeks lifting off the bed, and he found himself actually leaning in as if to kiss them.