I was so focused on my feet that I didn’t realize Bailey was on the steps to the third floor until I nearly ran into her.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, catching her very smooth, very bare shoulders.
“Oh, my fault! Lettie asked for more water, so I took her up a glass,” she said, but I barely heard her.
Fuck my life. Is that what she slept in? The light purple silk shorts barely covered her thighs and the spaghetti straps on the matching top looked flimsy enough to break. With my teeth.
One. Good. Bite.
“Gage?”
My eyes slid shut. Why did my name sound so damn good coming from her mouth?
I felt her fingers softly graze my sweat-dampened skin.
“Hey, are you okay? Is it your shoulder?”
I swallowed and opened my eyes, shaking my head with a forced smile. “Nawh, I’m okay.”
Her eyes were wide, flecks of gold among the swirls of green as she examined my chest, tugging her on lower lip with her teeth. “Are you sure? I mean...I could ice it for you, or rub it down?”
Her forehead puckered at the same moment my dick hardened at the thought of her gorgeous, talented hands on me—hands that created masterpieces of abstract art. God, the last thing I needed was having those hands on my skin.
Apparently the run hadn’t worked as well as I’d thought.
I needed to fuck her out of my head before I screwed up the one good thing I had going.
“You know, I think I will head out for a little bit. You okay with Lettie?” I asked, looking anywhere but the braless breasts that rose and fell in my face with her breaths.
“Yeah, of course. No rush. Try to relax, okay?”
I nodded, then nearly cursed as a thought came to me. “Shit, sometimes I bring women home…”
She laughed slightly. “I’m well aware of your nocturnal activities. This is your home, Gage. Feel free to…”—she flung her hands out— “do whatever it is you do. Seriously, no judgment.”
I nodded again—like an idiot—and retreated up the stairs before I could further make an ass out of myself, or tell her why I really needed to get out.
A shower and a fresh change of clothes later, I was speeding away from my house in the Aston Martin toward my best friends and women who wanted the one thing I was capable of giving: my body.
No judgment, she’d said.
Hell if I wasn’t judging myself for this one, though.
About the Author
Samantha Whiskey is a wife, mom, lover of her dogs and romance novels. No stranger to hockey, hot alpha males, and a high dose of awkwardness, she tucks herself away to write books her PTA will never know about.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my incredible husband and my awesome kids without which I would live a super boring life!
Huge thanks must be paid to all the amazing authors who have always offered epic advice and constant support! Not to mention creating insanely hot reads to pass the time with!
Big shout out to A.H. for making this shine. And thank you to each and every single one of you AMAZING readers who love the these books as much as I do!
Connell (Carolina Reapers Book 3) Page 21
