His lips tick with the hint of a smile, and he gathers me closer. “Right. Never screwed her. We hooked up about six months ago. One night. It wasn’t anything more than—”
I cover his mouth with my hand. “How is it that those lips can cause delirium with one kiss, and induce a gag seconds later?”
He kisses my palm, sending tingles up my arm. I move it away to find him grinning.
“Mouse, just keeping it real.”
“Yeah well, I’ve got enough information. My mind is all over the place with all the real that happened between you two.” I groan and drop my forehead to his chest. “She’s right though. I’m way older than you.”
“I dig that you’re older. Chicks my age act like toddlers hopped up on helium. They’re obnoxious. Or didn’t you notice with the production that skank just put on?”
I place my palms on his chest and look up at him. “Skank? That’s not nice.”
His eyebrows practically hit his hairline. “Oh, you can call her an amazon-looking bitch, but I can’t call her a skank?”
“Well, yeah. Being a bitch is one thing, but belittling her because you two hooked up? I mean technically if she’s a skank for hooking up with you, then you’re just as much of a skank for hooking up with her.”
He holds a stoic expression for a few seconds before he drops his head back and roars with laughter. His eyes sparkle with humor, the skin at the corners wrinkles from the force of his smile, gorgeous lips framing his perfectly straight teeth. My heart leaps in my chest.
“Sweetheart, that was some funny shit.” He kisses my forehead, still shaking with a silent chuckle.
“You know what sucks?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to hearing it.”
“She’s super pretty.” I’m not hideous looking. Some would say I’m attractive, for an older mom type, I guess. But she’s the full package. Well, except the bitchy part.
He cups my jaw with both hands and tilts my head to look me in the eyes. “Not nearly as magnificent as you.”
“You say that, but she’s, like, model gorgeous. And she’s totally into you.” Dropping my gaze, I slip my fingers into the ends of my hair and wrap one strand around my forefinger.
“Is that what you’re worried about? Me and—”
“Blah, blah, blah. Please don’t say it.” I scrunch my face hoping, it will block out the image of his words. Me and Camille. Ick.
I feel his eyes on me. “Hear me, Mouse.” Thumbing my lower lip, he drags my gaze to his. “I’d rather cut my own dick off than put it inside anyone else. No bullshit.”
Oh my gosh. Warmth floods my chest. I can’t believe he just said that.
“Blake?”
“Hmm?”
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“That’s me, Mr. Romance.”
I giggle and push up on my tiptoes to kiss his smiling lips. “You’re something else, Blake “The Snake” Daniels. Always a surprise.”
“Yeah? You lookin’ for a surprise?” He grips my bottom with both hands.
A squeak shoots from my lips. “Save it for tonight. Right now, I’m hungry. Feed me.”
“Oh, I’ll feed you.” The rough baritone of his words combines with his wicked smile.
An aching low in my belly hums its request, drowning out the grumbling of my empty stomach.
Lunch smunch.
Twenty-five
Blake
It’s early. Through the plastic vertical blinds, I’ve watched the black night fade into purple and then blue. Sometime around purple, my woman rolled onto me. Her soft lips brushed against my pec and then moved down, getting me up in more ways than one.
After she gave me my wake-up call, I returned the favor. Twice.
Our legs are tangled together. Her head rests on my chest, and her arm lies over my belly. I run my fingers through her hair in long strokes. It’s almost time for me to go, but leaving her bed makes me feel heavy. Every footstep toward the door is like dragging bricks.
“Snake?” My nickname from her lips drips like honey to my ears.
“Hmm?”
She swirls her fingers around the tattoo at my ribs. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I don’t know if you’re comfortable talking about it. If not, that’s fine, but I’m curious.”
“You can ask me anything, Mouse. I’ve got nothing to hide from you.”
“Why were you only in the Marines for two years?”
Except that. Her question dropkicks my post-coital bliss right out the window.
I don’t want to hide anything from Layla, but I’m not excited about baring my ass to her either. Some stories can make a man look like a dipshit. This is mine.
I let out a long, deliberate exhale to calm my nerves. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”