Page 72 of Protecting Love

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Too late for that.”

She met his gaze, her heart still racing, and knew this was going to complicate everything.

And she wasn’t sure she cared.

It didn’t seem he did either.

“So, food... or something else. This one is your call.”

He laughed. Genuine humor. “You mean I’m getting a choice.”

“We all have choices, Fletcher. But sure, you get this one,” she said, her finger running down his chest. “You asked when my sister would return.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I think I’m being honest. I think it unnerves you as much as I do. And I think the two of us might be all talked out, but I could be wrong.”

“You’re not. Are you sure?”

Just so there was no doubt. So there’d be no regrets. “As sure as I am that I let you in the door with this in mind.”

He swung her into his arms, and her eyes went wide in shock. Never. Ever, had any man effortlessly just made that move.

Just picked her up as if she weighed nothing and marched her toward her room.

He didn’t drop her on the bed. He laid her down. Not carefully like she was a baby. Not like he was afraid to hurt her.

But like a man who knew every move he was going to make.

Every effort, every intention that would pull something out of her she hadn’t felt in way too long.

His mouth was on hers again, his hands lifting the T-shirt from her waist up and over her head.

There were no wasted movements.

No wasted time or energy.

Once her shirt was off, his fingers found the clasp on her bra and flung that aside, his large hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing against her nipples.

They were already hard. Already painfully tight.

And now they were pleading for any kind of release he was willing to give her.

Something told her he was going to drag this out if she didn’t take some kind of control of the situation.

Her hands went under his shirt, over his back. Wow, she actually felt muscles.

She leaned back, their kiss ending. “Shirt off. Let me see.”

He smirked at her. As if he knew exactly what she wanted, then crossed his arms, pulled his shirt up and over his head, barely messing his hair and tossing it aside.

At least with that move there didn’t appear to be any chance of him stopping.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Oh, you know it. You’re getting cocky. But damn, you’ve got every reason to be. Jesus, you put twenty-somethings to shame with that body.”

He snorted and maybe she shouldn’t have let that slip that he was twice that age, but oh, well. She couldn’t help it.