It's in His Kiss (38 page)

Authors: Jill Shalvis

She went still for a beat, her eyes wide on his. He had no idea what was in her head, but he knew what was in his—the soft, curvy body practically in his lap.

And he nearly choked when she lifted the blanket and took a good, long peek at him. “What the hell—”

She raised her gaze to his. “You left your underwear on.”

“Because you’d have screamed your head off if I’d stripped naked,” he said.

“But you told me to, and I did.”

“I didn’t say strip
everything
,” he said. “It never occurred to me that you’d lose the undies, cute as they are.”

They both stared at the black lace lying innocuously on the floor. She flushed and lifted her chin. “Well, there’s only one thing to do now,” she said.

“What?”

“You have to do the same as I did.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Drop the boxers.”

He stared at her. “Tell me the truth. You hit your head too, right?”

“No. And I’m not kidding,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “Lose ’em, or a freak-out of
epic
proportions will commence in three. Two. One—”

“Jesus, hang on.” He worked at shedding his boxers, doing his best to keep covered by the blanket. “I can’t believe you looked after I promised to not look at you—”

“Yes, well, one of us isn’t a gentleman now, are we?” she asked.

A short laugh escaped him, which he cut off when she—holy shit—lifted the blanket and peeked again.

Grabbing the blankets like a virgin at a frat sleepover, he swore. “Jesus, woman!”

“Just making sure,” she said.

“Sure of
what
?”

Looking pretty damn pleased with herself, she laughed.

And damn, she had a smile on her. Mischievous and full of secrets, but still. “Okay,” he said with a reluctant smile. “I like that look on your face much better than the abject misery you were wearing, but didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look at a naked man and laugh?”

She just laughed again, the sound soft and musical and yet somehow both sexy and sweet at the same time.

He sighed. “At least you’re warming up.”

“A little,” she allowed.

“Maybe I should peek to make sure.” Teasing, he made to lift the blankets—

With a squeak, she fisted them tight to her chest. “Don’t you dare!”

“Uh-huh. What’s good for the goose and all that.” All he could see of her over the pile of blankets was her face, those fathomless eyes, and all that wet, dark hair clinging to her temples and jaw. She smelled like ocean and sexy woman—his favorite scent—and was suddenly struck by how beautiful she was.

Oh, shit, Donovan, don’t go there
. . .

“Cole?”

He had to clear his throat twice to answer. “Yeah?”

“I really need my phone—it’s on the dock where I dropped it. Hopefully. But I’m still cold.”

Still staring into her eyes, he pulled her tighter into him, and at the feel of her soft curves, his body gave up the valiant fight and tightened.

Some parts more than others.

He immediately began to work complicated calculus problems in his head, trying to remember the definition of the derivative of the function—

She pressed her icy feet against his calves, and he yelped like one of his sisters.

She laughed again, and he immediately lost track of calc. All he could feel was her frozen limbs. Rubbing her arms to warm her up, he forced himself not to think about what she might look like under the blanket.

He failed miserably, which meant he was hard as a rock
and
buck-ass nekkid. And worse, she had to feel it pressing into her hip. He tried to pull back, but she made a soft, disagreeable sound and tightened her grip on him.

“You’re not warm yet?” he asked in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible.

He couldn’t help it.

He was running out of enough blood to run both heads. And on top of that, their bodies were melded together in a way that had him heated up and aching to lay her flat on her back on the bench and—

“You’re really warm,” she whispered.

Try hot as hell, babe
. “I’ll go get your phone,” he said valiantly. “And something hot for you to drink.”
Coffee, tea . . . me
.

“Uh. . .” She shifted, bumping a bare thigh right into his erection.

He hissed out a breath as his hips gave an entirely instinctive roll to get closer.
Christ
. And there, perfect—now she was back to staring at him.

“You’re. . .” She broke off. “Um.”

“Yeah.” He was “um” all right. “Involuntary reaction,” he promised. “Just ignore it.”

“But—”

“Seriously. Don’t give it another thought.” He went to shrug and had to bite back a grimace over the pain in his shoulder. “
Drink
?” he asked again.

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Tea, please.”

Tea for her, and never mind that it was the crack of dawn, he’d take a vodka, straight up. He grabbed a towel for coverage and worked at not further revealing himself, which practically involved a degree in gymnastics.

Olivia was smiling by the time he got all wrapped up. “I’ve already seen it all,” she reminded him.

“I really wish you’d stop smiling when you say that.” Shaking his head when her smile only widened, he moved up the stairs to go retrieve her phone for her, the irony that she was now amused instead of disgruntled, and he was disgruntled instead of amused, not escaping him.

As the brains behind a wedding site, Callie sees it all: the ring, the dress, the smiles . . . and the tears. It’s the last part that keeps her single – getting left at the altar will do that to a girl. But when Callie returns to her hometown, she finds that her high-school crush is sexier than ever . . .

Tanner is a deep-sea diver with a wild, adrenaline-junkie past – and now his teenage son is back in his life. How can Tanner be a role model when he’s still paying for his own mistakes? It’s hard enough to keep his heart on lockdown around gorgeous Callie, but she makes him feel like he can be the man she – and his son – deserve. Lucky Harbor holds their past; can it hold a beautiful new future?

‘Shalvis pens a tale rife with the three “H”s of romance: Heat, heart and humor’

Romantic Times