Katrina
He’s gorgeous.
No, scratch that. He’s just plain fucking hot.
He’s got hooded, smoky fuck-me eyes that a woman like me could get lost in—and I’m pretty fucking handy with a map. His chest is so sculpted, it looks like it was modeled after a Greek statue in the Louvre—or maybe the statues were modeled after him.
His dark hair is so thick, I can imagine myself running my fingers through it in ecstasy just by looking at it.
His abs…My hand is practically trembling as I raise my fingertips up to them. They make washboards look bad. I just wanna drop to my knees where I stand, and let my tongue roam up and down those sexy chiseled hills until I forget my own name.
“Go ahead,” he says. “You can touch, if you like.”
Let’s get one thing straight here, babe. Momma likes. Momma wants to touch this man all over until every inch of him is covered in my fingerprints.
But then I look up at him and see the way he’s smirking down at me with that shit-eating grin. And that? That just pisses Momma off.
“Don’t fucking flatter yourself,” I say, narrowing my eyes and pulling my hand away.
Seriously—who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“Come on, you know you fucking want to.”
He stands with that smirk still on his face.
“What I really want is to send you back where you came from.”
I grab my laptop off the table and sit down on my leather couch. I pull up MailOrder.com on the screen.
“You don’t really fucking want to do that now.”
He struts over to where I sit and plops himself down next to me.
“Get your naked ass off my couch!”
“Make me, sweetheart.”
He sounds like a tough guy from one of those bad-ass movies.
“I don’t have to make you,” I tell him. “You’re canceled. Full stop. I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but—”
“Oh, I know exactly what kind of woman you are.” He leans in close to me, and for a moment I’m caught up in rapture by the smell of his skin and the closeness of his lips. “You’re the kind who orders hot men on the internet and then chickens the fuck out when it comes time to put them to use.”
Which, okay. Fair.
But that doesn’t change my mind.
I pick up my laptop and move away from him. I can only hope he gets off my couch.
He follows me to the kitchen. I put my laptop on the counter, and he shuts it.
“You look fucking sexy in that nightie. Let me show you why you shouldn’t return me.”
He stands like he’s some kind of god and smiles that shit-eating grin at me again.
“No, you’re not going to show me anything. I’m returning you as soon as I figure out how to do it.”
I open my laptop back up.