My Bad (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 4)

I swallowed hard as I saw the solid muscles of his chest come into view.

First, the lower V peeked out—and God, was that something that every woman should get to experience just once—followed by his abdominals, which were no less impressive. Then there was his chest. He had man boob muscles—and not fat, but actual defined, muscular pectorals that were clearly built up from years of hard work. His shoulders also had that muscled hump by his neck, better known as his trapezius muscles.

My eyes once again snagged on his tattoo.

“What does that mean?” I wondered.

The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to know what it was for.

“What?” he asked as he tossed the shirt onto the ground, missing the chair where he’d been aiming completely.

I grinned and watched him work on his pants next.

I wasn’t surprised to see him slip a gun out of the back of his jeans, nor was I surprised to see a couple of magazines follow it. What I was surprised to see him take out was a…

“Why do you have a roll of condoms in your back pocket?” I laughed.

When he pulled it all the way out, it unrolled and nearly hit him about shin level.

The roll of condoms went to the chair as well—this time actually making it.

“Bayou gave them to me as I was leaving his house today,” he answered. “He told me to wrap it up because he knew that I wasn’t.”

My face flushed. “How would he know something like that?”

Hoax’s head tilted slightly. “Have you seen yourself? If someone gave me the chance to have you and gave me the option of gloving up or taking you bare, I’d choose bare every time. Even if you weren’t on birth control.”

I snorted. “But I am.”

This was a discussion we’d had after the impromptu staff bathroom incident. Something that we definitely should’ve had before we’d gone as far as we did, but oh well. At least we’d had it.

I hadn’t been worried that he’d been clean. Hoax was more than a little bit concerned about my well-being, and he wouldn’t put my life at risk, not even if it meant hurting himself in the process of protecting me.

“How does he know we’re having sex, though?” I persisted.

Hoax started on the buckle of his belt and had it undone, his pants unbuttoned, and his jeans around his ankles in the time it took for me to draw in a breath.

“Those are cute underwear,” I teased.

He laughed.

“The Army was nice enough to provide me with underwear when we were in basic, and I like the support.” He defended his choice of wardrobe.

“They’re tighty whities. Only old men wear tighty whities.” I paused. “My grandfather wears tighty whities.”

He snorted and dropped his underwear, making my lips go slack as I looked at his penis.

He had such a nice penis.

One that I wanted to wrap in my hand and coax to life and then straddle and make use of the beautiful specimen.

“I’ve lived with Bayou for most of my life. He knows when I’ve gotten laid.” He walked into the bathroom, giving me a view of his taut ass as well. “I gotta go take a shower real quick. I spilled gas on my pant leg when I stopped before I got your tacos.”

God, I was such a horn dog.

Everything about the man was turning me on.

Even those little dimples above his tailbone were doing it for me!

When I heard the faucet turn on, I realized that I was going to have to do something about my little problem.

Something that I wanted him to do all the work on since I knew from experience it would cause my head to hurt worse if I started moving around too much.

For the first time in hours, my head actually felt very nice. Not better completely, but to the point where I could actually hold a conversation and not worry about my head exploding, or me throwing up all over the person I was talking to.

Taking off my shirt—Hoax’s shirt—I laid it on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers deeper.

Then I started to slowly thrum my clit as I listened to him shower. To the water splashing the tile.

Luckily, he’d learned after that first time to close all my animals out of the bedroom when we were in it, otherwise, they’d make themselves at home.

I heard him groan, and then his voice call out. “I was going to try to take a shower at your hell-hot temperature, but I can’t do it!”

I laughed softly and started to circle my clit harder, faster.

The shower stayed on another five minutes, and I had to stop touching myself because if I didn’t, I’d come.

Just the thought of the man that I now called mine was enough to make me on the verge without any stimulation at all.