He smirked, said, “Human rights are nothing to joke about, Mira,” then squirmed when she pinched his side. “I’ve been tested recently too.”
“Okay,” she said, considering. “But I haven’t been tested in years.”
“Would you want to?” he asked. “Get tested for me? If not, it’s fine. We can keep using condoms. Whatever you want.”Whatever you want for this no-strings sexcation where my heart is absolutely ready to fall out of my chest and into your hands, and my cock is literally dying to feel you bare.“I’m cool with it either way.”
Running her fingertips over his chest, she said, “I’ll stop by the clinic tomorrow.”
For a long moment, they only stared at each other, the muted light from the bedside lamp casting her in gold. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Mira,” he said softly, “you are so beautiful.”
It was too much. He saw it immediately in the way her eyes went wide, feel it in the way her shoulders stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”
She rolled onto her back, away from him, leaving a cold patch along the entire right side of his body. “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”
Shit.“Finally,” he said, trying to lighten the mood he’d accidentally darkened. “It’s way past my bedtime.”
Turning her head, she smiled at him, and he successfully resisted the urge to roll back on top of her, kiss her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, but barely.
“Oh, wait.” She crawled off the bed to dig in her basket. Watching her, staring openly, he appreciated that she didn’t seem uncomfortable being naked in front of him. He’d live his entire life without a stitch on if it was socially acceptable. And she looked so mouthwateringly sexy.
“Hey, Mira?”
Still searching through the basket, she said, “Yes, Cole?”
“Would it be all right if I objectified you for a second?”
Her head rose, her eyes sparkling. “In what way?”
“It’s just,” he dragged his gaze down to her toes and back up again, “your body is fucking phenomenal.”
Turning back to face him, and with a heaping dose of sarcasm, she said, “Really?”
Did she think he was joking? “Yes, really.”
“Which part?” She waved a hand over her thick, luscious thighs. “The cellulite?”
He sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “Fuck yes.”
Her hand moved to the soft curve of her stomach. “Maybe these stretch marks?”
He moaned. “So hot.”
She took her breasts in both hands, raising them slightly. “Or these, that used to live up here? But now?” She dropped them, letting them bounce.
“Your tits might be my favorite part. It’s a toss-up between your tits and your big, beautiful ass.”
The Mira Pink flooding her cheeks made him wish he could grab his phone and take her picture. “You’re making me blush.”
“You’re making me hard.” He tried to sit up, then winced because the post-sex euphoria was wearing off and moving fucking hurt.
Shaking her head at him like he was the saddest little overachiever she’d ever seen, she turned around again, giving him one last view of her world-class booty. When she found what she was looking for in her basket, brandishing the red tin of Tiger Balm in her hands like a game show host, he almost wept. “Mira, you’re seriously saving my life right now.”
Twirling her finger in the air, she motioned for him to roll over, climbed back onto the bed with him, and said, “Tell me where it hurts.”
My shoulders, my back, my heart. Since he couldn’t say that last part, not yet, he told her, “Everywhere,” because it was at least partially true.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN