Page 13 of Property of Kevlar

She resembled a bridge troll. The soft curls she’d meticulously styled were gone. Her hair was knotted and windblown. With her lipstick smudged around her mouth, her reflection reminded her of a clown. Her eyeliner ran, giving her the ever-so-sexy raccoon look.

There wasn’t enough time to fix herself. However, she could grab a quick makeup wipe and at least tidy up a little. Kelsey had already left Kev alone in her apartment long enough. If she remained in her room another ten minutes, he might come find her. Grabbing her brush, she figured she could at least get the knots out as she entered the living room.

“Sorry,” she apologized and briefly detangled her hair.

With his legs crossed and his ankles on her coffee table, Kevlar grinned. Holding up a bottle of light beer, he winked. “No problem.”

Apparently, he had helped himself to her refrigerator. Nothing invasive about that at all.

7

Kevlar

Holy fucking hell. Kevlar’s grip on his bottle tightened. His jeans got snug in the crotch. Somehow, though, he managed to keep his jaw firmly in place. Swallowing a mouthful of the most skunked beer he’d ever tasted, he stared at Kelsey.

She was a fucking goddess in her dark-wash jeans and black bra earlier. Even with her makeup a mess, she could stop traffic, but this was torture.

Her tits were smooshed down against her chest, but that didn’t conceal the bounty with which she was blessed. Her skintight leggings left little to the imagination. This woman had more curves than the Pacific Coast Highway. Kevlar wanted to ride each and every one of them.

“Purple is your color,” he commented like a goddamn idiot.

Who said that?

Since when was he some sort of fashion connoisseur? He knew fuck-all about clothes. His idea of high-end was a fresh pair of Levi’s and a button-down shirt from Walmart. Yet here he was talking about purple as if he knew anything.

She peered at her attire. “It’s more of a fuchsia.”

Fuchsia? What the hell was fuchsia? Did it matter? Whatever it was, she looked good in it.

“That too,” he said and filled his mouth with the rest of the piss water. He needed something, anything, to take the edge off. Maybe the minimal alcohol content in his drink would thin his blood enough that his cock would deflate.

Fat chance.

Kevlar had the tolerance of a moose, but he had no other options at the moment.

Reaching down, he gripped his bulge and shifted as best he could. Was it the most discreet thing he could’ve done? Absolutely not, but it was necessary.

Her gaze followed his hand as he did it, and her cheeks tinged an adorable shade of pink. Not quite fuchsia, but hey, he’d take what he could get. Quickly, she averted her attention, covered her supple mouth with her hand, and turned toward the kitchen.

He bit back his amusement.

Nervously, she fluffed her hair. “I’m going to get a bottle of water. Do you want a drink?” She whirled around to face him and giggled awkwardly. “Right. You have a beer.”

Kevlar checked the bottle, wiggled it, and lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I could use a refill.”

He extended the butt of the bottle toward her.

Nodding far too vigorously, she reached for it.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said as her fingers curled around the base of the empty beer container. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

Though if she gave him the green light, he wasn’t about to say no. How could he? Look at her!

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of embarrassment than before… and motherfucker.

She had to stop doing that. His cock would never go down if she kept turning crimson in his presence.

Reluctantly, he released the bottle, and she stepped back. “Okay.”