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I licked my lips. “Um, it’s my body wash.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “You wash it all over?”
I wasn’t sure that was a rhetorical question, or not, but my brain got stuck thinking about being in a shower, and being naked, and Colt being naked.
I swallowed a whimper, but my nipples hardened. With my thin tank top, I didn’t think he could miss it.
Flustered, I pointed at the forms. “Now, if you—”
I accidentally whacked his coffee mug. In slow motion, I watched it tip.
No.
I flung myself across the desk, trying to rescue the paperwork.
And managed to plant my chest in scalding-hot coffee.
Shit.
I yelped and jerked upright. “Hot. Hot. Hot.”
“Macy!”
Paper flew everywhere as I tossed them out of my hand. I grabbed my sodden shirt and yanked it over my head.
I felt instant relief. “That coffee is as hot as hell.”
“Are you burned?” He pulled me around, and I found myself standing between his legs.
Then his gaze locked on my chest.
I froze, doing my best deer-in-headlights impression. Today, I was wearing a candy-pink bra of sheer lace. It didn’t cover much.
Colt’s hands clenched on my hips.
“You wear stuff like that under your clothes every day?” His voice was deep, tortured.
“Yes,” I whispered. I liked pretty underwear.
His hands moved to my waist, touching my bare skin. I moaned.
“Fuck, Macy.” He shook his head. “This isn’t right.”
But he didn’t let me go.
My blood was hot, my skin was flushed.
“You’re good, nice, sweet, and I’m not.”
“I’m not always sweet,” I protested.
His brows drew together. “You are.”
“I’m not. I can be naughty, too.”
He groaned.
“And I like dirty.” I frowned. “I think. I really, really want some hot, sweaty with a touch of dirty sex.”
