Page 96 of Small Town, Big Storm
I chuckle and her teeth press into her bottom lip.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Laugh.”
My brows drag together.
She waves her hand.“It makes your abs more…ab-ie.”
“Is that a word?”
“Definitely not.”
I laugh again and when she scowls, I catch her hand, press it to my stomach.“You can touch, baby.I don’t mind.”
“You’re evil, Storm Harrison.”
“And yet you’re not pulling away,” I murmur.
That flush in her cheeks grows, but she doesn’t draw back.Her fingers flex and I almost groan as they stroke lightly over my stomach.
“One,” she whispers.“Two.Three.Four.”Her pinky trails lower, dips almost to the waistband of my pants.“Five.Six.”
I want to make a joke congratulating her on her counting ability.
But I’m too focused on that pinky finger.
On the way it drags lightly back and forth across my skin, raising goose bumps in its wake, and…fuck, well, it’s raising my dick too.
Which has me laughing.
“What?”she asks.
“You did this to me that night.”
“Did what?”
I jerk my chin down, and she frowns but shifts back enough to follow my gaze.“I don’t understand…oh,”she finishes on a whisper.
“Yeah.Oh.”
She nibbles at her bottom lip.
“And apparently, I have no better control around you than when I was a teenager.”
“You keep saying I’m beautiful.But you have to know thatyou’rethe beautiful one.”
“Is it my scars and fake teeth?”I quip, and even though I want to press her hand more firmly to me, want to encourage it to trail south, to slip beneath the waistband of my pants and wrap around my?—
I pull it free, press a kiss to her palm.
“Not to risk that Wrath of Poppy again,” I say gently.“But I am worried about how little sleep you seem to get.”
Her gaze comes to mine, holds.
But it’s not anger this time.
