Page 71 of Keeping Knight

“I do.” Pulling her into my embrace, I repeat, “I do. So much, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m like a damn horny teenager again. There’s no question of it. I want to have sex with you. I want to watch you come while I’m inside you. Really inside you. I want to fill you up and feel your body wrapped around me and I want to—shit. I want all of it, Ruby. I want you more than anything.”

The worry fades from her eyes. “I want that too.”

“Okay, then.”

She blinks at me. “Okay?”

“Yes.” I lift Ruby in my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist like the world’s cutest koala. As I head out of the kitchen, I dip my head to kiss her again. “I’m more than ready. And there’s nothing I want more than to be with you.”

Chapter Sixteen

RUBY

This is another thing I used to think only happened in books.

I would read about it in the romance novels I’d edit—the strong, handsome, muscly hero effortlessly carrying the heroine off to the bedroom, with nary a bead of sweat in sight. He’d often say something along the lines of her not weighing more than a feather. Or that she weighed less than what he lifted during his workouts.

I never liked those descriptions much. What if the heroine weighed more than the proverbial feather? Did that mean she didn’t deserve to be swept off her feet, too?

So I guess I might have been biased against the whole hero carrying his woman off to the bedroom theme. I can walk there on my own, thank you very much, I used to think. I don’t need to be carried.

But that was before Micah. Before I discovered that men actually do carry women around. Or at least, my man does. And I guess those romance authors know what they’re talking about, because it’s a heck of a lot sexier than I ever imagined.

There’s just something about being held in his arms, feeling the play of his muscles as he carries me, looking up at him to see this intense yet tender expression in his gaze, and knowing without question that he’ll never drop me.

When Micah carries me, I feel protected. Desired. Treasured.

Oh, and he doesn’t mention my weight. So that’s a plus, too.

As soon as Micah reaches the second floor of the condo, he lifts me higher against his chest and picks up his pace. “I need a smaller place,” he mutters.

“A smaller place?” I readjust my arm around his neck. “Why?”

“Because it takes too long to get to the bedroom,” he replies. “And it’s just…” He frowns. “It’s just too big. That’s all.”

“Okay.” I don’t care what size Micah’s condo is. “If you want a smaller place, I bet you could find some cool studios. Or a one-bedroom. Something with vaulted ceilings, and maybe some exposed brick. That would be nice. Ooh, or what about a loft? You could use that for an office.”

Micah pushes his bedroom door open with his foot and hurries inside. Then he crosses the room to the king-sized bed and carefully lays me down on top of it. He gazes down at me with an amused smile. “If you’d prefer, we can look at real estate listings.”

All it takes is a quick look at Micah’s bared and muscly chest to get my mind off real estate and back to more important things. Namely, having sex with him after weeks of fantasizing. Giving myself a quick mental scolding—who cares about stupid condos, I tell myself, when the sexiest man in the world wants to have sex with me—I say, “Oh, no. Real estate listings can wait.”

“Okay.” Micah’s smile fades as his gaze moves across my body. His eyes darken. A hungry expression tightens his features. “Good.”

While I watch, he takes his shirt off and drops it to the floor, revealing an expanse of sleek muscle. As he moves, the tattoo on his chest ripples. His abs flex.

And oh, what abs he has. “How many situps do you do each day?” I blurt.

Micah pauses midway through unfastening his pants. “What?”

Why did I ask him that now? “Nevermind.”

He pulls his pants off and steps out of them, leaving him only in a pair of tight black briefs that leave pretty much nothing to the imagination. “Situps? Combined, probably two hundred. But I do different kinds.” Then he flashes me a wolfish smile. “Why? Do you think I should do more?”

“Oh, no. I think that’s plenty.” I steal a glance at my very average, ab-less stomach. Before my life went all crazy, I used to use the little walking treadmill in my office. And when I was feeling stressed, I’d use a yoga app. But my workouts were nothing like what Micah does every day.

“Ruby.” Micah climbs onto the bed and lifts me to my knees. Then he lifts the hem of my sweater and starts peeling it off. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Have I mentioned that?”

“Maybe I should do some situps. And learn how to do those crazy pullups, like you do.”