shapely backside.
“ What are you doing up?” he growled.
Darcel jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him. She raised her hand to her chest and let out a ragged breath. “You scared me.”
She was facing him now, and he sucked in a deep breath as her skimpy outfit clung tightly to her voluptuous curves. If he'd thought her white baby doll top had been steamy, this outfit was bordering on the X-rated. It was way worse than the baby doll top, he realized, as his gaze automatically drifted to the lace camisole and the matching boy shorts. Her boobs were bursting out of the top, so much that he half expected to see her nipples pop out. Her shorts were so tight they looked like panties, and he could clearly see the outline of her mound.
“ I was thirsty,” she explained as she held up her glass of milk.
“ Don't you own anything that fits?” The words popped out of his mouth before he could pull them back in. For some reason he couldn't think straight around this woman.
She tugged down her boy shorts then self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest.
“ I forgot to pack a robe.” Her cheeks reddened under his scrutiny. “I didn't know you were home.”
“ Get outta here,” he said in a strangled voice.
“ Excuse me?” Her voice was filled with outrage.
He took a step toward her. “I'm serious, Darcel. Get outta here.”
“ I just wanted some milk. Chill out.” She turned her back on him and placed the milk carton back in the fridge, her rounded butt cheeks bouncing under the fabric of her boy shorts. Erotic thoughts filled his head as he imagined himself pulling down her shorts and burying himself deeply inside her.
He felt himself harden at the thought of it. He had to forcibly stop himself from taking the five steps it would take to reach her side. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, taking small, shallow breaths to dull his need.
Darcel turned around and reached for her glass of milk, her heart-shaped lips taunting him as she took several gulps with gusto. Trueblood watched as she swallowed several times, her throat muscles convulsing in ripples, until she finally let out a satisfied sigh as she emptied the glass. She wiped her hand across her mouth, missing a spot of milk that lingered above her lip.
He continued to stare at her without speaking, his dark eyes mesmerized by how sexy she looked in her pajamas and how seductively she drank milk. He watched as she walked toward him, shoulders erect, fluffy breasts pushed forward, hips swaying as if she were deliberately trying to entice him. As she brushed past him, she reached out and grazed her fingers across the intricate Native American tattoo imprinted on his bicep. “Interesting tattoo, Trueblood.”
“ Don't…touch me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Her mouth opened in surprise, and she took a step backward. Hurt flashed in her eyes as she asked, “Why do you hate me so much?”
He grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her gently against the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen. “I don't hate you,” he denied in a clipped tone as his gaze roamed over every inch of her—her striking face, those expressive eyes, that succulent body.
“ Liar,” she said with trembling lips.
He took one step forward so his body was pressed against hers. Darcel's eyes widened in surprise as she felt his rock-solid arousal pushing against her middle. He gazed into her eyes, noticing for the first time they had golden brown flecks, so very different from his own obsidian-colored eyes. He reached out and wiped away her milk mustache, gently tracing the shape of her lips before his fingers fell away. “If you don't leave now—”
“ Maybe I don't want to leave,” she whispered.
Without a word, he lifted her up onto the island, knocking items off the counter in the process. The sound of silverware hitting the hardwood floor rang out in the stillness of the kitchen. He reached
“ What are you doing up?” he growled.
Darcel jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him. She raised her hand to her chest and let out a ragged breath. “You scared me.”
She was facing him now, and he sucked in a deep breath as her skimpy outfit clung tightly to her voluptuous curves. If he'd thought her white baby doll top had been steamy, this outfit was bordering on the X-rated. It was way worse than the baby doll top, he realized, as his gaze automatically drifted to the lace camisole and the matching boy shorts. Her boobs were bursting out of the top, so much that he half expected to see her nipples pop out. Her shorts were so tight they looked like panties, and he could clearly see the outline of her mound.
“ I was thirsty,” she explained as she held up her glass of milk.
“ Don't you own anything that fits?” The words popped out of his mouth before he could pull them back in. For some reason he couldn't think straight around this woman.
She tugged down her boy shorts then self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest.
“ I forgot to pack a robe.” Her cheeks reddened under his scrutiny. “I didn't know you were home.”
“ Get outta here,” he said in a strangled voice.
“ Excuse me?” Her voice was filled with outrage.
He took a step toward her. “I'm serious, Darcel. Get outta here.”
“ I just wanted some milk. Chill out.” She turned her back on him and placed the milk carton back in the fridge, her rounded butt cheeks bouncing under the fabric of her boy shorts. Erotic thoughts filled his head as he imagined himself pulling down her shorts and burying himself deeply inside her.
He felt himself harden at the thought of it. He had to forcibly stop himself from taking the five steps it would take to reach her side. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, taking small, shallow breaths to dull his need.
Darcel turned around and reached for her glass of milk, her heart-shaped lips taunting him as she took several gulps with gusto. Trueblood watched as she swallowed several times, her throat muscles convulsing in ripples, until she finally let out a satisfied sigh as she emptied the glass. She wiped her hand across her mouth, missing a spot of milk that lingered above her lip.
He continued to stare at her without speaking, his dark eyes mesmerized by how sexy she looked in her pajamas and how seductively she drank milk. He watched as she walked toward him, shoulders erect, fluffy breasts pushed forward, hips swaying as if she were deliberately trying to entice him. As she brushed past him, she reached out and grazed her fingers across the intricate Native American tattoo imprinted on his bicep. “Interesting tattoo, Trueblood.”
“ Don't…touch me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Her mouth opened in surprise, and she took a step backward. Hurt flashed in her eyes as she asked, “Why do you hate me so much?”
He grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her gently against the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen. “I don't hate you,” he denied in a clipped tone as his gaze roamed over every inch of her—her striking face, those expressive eyes, that succulent body.
“ Liar,” she said with trembling lips.
He took one step forward so his body was pressed against hers. Darcel's eyes widened in surprise as she felt his rock-solid arousal pushing against her middle. He gazed into her eyes, noticing for the first time they had golden brown flecks, so very different from his own obsidian-colored eyes. He reached out and wiped away her milk mustache, gently tracing the shape of her lips before his fingers fell away. “If you don't leave now—”
“ Maybe I don't want to leave,” she whispered.
Without a word, he lifted her up onto the island, knocking items off the counter in the process. The sound of silverware hitting the hardwood floor rang out in the stillness of the kitchen. He reached
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