His hands drop to the button on his jeans, drawing my attention to the taut abs on display. He unzips, shoves down the denim, and kicks it away. The tight black briefs leave little to the imagination, and his unruly hair looks sexier now than it did when he styled it this morning.
I have to avert my eyes to focus on what he said. “I’m forty years old, Decker. If I skip my beauty regime—”
“You’ll still be the second hottest woman in existence.”
The second? A smile pulls at my lips. “Who’s the first?”
“Megan Fox,” he says in a tone that blows past of course and goes straight to facepalm.
“Yeah, Megan’s a sweetheart. She’s also married. They’ve been together since she was eighteen.” I sigh. “When he’s not riding her coattails, he’s holding her back from her career. It’s a shame.”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of men.”
“There’s a lot of assholes in my industry.”
“You know…” His fingers curl around mine. “I was teasing you about Megan Fox.”
“You don’t have to say that. I’m not—”
“I mean it. You have a classy, vivacious kind of beauty that no one can mimic. The kind of beauty that turns me into an idiot every time I look at you.”
His compliment hits me in the knees. Why does he have to be so nice? He’s thoughtful and charming and impossible to resist.
So was Blake. Until he got what he wanted from me—a successful career. What’s Decker’s motivation?
Your smile. Your body. Rigorous, mutually-pleasurable, savage sex.
If sex with me is his incentive, what will he do after he gets it?
The scars on my back twinge at the thought.
He circles behind me and rests his hands on my hips. “I’m going to remove your jeans.” Hovering his mouth over my shoulder, he breathes against my neck. “I’ll let you keep the panties on…tonight.”
Goosebumps race up my spine, and I grab the hands inching toward my fly. “Wait.”
“Laynee.” His voice is deep and measured, stroking all my pleasure centers. “I know I said no questions, but I need to ask.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Were you attacked from the front or the back?”
I close my eyes, grateful he can’t see the shame contorting my face. “The front.”
“So when I’m facing you and wrapping my arms around your back…”
“It can be a trigger. Sometimes.” I stare at my feet, breathing through the crushing handicap of my emotions. “Not always.”
“Okay.” Remaining behind me, he unbuttons my fly and hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband.
My pulse quickens. “I need to at least moisturize my face.”
I need to escape the seductive heat of his chest against my back, the drugging scent of his masculinity, and the confident fingers dipping into my pants. But when I pull away, he yanks me right back.
“If you go in that bathroom, you won’t come out for an hour. I’ll get the fucking lotion.” He wriggles my jeans down my hips and stops to spread his hands over my lace-covered butt cheeks. “Jesus, your ass is incredible. Standing here in your panties and all those scars, you look like a badass warrior princess.”
I laugh, because it’s just so…unexpected. He is unexpected.
After he removes my jeans, he drops a kiss on my neck and heads to the bathroom with a gait that’s so fundamentally male and powerful. He’s impeccably built, from the breadth of his shoulders and the inverted V of his back to his tight ass and sinewy calves. After training with him for a month on the wrestling mats, I’ve become achingly familiar with every muscular inch of his body.
When he disappears beyond the doorway, I sit cross-legged on my side of the bed and hold the covers against my chest. He returns a moment later, carrying a bottle of body lotion.
“That’s not facial moisturizer.” I tuck the sheet beneath my arms, wearing it like a bath towel.
He stares at the label in confusion. “It’s lotion.”
For dry elbows. It’ll probably clog my pores and give me acne, but whatever. He fetched it for me when he could’ve been a dick about it. I hold out my hand, silently asking for the bottle.
“Lie back.” He kneels on the mattress beside me and squirts a dollop on his fingers.
“You’re going to do it?” Another laugh escapes my lips. When was the last time I laughed this much?
“Yes. Why is that so funny?”
“I don’t know.” Grinning, I lower to my back and hold the sheet to my chest. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Can’t be any different than applying sun lotion.” He catches the grimace on my face. “I’ve never put any kind of lotion on a woman.” He leans over me, straddles one of my thighs, and smears the cream across my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, and on my cheeks. “Your jealousy turns me on.”