Her cheeks turned from a post-orgasmic pink to an embarrassed red. “I can’t compete with all this.” Her eyes raked down his stomach and then her fingers followed, stopping just below his navel. The pad of her index finger grazed the head of his cock and sent a current of electricity singing a path straight down his shaft and into his balls.
“Holy shit, Madison, this isn’t a competition, and I’m sure as hell not perfect.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You realize you’re saying this to a man who threw up on his front lawn last night?”
“Yeah, well, that’s better than throwing up in your bed, which is what you’re liable to do if I flash my big ugly belly at you.” If possible, the red staining her cheeks intensified.
Dammit. He should have just torn the stupid T-shirt off her the first night they’d fooled around, and then they’d be past all this by now. But he’d known from day one she battled self-consciousness, and he wanted her to be comfortable. He also wanted her out of the sweater. He slid his hands around back and cupped her ass. “Some of my favorite parts are under here. C’mon, baby, let me take it off. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
She bit her lip, and her gaze drifted to the pillow on “her” side of the bed. “I had this all planned out last night. All the stuff we’d need, and exactly what I’d wear. I was going to surprise you. Everything was going to be perfect.”
Right. And he’d ruined it. He dropped his head in defeat. “Want me to step out while you slip into something more comfortable?”
The appreciative look she aimed at him almost erased his disappointment. “Just turn around and face the wall for a second. This won’t take long.”
He did as she asked, silently reciting square roots in his head to distract himself from the sounds of her shifting around on the bed behind him. After a moment, she said, “Okay. I’m ready. You can turn around now.”
“I don’t know. This ‘face the wall’ business is pretty hot. Maybe I’ll just—”
The smack of her palm across his ass cut him off.
“Excuse me, Miz Foley, did you just spank me? That’s the thanks I get after all my cooperation?” He turned to find her balanced on her knees, wearing one of his old shirts and a poorly stifled grin.
“Want me to kiss it better?”
“You don’t get off that easy.” He leaned in and caught her wrists. “Two can play this game.”
Despite his hold on her wrists, she edged away, putting as much distance as she could between him and her vulnerable backside. “I’m smaller and have a much lower pain threshold.”
“Sounds like stuff you should have thought of before you dished out something you couldn’t take.” He pushed her wrists together and cuffed them in his left hand.
“I bruise easily.”
“Same answer.” With a flick of his arm, he pulled her forward, unbalancing her and jostling a squeak out of her when she spilled across the mattress. Before she could even attempt to get to her knees, he threw a leg over her hips and straddled her. Then he pinned her arms behind her and held her wrists in a loose but unbreakable grip at the small of her back. “This here is what we call a teaching moment.” He slowly raised the T-shirt up to her waist, deliberately taking his time exposing the pale, perfect target. “Are you ready to learn your lesson?”
Chapter Fourteen
Madison blew her hair out of her face and then did her best to twist around and send Hunter a pitiful look.
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Those kitten eyes won’t work on me.” As if to prove it, he lazily circled a finger and drew a bulls-eye on her butt cheek. The feel of his big blunt fingertip swirling over her skin enlivened her hypersensitive nerve endings, and no amount of willpower could keep her from twitching to escape the torture.
His fingers stilled, but she knew a temporary respite when she experienced one. “Why, Madison, are you ticklish?”
She closed her eyes and pressed her face into the comforter to smother the laughter welling in her chest. “No.” The comforter muffle
d her bald-faced lie but not her helpless scream when he tickled her again—longer and more vigorously this time. She laughed, and squirmed, and sucked in heavy, desperate breaths when he stopped for a moment, then she screamed yet again when he attacked the other cheek.
She heard him laughing, too, and the last slivers of nervousness inside her melted away. Trust Hunter to keep things playful and fun, despite all her crazy hang-ups.
He leaned over her, his voice low and teasing in her ear. “Say, ‘Hunter Knox, you own my pretty little ass.’”
“No wa—aahhhh. Nooooo!” Those wicked fingers attacked again, and reduced her to a twisting, sweating mess.
“Say it.”
“Hu-Hunter Kn-Kn-Knox”—she dragged in a much needed lungful of air and then spat the rest out in a rush—“You own my prettylittleass!”