Page 10 of Comin' in Hot
What is it with these Malibu twenty-something men refusing to wear clothes?
I love it.Stop it.
His bright green eyes fill with amusement as he smirks. It makes me blush. I’m too old to blush. Get it together, Margot.
“In my defense,” he offers in a raspy baritone, “you said, ‘Come in, I’m waiting.’”
I scoff-laugh, half-embarrassed, half at a loss for words. He’s just so…so…and muscular too. Which is exactly why I speak without thinking.
“No, I didn’t,” I level as my eyes accidentally drop to the deep-set lines on each side of his lower stomach.
I heard someone call them “cum gutters” once, and now I can’t stop thinking about that.
Which is why I add, “I said cum…” I shake my head and snap my fingers to correct myself, even though my new answer sounds the same. “Cooome on… I said, ‘Come on,’ as in ‘Hurry up.’I wanted to see—”
Jesus Christ.
I stop mid-sentence, suddenly remembering why I was begging for expediency.And he heard me. Oh god.
I’m hemorrhaging pride, and there’s no end to this assassination.
My eyes grow wide as I lift my finger like there’s a point to make, but I don’t say anything. Because the panic is real.
And he just keeps smiling at me.
An embarrassed laugh leaves my chest as he tilts his head and licks his goddamn lips.
Perfect lips.
What is wrong with me? I’ve literally turned into a man. First, I sexualize beach first responders, Hasselhoff heroes. And now this poor man, who probably thinks I’m insane.
I am.
But that’s not what he says. He says, “What exactly were you hoping to see, Margot?”
He knows my name.Hot stranger knows my name. And the way it rolls off his tongue completely throws me off.
“I mean, ummm…” I swallow. “I actually…um…who are you?”
He squats down in front of me.Wow, those are thighs. Oof.
I have a sickness. I need professional help.
“Wells,” he offers along with a handshake, and I can’t help but notice how thick his fingers are.
“Nice to meet you,” I say too breathily, adding quickly, “And why are you here?”
He stands again, not answering, but that makes my brain shift into gear before my feet scramble to get me back onto them.
My eyes are on his perfectly sculpted back as I try to fix my hair without a mirror. That is, until I realize he’s walking toward the window.
The one I was basically licking like a dog.
Shit. Shit. Shit.I’m panicked as he speaks, not looking at me.
“I could’ve sworn I heard you say, ‘Show me the goods,’” he says in an almost teasing way, but I overreact. Of course I do.
“No, nope.” I shake my head vigorously. “I’ve never actually said anything in this room until now. This is the first time I’ve spoken today.”
