Page 65 of Fierce-Baker

But he couldn’t forget the way she’d saidI can’t wait another day.

Hell, he couldn’t either. Which didn’t help him get much sleep last night.

He pulled into his driveway, snatched the bottle off the passenger seat, and jogged to his door.

He showered fast, trimmed the scruff on his jaw so he was a little more presentable, changed into shorts he didn’t work in and the shirt she’d once said made his chest and arms look “super scrumptious.”

He was just putting his sneakers on when he heard the bell go off. No clue who it could have been, but opened the door and went down the stairs to see Tasha standing there waving through the glass of his door.

“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t wait. I felt as if I was pacing around my place. If I was going to walk that much I might as well come here. I hope that is okay?”

“It’s fine. Come in,” he said. “I was just getting ready.”

“No rush,” she said. “Unless you’re on a schedule. You didn’t say what was planned today.”

“It’s a surprise. But we’ve got time. I’ll show you around if you want, but it’s just like your place.”

“Only on the second floor,” she said, marching up behind him on the stairs. “You smell good.”

“I just got out of the shower,” he said. “I’ve got something for you too.”

“So two surprises?” she asked, putting her hands on her cheeks in excitement. She was hamming it up, but that was fine with him too.

He enjoyed her when she was like this.

“I guess it is two, but not a big one.” He moved to the kitchen and her eyes landed on the bottle standing there. “It’s hitting the shelves on Monday. I said you’d get the first bottle.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you. Maybe we can have a glass of it tonight. You could bring over something else for you if you want, since this probably isn’t your thing.”

“You’ve got a few beers left, so I’ll be fine.”

She followed him into his room where he was grabbing a change of clothes for the night. She’d asked him to stay and he wasn’t saying no when he didn’t know when the next time they’d get a chance would be.

“I dressed the way you said. Are you going to tell me what we are doing today?”

She had jean shorts on, sturdy walking sneakers on her feet, and a peach T-shirt fitted to her curves with the hem resting right at the waist.

Damn.

She had one smoking body on her, and he was never—never—going to get enough of it.

Not thin and delicate.

But strong. Real. Things that invaded his dreams nightly.

Muscles in her thighs that flexed when she shifted her weight. Shoulders that showed she carried her kid, and carried her life without flinching. Curves that didn’t shy away or apologize for existing. She wore them like armor. Like truth that a real woman didn’t have to be five foot nine and weigh a hundred pounds.

That petite strength was sexier than a model on a runway.

She was proud of what she had, and she didn’t hide a damn thing.

His eyes swept down her legs, back up to that peach-colored stretch of cotton hugging her chest, then finally to her face,where she was smirking at him like she already knew exactly what he was thinking.

She cleared her throat and held his stare. “Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I can’t get enough of you.”

“Well then, give me a minute to do that same to you.”