Page 5 of Romancing the Orc

Lara’s eyes go wide, and she squirms on her stool. “I… I don’t—”

Rustles and murmurs go through the auditorium as the audience gets restless, which only makes my mate more uneasy.

No. I cannot allow it.

I leap to my feet and push my stool back out of the way. Sherrie’s words buzz in the back of my mind like an annoying pixie, and I bat them away. My mate needs the audience to turn their attention elsewhere, and there’s one thing that always works to distract romance readers.

“Who wants me to take off my shirt?”

CHAPTER THREE

Lara

I know he didnotjust do that!

But he did.

Every damned time he goes anywhere, people demand he take his shirt off. And he does! Besides him being shirtless on my book covers, there are a million pics all over the internet. Shirtless at a fan convention, check. Shirtless at the grocery store, check. Shirtless in the middle of Times Square, if you can believe it!

Brokk stands at the front of the stage, gesturing for the crowd to yell louder.

They do. Oh, man, do they fucking yell. Soon the cavernous room echoes with the chant “Shirt off! Shirt off! Shirt off!”

Brokk tosses me a wicked smirk. Then his huge hands fist the fabric over each pec and rip the front of his shirt open. Buttons go flying, pinging across the stage.

The audience loses its collective mind. They surge to their feet, screaming. A million cameras flash like someone set off a massive New Year’s Eve firework inside the auditorium.

He shrugs the fabric from his shoulders and lets it drop to the stage, the muscles of his chest rippling in a fascinating display. I’ve watched a million fan videos of this moment.

None of them compare to seeing it in person, only a few feet from me. God, if I could get off this stool without breaking my neck, I’m close enough I could touch all that green skin.

Chelsea better not ask me any more questions, because my ability to verbalize crumpled to the stage floor along with Brokk’s shirt.

My mouth goes dry, my eyes roaming over every exposed inch. He’s not only built like a god, he also truly looks like an orc. How does he get the green makeup to be so perfect? Even the middle of his back looks great. I can’t get the relatively tiny area that is my face to have such even coverage.

He turns from waving to the adoring crowd and catches me ogling him. There’s that knowing smirk again.

Dammit. I hadn’t meant to be so obvious. I’d even put it on my list! I jerk my eyes away so hard my whole body moves. My toes slide off the rung of the stool, the heels catching and making me wobble.

In a flash, he’s by my side, those big hands steadying my shoulders.

I cling to him… only this time I’m clinging to bare skin. God, he even smells good! Like leather and pine. I sway forward unintentionally and barely stop myself before burying my nose against his chest.

Do not huff the hot cover model, Lara!

Brokk lifts me from the stool effortlessly and sets me on my feet. Then he walks us to the front of the stage to wave to everyone.

“Lara! You didn’t answer your final question.” Chelsea hops forward, microphone extended toward me. Damn, this chick is not letting that go. This question wasn’t on the prepared list we agreed to, either, so I’ve got nothing.

Dick joke. Remember your dick jokes!

I had a list prepared, but standing here beside a shirtless Brokk, all I manage to mutter is, “What can I say? Once you go monster peen, you never go back.”

The audience roars, especially when Brokk nods and points at me and starts doing a big stadium clap.

They all leave their seats, crowding close to the stage, yelling and screaming his name.

As he always does, Brokk lets them pull him down into the crowd. But right before he gives them his full attention, he glances back over his shoulder, shoots me a knowing look, and tilts his head toward the side of the stage.

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