Page 8 of Bad At Love

His chest was liberally sprinkled with hair. Doing abs and crunches with TJ who used DP as his guinea pig, and the rock-climbing and mountain hiking meant he was in good shape. His stomach jutted out like a barrel, densely muscled.

Like ice sliding down his heated skin, her gaze followed the rise and fall of his chest. Throat thick with desire, he played with his belt buckle. Her own throat bobbed up and down, a soft flush claiming her cheeks.

She wanted him. The realization rocked his world. A ringing erupted in his ears and his lungs gasped for breath. “Char?” he said, his entire world pulsing in that word.

“You look good, DP,” she said, her voice husky, managing the sudden arc of heat between them with that casual, no-nonsense attitude. “Guess TJ’s putting you through the paces, huh?”

Blood slowed like honey in his veins as he shrugged off the shirt. The tips of their fingers touched when he handed it to her. His body thrummed as he put his sweater vest back on.

Her long exhale coated his mouth as he helped her push her stiff arm through the armhole. Gently clasping her fingers, he turned her wrist over. The damned cuffs had left dark red ridges on the sensitive skin. “I wish you would screen these assholes better,” he said before he could stop himself.

She clasped his cheek in that affectionate gesture she always used. “I swear he was harmless. His ego, on the other hand…”

Nodding, DP shot to his feet and collected her purse.

Minutes later, Chaaru joined him in the living room. His shirt barely covered her upper thighs, the outline of her pink panties an alluring sight. There was something infinitely intimate about seeing her clad in his shirt, engulfed by the heat of his body.

“Ready to go?” he said, his tone gruff.

“Yep. Just one more thing,” she said, then picked up the pizza box and six cans of beer. Catching his gaze, she tucked her arm through his and they stepped out together.

4

Chaaru followed DP down the elegant corridors of the high-rise, trembling from the aftereffects of their little eye-fuck.

How had a little moment got her so hot and bothered? Had that been a wicked glint in DP’s brown eyes daring her to keep her eyes on him?

Also, how had she not noticed, in all these years of his campouts and sleepovers with Kaasi, that DP was built like a freaking truck that she wanted to ride all hours?

There was nothing lean or boyish about his frame like the poser painter. His chest and abdomen were substantial, a thick line of hair disappearing under his belt that she wanted to follow like a treasure trail.

Yes, she’d known DP had an active lifestyle, mountain hiking and what-not, but damn, the man was putting accountants on the map as wet-dream material.

Without her permission, her eyes did a quick sweep of his broad shoulders and his thick biceps. If his chest looked like that, what did his thighs look like? What did his…cock look like?

Her belly rolled and it had nothing to do with the elevator car zooming down.

Christ, Chaaru, have some shame,she heard in the voice of her older sister Shanti, who’d forever tried to shame Chaaru for one thing or another.

Although in this case, maybe it was better to heed her sister’s annoying warning. Maybe some lines shouldn’t be crossed, even in her thoughts.

“Everything okay?” DP asked, breaking the loaded silence.

Chaaru met his gaze in the full-length mirror that framed them together as if for a picture. The hem of his white shirt skimming her upper thighs and her hair in a disarray, she looked like a cheap, middle-aged hooker who got fired.

He, on the other hand, looked yummy enough to lick up, with his thick hair shining wetly from the rain, and his biceps bulging with definition. If she pressed back one step, his large frame would engulf her.

Suddenly, she wanted more than anything to sink into his hard warmth, to let those rough hands of his play with her however he wanted. Just imagining it made her spine tingle and shivers wracked her.

“What’s wrong?” DP said, his scowl turning ferocious. “If he did something more, Char, I swear to God I’m calling TJ and his wannabe motorbike gang and-”

“God, no,” she said, feeling ashamed that he worried about her while she was spinning a sexual fantasy starring him. “I wouldn’t have let him lay a finger on me. He’s already forgotten.”

His relieved exhale played with the tiny hairs on her nape. “Good!”

When his fingers landed on her shoulders, she jumped. And then tried to laugh to cover it up. The fake sound surrounded them in the small space.

“You’re jumpy,” he said, stating the obvious.

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