Page 24 of Bracing The Storm

His chest is all sculpted muscles, hard beneath taut, bronze skin. A tattoo—something tribal that resembles a dragon—adorns most of the left side of his upper body, from his shoulder down his arm and the front of his chest. A trail of dark hair leads down his torso to averydefined V and a tiny, white towel that’s supposed to hide the rest.

It doesn’t do a particularly good job.

Huge.

That’s the only word that springs to mind.

I swallow hard, then swallow some more as I realize he’s standing so close I could reach out my hand and touch him, see if he’s real and as delectable as he looks. The thought sends a blush to my face. What happened to my brain? I’m starting to feel like a hormone-driven teenage girl who’s ogling the hot guy next door.

“What’s wrong, woman? A herd of elephants been chasing you?”

His deep rumble penetrates through the walls of my mind, sending a delicious shiver through me.

Even his voice is out of this world. All low and deep, with an accent that seems to be able to find its way into your panties whether you like it or not.

I look up into his eyes and find him smiling, eyebrows raised.

“I see you’ve found my face. It sure took you a while to realize it’s not glued to my crotch,” Patrick says.

My entire face catches fire.

He noticed!

I groan inwardly, fighting the need to bury my burning face in my hands. I narrow my eyes at him, ready to stare him down.

“I wasn’t staring at anything because there’s nothing to stare at. I’ve seen plenty ofthatin my life, and trust me when I say, I’m not impressed.”

His smirk doesn’t falter. Not even a bit. “You would be, if you had a proper look.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “That towel of yours leaves little to the imagination. I can tell what’s down there from a mile, and nope, not impressed.” I don’t give him a chance to come up with a comeback; I just press the box into his naked arms, careful not to touch the silky smooth skin or the hard muscles or anything at all.

“Your package,” I say pointedly.

His grin widens. His eyes stare right at me, shimmering with challenge. “What about it? Want to see how impressed you’d be after all?”

I roll my eyes again. “The one in your arms. Not the one that seems to be the home of your brain.” I point at the white box in his arms in case I’m right and his dick does all the thinking. I wouldn’t be surprised. “It was left on my doorstep. Obviously, I had to open it.”

“Of course.” He nods in agreement with a mock serious expression on his face that screams he’s taking none of this seriously. “And what did you find inside it?”

His question leaves me stumbling for words for a moment. Either he doesn’t know what’s in the box or he’s winding me up. I bet it’s the latter and he wants me to spell it all out, embarrassing myself while he’s having a laugh at my expense.

Dammit!

I went through all possible reactions, but I sure didn’t see this one coming. I don’t know when the tables turned, but they sure did in his favor.

I’m not going to bite. There’s no way in hell he’s having the upper hand.

“Something to wear. You might want to inform your lady friend she got the wrong door,” I say coolly.

Ha! That showed him.

I cross my arms over my chest, only realizing I’m actually pushing my breasts up when his gaze travels down my neck, settling on the two pointed peaks pushing through the thin fabric of my shirt.

His smirk is back in place as he nods appreciatively at my breasts, like he’s having a private conversation with them. He made fun of me for looking at his crotch when he’s basically talking to my breasts.

“Do people still say ‘lady friend’?” Patrick says. “I thought that expression died down with the invention of the typewriter in the nineteenth century.”

“It’s a very common expression. You would probably be familiar with it if you bought a dictionary, maybe even attended a few classes instead of living in your parents’ house at your age and walking around wearing nothing but a towel. Responsible adults go to work and earn a living,” I say. I don’t know how old he is. Maybe late twenties. Definitely a few years older than I am. But I’m pretty sure my impression of him is spot on. Whatdoeshe do all day long?

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