Page 59 of Reckless Hearts

Maverick’s dark eyes roam over me, devouring my reaction, a devious smirk slicing his lips just before he removes his shirt completely.

I inhale sharply, lungs constricting at the delicious view he’s given me.

Muscles seem to multiply as I progress from his large chest, down his abs, and follow the corded line that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.

All I hear is static, as every inch of him is displayed.

“Y… you’re hot?” I stutter unintentionally, my brain completely melted.

Maverick huffs out a laugh, looking altogether too pleased with himself. “Yeah, that’s why I took my shirt off.”

“You’re not playing fair, asshole.” Colt reaches back and pulls his white T-shirt over his head in one fluid movement.

He’s only inches away, beside me on the blanket.

He flexes under my attention and leans in close enough that I can feel the heat wafting off him.

Frozen in place, I can’t look away. Any rational thoughts have left the building, and I’m seconds from spontaneously combusting.

He reaches over me, his arm brushing mine, and it feels like he’s branded me with his touch.

The bastard just smiles, sitting back in his place.

It takes me a second to realize he’s grabbed the container of fruit, and now he’s pulling out a triangular piece of watermelon.

I close my eyes and groan when his teeth sink into it in a last-ditch effort to maintain any sense of sanity.

There’s rustling, but I refuse to look.

These dickheads know exactly what they’re doing to me, and it’s so not fair.

Damn their competitive nature.

What happened to harmless teasing?

When did it change to who can cause me to soak my panties first?

“Alright, leave her alone for a bit. She looks like she can use a break,” Maverick says, amused.

I glare at him through slitted eyes, not trusting whatever he’s up to.

Colt rises first, grabbing two fishing poles and a black rectangle that I recognize immediately.

“Where did you find it?”

“Stuck under the back seat.”

I gasp, cradling my missing Kindle to my chest like a lifeline. Not having it during the long drives has been a special form of torture. Grateful that I got it back, I kiss the device. It’s the best chance I have to dissociate enough to ignore the fact that these two are halfway to being naked.

Thank you, fictional hot hockey players. Thank you.

Even with my book to distract me, I still can’t help but look up.

They’re fishing, but I’m not sure you could use the wordtogether.

Each of them are on opposite sides of the dock, facing away from the other.

At this point, I can’t imagine spending that much energy just to hate someone.

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