Page 7 of The Ruckup
After spending the past hour listening to loud men boasting about bullshit, the room seems stunningly quiet. Quiet enough I can easily make out Leo’s movements as he comes closer. The approach of his giant, well-muscled frame sends a zing of excitement sparking along my spine and warmth blooming in my belly.
“Better?” His voice is a deep rumble at my back.
I barely suppress a shiver at the way it flows through me. A soothing balm after the shrill cut of the inebriated voices I was subjected to in the great room.
I turn my head, peeking at Leo over one shoulder. “Better.”
My breath catches at how close he is. How good he smells. How much bigger he is than I realized.
Sitting next to him on the sofa hadn’t prepared me for how much taller Leo is than me. Or how broad his chest is and how thick his arms and thighs are. The man is huge. It should be unnerving. Terrifying even, since I know exactly what can happen when a man uses his strength against you.
But I’m not scared of Leo. If anything, being with him makes me feel safe. Safer than I’ve felt in a long time. He’s big enough to hold his own against just about anything or anyone, and that’s really freaking appealing.
Then again, most of him is really freaking appealing.
Everything except the ridiculous shirt he’s wearing.
I point at the cotton stretched tight across his pecs. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten into naked surfing.”
Leo’s chin tucks, eyes drifting down the faded logo printed into the worn knit. His blond brows pinch together. “What the fuck, Dan?” He sighs, head falling back, eyes pinching shut. “I should have known. My dad can’t own a normal freaking shirt.”
“That’s awfully judgmental for a man who was wearing a ‘Balls Deep in Christmas’ shirt when I got here.”
The words have barely cleared my lips before they automatically press together as my stomach turns. It's a habit—or maybe a trauma response—to instantly regret saying anything except the nicest of nice. To worry what might come back at me.
But the slow curve of Leo’s sinfully well-shaped lips has the tightness in my gut easing right away. “Is that your way of letting me know you were looking for me when you walked in?”
My eyes move over him, tracing Leo from head to toe, taking him in all on their own. “You are kind of hard to miss.”
Leo inches closer. “You’re not so easy to miss yourself, Miss Miller.”
It feels so good to be called that name again. To feel like maybe there’s a chance I might be able to be who I was before.
Even though I know I’ll never be that girl again. The one who thought people were good and love was simple and safe.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I lift my gaze to Leo’s face. “What should we talk about?”
The dim light of the room casts shadows across his handsome features, making them seem more angular. Harsher. On anyone else it might look a little scary. Possibly even sinister.
Not on Leo. On Leo it just makes him look like the sort of Greek god someone would want to carve into marble. Strong. Unyielding. Unbreakable. Steady.
His voice is soft when he asks, “Is that what you want to do? Talk?”
Honestly, I don’t even know what I want. I know what IwishI could want. But the rules of my life have changed, and I don’t know where the lines are. What is acceptable and what’s not.
Or if I even care.
Licking my lips like it will help ease the nerves making my mouth dry, I hedge, “I’m open to suggestions.”
“I’ve got a few ideas.” Leo gives me an easy smile that does nothing to prepare me for what he says next. “But fair warning, most of them involve taking your panties off.”
It’s probably a good thing my mouth is a little dry or I would have choked on my spit at the way he goes right for the kill. No minced words with this man. Leo’s come a long way since his days of being an awkward, gangly, teenage boy sporting braces and a bad haircut. There’s no hesitation in his game. No bashfulness. He just jumps right in and lays it out.
And while I don’t mind jumping, I’ve learned how hard landing can be, so I have limits. “I’m not having sex with you, Leo.”
My rejection doesn’t faze him. If anything, he seems happy about it. “No one said anything about sex, Miss Miller.” His tone is almost teasing. “I don’t plan on taking any of my clothes off.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better. “I’m not getting naked while our parents and everyone they know are twenty feet away.”
