Page 67 of Receiving His Mercy
She stilled.
“Jesus, you don’t have any shoes on. What were you thinking?” he demanded.
Great. He was mad at her. She closed her eyes, willing the tears to retreat. If she’d broken anything at home, her mother would be mad for ages. She’d usually stop talking to her. Or send her to her room.
She hated that she’d made Travis mad when he’d been nothing but kind to her.
“I’m so sorry! I’ll tidy it all up.”
“You will not.”
Oh God. Did he want her to leave right now? Was he that upset?
Before she could force her eyes open and ask him that, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her straight up into the air. She let out a gasp of shock as she opened her eyes. And then she found herself sitting on the kitchen island.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Getting you away from the glass,” he said. “Did you get any on your feet?”
Caren shook her head. She was still in shock over the way he’d lifted her, carrying her in front of him like a toddler. As though she weighed nothing at all.
“I don’t trust you to know,” he grumbled, grabbing one foot. She had to put her hand behind her to keep herself from flying back. He ran his hand over the base of her foot.
She couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation and she tried to wrench her foot away. “Hey! Let go!”
“No. Now stay still while I check your feet.”
“It’s hard to stay still when you’re tickling me!” she cried.
“Ticklish, huh? Good to know.”
Why would that be good to know? She squealed again as he took hold of her other foot, giving it the same treatment. Then he straightened, placing her foot down. To her shock, he moved closer, putting his hands on the counter on either side of her hips as he leaned against the counter. This meant that her legs had to part to make room for him and he had his firm stomach pressed against her pussy.
That was when she realized that he was only dressed in a pair of loose, gray sweatpants.
Fuck.
Anyone who didn’t think that gray sweatpants were sexy needed their head read. Because they were extremely hot. Especially on a man that had muscles for days. His chest was firm and she wanted to run her hands all over it.
Without thought, she reached out and placed her hand on his pec.
Shit.
It was too much. The only barrier between her pussy touching his bare skin was her panties since she wore a silk nightshirt that had ridden up her thighs.
She just wanted to touch him, to taste him.
“Baby,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “You are pushing my control.”
“I like pushing your control.”
“You might not like what happens if I lose my hold on it.”
Caren leaned forward, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Show me.”
She really needed to learn to guard her words. She didn’t need to give in to every urge she had.
But when his lips touched hers, all she could think about was how she wanted more.
