Hot Commodity (Banks / Kincaid Family #1)(15)

He shuddered and wanted.

"Honestly," he said, wincing at the pinching constriction in his pants. "Can you put some clothes on already? I can’t concentrate when you’re all…" He waved his hand toward the sheet.

She lifted her eyebrows. "And me dropping this sheet to reach for my clothes is going to help that—how?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gotcha," he muttered and turned away so his back was to her. "Better?"

She didn’t answer, but he heard bed springs shift and squeak as she hopped off the mattress. He was tempted to swing around and say, 'boo', just to irritate her. But he figured he’d gotten on her nerves enough in the past five minutes.

Yes, the honeymoon was definitely over.

When he heard a muttered curse behind him, he chanced a glance over his shoulder. What he saw had him stopping dead. "Whoa." He paused and shook his head to clear the nasty thoughts.

Olivia had dressed. Well, she’d dressed as much as she could. She no longer wore the fishnet hose but stood in a skirt—a very leather, very tight, very short black skirt—and a top, which consisted of a black bit of leather that barely covered her tits. She held the gaping middle together with both hands.

After letting out a low, appreciative whistle, Cameron mused, "Now I see how you coaxed me into marriage."

His wife scowled. She lifted a frayed leather strap he had to guess once held her top together. "You ruined my blouse."

Blouse? Cameron was trying to figure how that thing could possibly be referred to as a blouse when she suddenly crossed her arms over her chest, restricting his fine view. He lifted his face in time to catch her full glare.

Grinning, he shrugged. "Can’t imagine why I would’ve done such a thing."

She fumed. "What am I supposed to wear? This is...it’s ruined."

"Hmm," was his only answer as his eyelids drooped heavily. He licked his lips as he thought up all the things he’d prefer to use in order to cover those full, lush breasts.

"I’m serious," she cried.

He sighed, his daydream dissolving at her scowl. "Oh, for God’s sake. It’s not the end of the world." He motioned distractedly toward his luggage on the floor. "I’ve got a whole suitcase full of shirts you can wear.

Take your pick."

She eyed the pile of clothing uneasily.

"I don’t have cooties," he groused. Then he grinned. "Besides, I think I already passed them on if I did."

She blanched, probably remembering just how many cooties they’d swapped.

Ashamed for bringing it up, he sighed. "I don’t have any venereal cooties either, by the way."

She didn’t answer, daintily tiptoeing across the floor toward his suitcase to retrieve a pinstriped button up dress shirt. Unable to resist, his eyes gobbled the view. The woman was hot—hot in an all caps, triple underlined, bold font kind of hot. It was a relief to know he didn’t lower his standards when he was blubbering drunk. He could still pick the beauties even with his beer goggles on.

Her face looked young. With her wide blue eyes, full rosy cheeks, small pert nose and full bottom lip, the black leather she wore made her seem like a little girl who was playing dress up. Her body however, was all woman, curvy, with rounded hips and plush D-cup breasts. Her ass was nice and tight and Cameron couldn’t help but watch it and want as she bent over to slip on her four inch strappy sandals.

As she straightened, he grinned. Talk about playing dress up. The shirt she’d chosen was so long, it more than covered the tiny black skirt underneath and nearly came down to her knees. Wearing stilettos and a man’s shirt, she was definitely the image of a little girl who’d found her way into Mom and Dad’s closet.

"God, you’re adorable," he blurted out before he could properly check his words.

He didn’t particularly want her to know how much she turned him on, though the huge hard-on he’d pointed at her two minutes ago might’ve already clued her in. Still.

She scowled, not appreciating his praise.

He cleared his throat. "So, let’s talk."

She retreated a step, sending him a leery look. "Talk about what?"

"Gee, how about the weather?" At a bewildered blink of her long lashes, he sighed and rolled his eyes. "About the fact that we just got married. What do you think I want to discuss? Good Lord, woman."

"I think I’d rather talk about the weather." His wife’s features took on dry sarcasm as she rolled up the cuffs on his shirt until she could find her hands.

"Well, tough. I want to know how this happened."

She gritted her teeth. "You were there. Why do I need to tell you anything?"

"For starters, I was drunk and half of my memory’s been erased."

"Then maybe you shouldn’t have been drinking."

Cameron’s face flamed with color. Alcohol was a tender subject with him; he’d already received enough flak about it from people he actually cared about. He didn’t want to hear a word from this little fluff ball.

But instead of blowing up, he controlled his temper and held his breath, counting to ten. When he felt a smidgeon cooler, he exhaled and said, "Okay, let’s start fresh." Holding out a hand, he said, "Hi. I’m Cameron Banks. It’s nice to meet you."