Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(66)

Of course, part of the problem with that was that his nosy neighbor, Mrs. Evans, had seen my car, and she was running a bag of trash out to the can at the exact moment I got out of the car.

“Helloooo, dear!” She wriggled her fingers at me, a giant smile on her face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Evans,” I called back, holding my hand up in greeting.

“Dinner with dear West?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She excitedly pursed her lips. “Well, you two have fun, won’t you?”

“Thank you.” I smiled and waved again as she disappeared inside her house. Did she keep something by her front door for times like these?

West’s door opened almost immediately. He stared across the street for a moment before he even acknowledged my presence by pushing the door wide open. “She means well, but I think she has something by her door at all times.”

“I literally just thought the exact same thing.”

“Great.” He took my hand and pulled me up onto the step next to him. “Now, I know she’ll be watching, so don’t kill me for this.”

He clasped the side of my neck and dropped his mouth to mine. I’d expected him to do it, but I was shocked all the same. I leaned into him, practically melting against him as his lips moved across mine so tenderly and honestly that my toes curled inside my shoes.

I felt warm everywhere, and I almost forgot why I was fighting against this.

Almost. Not quite.

West pulled back from me and slowly opened his eyes. The raw honesty I saw reflected back at me clenched at my heart.

That was, perhaps, the realest touch we’d ever shared.

And we both knew it.

“I thought you said you’d keep your hands to yourself,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

“I did.” His eyes flipped from raw and emotional to playful in seconds. “During dinner. I made no promises about before or after it.”

“West Rykman, you are a sneaky little shit.”

He grinned, grabbed my hands, and pulled me into his house. He shoved the door shut behind me, and then he cupped my face and kissed me once more.

It felt exactly the same.

From the soft pressure of his lips on mine to the dizzy hum of delight through my body to the way my heart beat double time.

It felt like the more I was so hesitant about, but I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t make myself step away from him and break the contact. I couldn’t pull my lips from his, because damn it all, he was right.

He did own me.

West Rykman owned my body, and he owned it entirely. It was almost as if he’d cast a spell over me that meant I couldn’t fight him, that I had to surrender, because when it came to his touch, there was no reasoning with myself.

I craved it.

I craved the sensation of his skin against mine. Craved the way I felt when he ran his hands up my sides. When he kissed me. When he dragged his mouth over my neck. When his lips brushed my ear when he whispered dirty things to me.

More dangerously, I craved him.

He was a natural disaster of immense force, and the devastation he’d leave me with would be irreparable. I was sure of it. He’d shaken my world up in more ways than he’d ever know, because telling him... It was crazy.

Impossible.

“Come out to the deck,” he said, finally releasing me but keeping my face between his palms. “I’m grilling steak out there.”

“Okay.” I followed him when he dropped his hands. I set my purse on one of the pristine kitchen counters and went out to the back deck. It was still early, so the sun was still visible in the sky, but the roof of the deck blocked most of its glare out.

I pulled my shoes off as I curled up on the rattan sofa with bright-blue cushions. I hadn’t really paid attention to it before, but now, I loved it. The black-and-white, stripy throw pillows that adorned it lent it a certain modern charm, and I wondered if he’d picked it out himself.

I had to admit that I couldn’t see this six-foot-three hunk with muscle on top of his muscle strolling around Ikea with a cart.

I could, however, see him grilling steaks on that big-ass machine at the other end of the deck. A beer bottle was sitting on the side bit that jutted out, and he swigged from it before stepping back and pulling his shirt over his head.

I gulped.

Didn’t even swallow. It was a legit gulp that was probably heard from outer space.

His back was a piece of art. The way the muscles dipped and curved in their natural ways. The way even his shoulder muscles just crept up, something I rarely saw when he was wearing a shirt. The dimples at the base of his back, right above his butt.

Lord...he was hot.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll skip the steak,” he warned.

“How do you know if I’m even looking at you? You have your back to me.”

“I know. And I know how you look at me.”

“How is that, oh smart one?”

He peered back at me over his shoulder, a shit-eating, smug-as-hell grin on his face. “Like you want to push me over and ride me.”

Well...that was pretty hard to argue with. I was relatively close to thinking such a thing now, if I was honest with myself—and, after the two kisses we’d just shared, being honest with myself was something I needed to start doing. Fast.

“Can I ask you a question?” I needed to change the subject and fast.