LITMIR.BIZ

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a second round of margaritas, they moved on to Greek salad, sourdough bread, gourmet cheeses, and Cornish game hens roasted with an orange-honey glaze.

      “Three hens?” she asked.

      “Three’s the magic number.” He winked. “One for you, two for me. But I’ll share mine if you ask nicely.”

      She eyed the kiwi fruit, papaya with lime, and chocolate-chip cookies he’d set out. “I’m saving room for dessert.”

      He shot her a suggestive look. “Or we could go for calorie-free dessert.”

      That gaze did heat her blood, but she was a sucker for chocolate chips. “Or both.”

      Nick proved to be easy company, except that his half-naked body was far too distracting. Hard not to compare to her ex, Don. Yes, he’d been attractive, but in a metrosexual way. Slim, with stylish hair and fashionable clothes. Nick, on the other hand, was packed with muscle. His dark, shiny hair was mussy and on the long side. A definite jeans guy. The kind whose reaction to designer labels would be a snort.

      He was overwhelmingly masculine. And she loved it.

      She also enjoyed the way he touched her. His fingers brushing her lips as he offered her a morsel of food or drifting across her cheek as he tucked hair behind her ear. His toes tickling the sole of her foot, his knee nudging her as he shifted position. He was not only masculine but physical.

      With him, she was more in tune with her own physicality. Flavors were more intense, scents more tantalizing. The catchy beach tunes resonated within her. Her body hummed with awareness of Nick—the residual glow of great sex and the buzzy anticipation of more to come.

      But she was content to wait and savor the moment as well as the anticipation.

      When she finished her second chocolate-chip cookie, she sprawled back on the towel. “That was wonderful. I may never eat again. Or move.”

      “No need to.” Nick shifted the leftovers to the coffee table and went to put on another CD. “Relax. Listen to the waves.” He came to lie beside her.

      Instead of summer songs, this album had ocean sounds. Waves, whale song, gulls crying. “Nice,” she said. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe she was at the beach.

      But she’d rather watch Nick, who was propping himself on one elbow as he smiled at her.

      Karen had definitely done Jude a favor when she’d gifted her with this man.

      Speaking of which…

      “Put your T-shirt back on,” she told him.

      “Huh?” His forehead furrowed. “You’re not calling it quits for the evening?”

      “Oh, no. I’m just getting started.”

      His lips curved uncertainly. “Okay. If you want me dressed, I’ll get dressed.” He sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, hiding a torso that belonged on a hunky-guys calendar. “Better?”

      “Yes, for what I have in mind.”

      He cocked a brow. “And that is?”

      “You’ve come over twice, and both times you’ve stripped off your clothes.”

      “And that was a bad thing?” The brow went higher. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

      “It was bad because you’re supposed to be my present. And half the fun with a present is unwrapping it.”

      His face relaxed, and he chuckled. “Got ya. Gee, sorry, next time I’ll come complete with a ribbon and bow.”

      Just so long as it wasn’t a red Christmas one. On the other hand…she imagined him naked but for a bow tied around his neck—or maybe his cock. Who cared what color the ribbon was? “For now, I’ll make do. Stand up.”

      He did, and she got up to join him. The T-shirt wasn’t skintight, but it did cling nicely to his shoulders and pecs. She ran her hands lightly over the well-washed cotton, thin and soft under her touch. Below it, the solid curves and heat of his body. “You must work out.”

      Under her hands, his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Yeah, mostly at the fire hall. When we’re not out on a call or doing drills or maintenance.”

      She didn’t know much about firefighters. Her mom had been a secretary, and Jude’s experience had been academia and then white-collar work. Running her hands down his arms, feeling the solid strength of him, she tried to imagine a world of big, brawny guys like Nick. “Any women firefighters at your fire hall?” Now she stroked down the front of his shirt, skimming the firm curve of his pecs, the taut leanness of his ribcage and abdomen.

      “No. There aren’t many women who’re big and strong enough to pass the physical tests.” His body shifted restlessly under her touch.

      “Like what? Being able to toss someone over your shoulder and carry them out of a burning building?”

      “Yeah. You gotta be able to run up five flights of stairs carrying a forty-pound hose and carry or drag a one-hundred-eighty-pound dummy, all wearing full turnout gear.”

      “Wow.” Listening, impressed, she’d stopped touching him. Now she tugged at the hem of his shirt. “So that’s what’s under this wrapping. A man who can do that.”

      Another shrug, as though it was no big deal.

      He knew what he was capable of, but he wasn’t into boasting about it. Oh, yes, there was lots to like about this man.

      Jude eased the shirt up a few inches. When it cleared Nick’s hip-riding shorts, the bulging fly told her she was having an effect on him. How totally cool that she had this kind of power over such a tough guy. His utter masculinity made her feel more feminine—sexier—than ever before.

      Part of her wanted to just yank his shorts down and have her way with him, but the idea of unwrapping him slowly had even more appeal. Holding the hem of his T-shirt in both hands, she bent her head and licked his skin above his waistband. He started, muscles rippling, and she made her way to his navel. She ran her tongue around it, circled it with her lips, and blew air against his damp flesh, licked him in the center. The way she planned to do later with that rigid male organ that was begging to be freed and attended to.

      “Jeez, Jude.”

      “Turns out that…even after those cookies…” She punctuated her words with licks and puffs of air, and his skin rippled with reaction. “…I still have an…appetite.” Did she ever. She squeezed her thighs tight against the achy pulse of need between them.

      Slowly peeling the T-shirt upward, she followed with her lips and tongue, lapping his warm flesh, dropping feather-light kisses, teasing him with nips. Curls of black hair tickled her nose as she moved up his center line and between his pecs. Mmmm, his nipples were so tempting—hard, nubby peaks on rock-solid muscle.

      Nick’s rolled-up T-shirt brushed her hair. She tugged it down over her head so she was inside, tight against his chest, breathing in the sultry heat of him. In the dim light, she found a nipple and sucked it into her mouth, teased it until he groaned and then moved to the other.

      Jude felt like groaning, too. He was so deliciously male, her body craved him with a throbbing hunger. And she’d barely begun to unwrap him.

      She gripped the shirt again and peeled it up over her head, past his shoulders and beyond. When his head emerged, she stretched up so her body pressed against him, and she touched her lips to his.

      His eyes blazed with green heat, but before he could respond, she slid down again until she was kneeling on the towel at his feet. His legs were strong and well shaped, with soft curls of dark hair. But as fine as they were, her focus was elsewhere. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled down, lifting the gathered band clear of his rigid cock. Inch by inch, she lowered the fabric, drinking in the sight of all that proud masculinity.

      Chocolate-chip cookies

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