He opened it and peered out, looking unbelievably hot in the skin-tight t-shirt, his tattooed arms bulging out of the sleeves.
She resisted the urge to reach out and test his bicep.Yeah.It was probably harder than concrete.She somehow swallowed the desire to drag her tongue up his body from navel to throat.
With the plate of warm brownies extended, she said, "Hi."She sounded breathless.Damn.
Deep breaths, Kaitlyn, deep breaths.
The Marine Sergeant's eyes traveled down from her face, but instead of landing on the brownies, they rested on her breasts.Her nipples hardened under his scrutiny.
"I, um, never caught your name," she said.
His eyes jerked back to her face and narrowed with suspicion."Rob Gentry."
"Hi Rob.I—"
"Listen, I'm kinda tied up right now."He jerked his thumb toward the living room, where it appeared he was in the middle of installing a flat-screen television.
"Oh well, I don't mean to bother you but—"
Unbelievably, he swung the door shut in her face.
Her face flushed as she stood there in shock.
The door opened again."Are those for me?"He looked at the brownies.
Her lips parted but no words came out.She wanted to say something witty or cute.Like, "Only if you invite me in," but his icy blue stare stopped her.
He reached for the plate of brownies.
She thrust it at him, still unable to make a sound.
"Thanks."He took the brownies and shut the door again.
A strangled laugh bubbled up in her throat.
Well, at least he took the brownies.She looked like a goofball with a capital "G", but he'd taken the food.
It was a start.
Chapter 2
Rob yanked the laces on his sneaker so hard they broke.
Fuck.
Was he really so out of touch with his own body that he couldn't tie a shoelace anymore?He yanked the broken laces out of the shoe and stared at it in disgust.Great.How was he supposed to go running?
After a moment of spluttering, his brain arrived at the obvious solution of pulling a lace from another shoe.He retrieved the lace and started over, this time being careful not to yank too hard as he tied it.
He kicked open his front door.Once more, he gauged poorly and the door slammed open, making a dent in the plaster behind it.
No, that wasn't his fault.The doors in this apartment were made of cardboard.He shut the door and locked it, slipping the key in his pocket.As he jogged down the stairs, his eye caught the flash of red hair in the lobby.
Damn.
Dimples again.He'd run into her three times in the past week and every time, his cock got hard while he pictured himself doing all variety of depraved things to her hot little body.
She was bent over her phone—no, it was an Mp3 player.Great, was she going running too?
