Fighting Dirty: Ice Kings, #5 by Stacey Lynn

Author:Stacey Lynn
Language: eng
Format: epub

There is only so much torture a man can take and I am at my limit.

For well over a year, I’ve run next to Jillian, been distracted more than once over the bounce of her tits beneath a tank top and sports bra, and sometimes only the bra. I’ve licked my lips to the sight of her abs and her heavy huffs of breath as we reach mile seven or eight. And I’ve gone home hard from the sight of her firm ass in her tight running shorts.

Now that I’ve actually had my hands on her and the freedom to touch her and kiss her whenever I please, I’m ready to punch straight through my shorts as we arrive back at her house.

We fall in through the front door of her parents’ house, dripping sweat, faces flushed, and limbs rubbery. All great signs of a perfect run.

She grasps the thick, gleaming railing and drags herself up the stairs. My eyes settle on that ass of hers. So damn perfect.

“This is why treadmills were invented,” she moans, pulling herself up the stairs with every slow and painful step.

“We’ve had harder runs than this around Freedom Park.”

She glares back at me, grinning, a thin line of sweat on her upper lip. “Pretty sure I whined and complained then.”

Probably. As much as Jillian loves running, she has the habit of good-naturedly complaining all the way through them. “Get upstairs before you collapse. I don’t think I can carry you today.”

I’ve had to do it before. When she fell once, blamed a flat stretch of road as the cause afterward. Yet as she said it, she had this glazed look in her eyes—which were focused on my bare chest.

Possibly why I quit wearing a running shirt since then unless necessary.

“Bossy, bossy.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” I step up toward her and slap her ass on the way. No man could resist that opening.

She squeals and jumps forward from it, but I race past her.

“I call dibs on the shower.”

“The hell you do!” she calls out from behind me, but I know Jillian, she likes a good competition. I half-heartedly race up the stairs letting her catch me and when she does, we elbow and shove each other down the hall and around the corner through the doorway to her bedroom and into her bathroom.

My chest is heaving, and my cheeks hurt from smiling as we both reach the bathroom at the same time. Her wide grin matches mine as she tries to catch her breath.

“Looks like a tie,” I say. “What do we do now?”

Jillian reaches for the hem of her tank top and pulls it over her head. Speech flees and my gaze drops.

Her bra has a zippered front. It takes everything in me not to reach for it, give it a good, firm tug so her breasts fall free, right into my waiting palms.

“A gentleman would let the lady go first.”

“You’re right.” I swing my arm out toward the shower. “Ladies first.”

“Are you going to give me privacy?”

I settle my hands on my hips.

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