Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) by A. M. Hargrove Page B

mean?”
    He’s
surprised by my question.
    I
sniff a little and say, “Everything smells good.”
    Then
I hear his deep chuckle again. “Glad you approve.”
    “Yeah,
so, this is a little awkward.”
    “Hmm.
Just think how you would’ve felt if I had slept the way I normally do.”
    That
puzzles me.
    “What
do you mean by that?”
    He
rolls over and one corner of his mouth is upturned. I almost catch my breath.
With eyes half-closed the man looks edible. Admittedly, I’ve never spent the
night with anyone. Lame, I know, but it’s the truth. Do all men look this good
in the morning? Is this what I’ve been missing? Shitfire !
    “Think
about it, Carter.”
    “Okay,
one thing about me, I don’t play games.”
    “Neither do I. Hate them, in fact.”
    “Then
…”
    “You’re
incredibly naive. I usually sleep in the buff.”
    My
mouth must’ve dropped open because first he laughs, and then he uses his finger
to push my chin back up.
    After
I process the idea of him naked in bed with me, I say, “Yeah, way more than a
little awkward.”
    “So,
if that would’ve been more than a little awkward, how do you think you would
manage doing anything I would ask of you?”
    He
would have to bring that up, wouldn’t he?
    “I’d
figure out a way.”
    “Just
out of curiosity, because if this relationship moves in that direction,
how many men have you slept with?”
    “I,
uh, well, uh, that’s really none of your business,” I stammer.
    He
grabs my wrist and pulls me across him saying, “Oh, but it is. You see, if I
ever agree to that arrangement in full, I want to know exactly how
experienced you are.”
    “B-but,
I thought you said you only wanted me for certain dates.”
    “Maybe
I’ve changed my mind.”
    For
a moment, I allow myself to assess him. That he gets his way with women is a
given. He’s perfect. Full mouth. High cheekbones that dip into those perfect
hollows right beneath them makes me want to touch his face. He has a couple of
day’s worth of scruff and I’d love to rub the back of my hand across it. I look
up to see chips of emeralds scrutinizing me.
    “You
would do that?”
    “How
many, Carter?”
    Two
can play at this game. Though I’m inexperienced as hell, I decide to be a bit
bold. I crawl on top of him and straddle him. He pretends he’s not shocked, but
I see the slight widening of his lids and the dilation of his pupils. It’s gone
in a flash, but it was there.
    In
the most seductive voice I can muster, which is probably goofy as all heck , I say, “I’ll tell you, if you tell me first.”
    “Oh,
Carter, you’re playing with fire here.”
    “Maybe,
but fire can be a good thing sometimes. It beats the hell out of ice.”
    His
head tilts and then he suddenly yanks on my wrist. I tumble down and my face is
aligned with his. “You asked, but when I tell you, don’t say you weren’t
warned.”
    “Okay.”
My voice comes out as a thready whisper.
    “Dozens.”
    “Dozens?”
I squeak.
    “Dozens.”
    “When
you say that, do you mean—?”
    “I
mean even more than I can count, dear girl. Now, your turn.”
    “Two,”
I squeak again. Shit. No wonder he has no interest in me. He wants a woman who
knows her way around a man. I hardly know my own way around myself.
    His
teeth skim over his lower lip, but he utters not one peep as he inspects me. He
releases my wrist and his hand reaches behind my head and tugs my hair out of
my ever-present ponytail. Where is this going? Once my hair is freed, he
threads his hand in it, grasping a chunk of it as he pulls my head back.
    His
voice comes to me as a murmur, as though he’s thinking out loud, when he says,
“Your hair is a most unusual color. It reminds me of the sun when it bursts
through the dawn, its golden rays mixed with streaks of oranges and reds. It’s quite
lovely, Carter. Why do you hide beneath all this frumpery?” He shakes his head.
“There’s a stunning creature concealed in here somewhere, begging to be
released.