Free Tap Out by Michele Mannon Page A

murmured, sounding like he just woke up from a deep sleep after partaking in a sexual marathon. “Must explain why I’m considering adding a bit of paprika to my diet. Not every day a man is propositioned in his hotel room by a natural redhead.”
    Her spine bristled but her traitorous heart executed another quick cartwheel. Was Caden hitting on her? No way. More likely, he was trying to intimidate her.
    “So, what do you want?” His voice was smooth and buttery. Sexy. Loaded and full of meaning.
    Sex. Wild , spicy sex. “A one-on-one, full-access interview.”
    “You looking to use me good and hard, huh, sweetheart?”
    “I wouldn’t say use... ”
    “What would you call it, then?”
    “A mutually beneficial arrangement. We’re after the same thing, Caden. You want a comeback as much as I do. I’m in the position to make you the most celebrated MMA fighter around.”
    “Tell you what. I’ll give you ten minutes of my time if you do something for me first.” Caden ignored his drink, sauntering off into the bathroom only to return with a damp washcloth. Settling down on the edge of the bed, he leaned back on an arm, stretched out his long legs, and nonchalantly began working the cloth first over his chest and then down along his abs, following the trail of sticky orange juice.
    Sophie stepped closer. Ten minutes was hardly enough time. With the way he was rubbing that dang cloth across his magnificent body—inch by inch by mouthwatering inch—she’d never get the question out. Because, just like every cell in her body had decided to turn traitor by doing a sizzling rendition of a naughty Irish jig, her throat had dried up as well.
    She swallowed hard. If she could just pull herself together long enough to get back in the game, an awful lot could be revealed in ten minutes.
    She decided to play along. “Shoot.”
    He looked up, pinning her with an amused stare. Like he knew she’d breathing in his every wicked movement. “I’ll start. Flats or heels?”
    She cocked her head. “What is this, your version of truth or dare?” This will be easy.
    Caden smiled in response, and her body bounced back into high alert.
    “Uh, hum. Time’s a ticking.”
    “Heels. The higher the better. My turn. Why give up a modeling—”
    “Color?”
    “What? Bla...,” she began, but stopped, suddenly inspired. “Red,” she stated, squarely, keeping a neutral tone. “Bright, shiny red. Preferably Italian leather. Let’s discuss you’re disappearance from the MMA circuit and you resurfacing at the Tetnus qualifiers.”
    “No.”
    “Okay, fast forward to Tetnus. Do you think someone with your good looks, your notoriety can—”
    “Forget it.”
    Sophie stepped closer to the stubborn man and stood before him with her hands on her hips. If Caden Kelly thought he was going to bulldoze her, he had a surprise coming his way. Two could play at this game. “Boots or Nike flops?”
    That brought a lady-killer smile to his lips. “Boots. Preferably American leather. Cowhide.”
    She flipped her hair. A brazen tequila fog had settled over her, pushing any lingering caution aside and spurring her on. “Color?”
    “Hmm.” He seemed to contemplate the entire rainbow, all the while running that darned cloth down across his drum-tight abdomen. “Man, you really pulled a number on me,” he grunted absently, his—and her—attention drawn downward over the sticky mess she’d caused. His thumb hooked into the waistline of his sweatpants, tugging them down so he could reach lower. Revealing that sweet spot on a man, that indentation slightly lower than his hip bone, that stirred up her libido like nobody’s business. Up close and personal like this, Caden had one mouthwatering sweet spot. Without warning, he looked back up.
    It took all of her willpower not to look away.
    He tossed the washcloth onto the floor.
    “Red,” he stated, “like the color of a woman’s lips after kissing. Bet yours turn bright and