Free Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) by Sidney Halston

his neck, and her dress inched up to cruel levels, his resolve wavered.
    He picked her up, and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around his waist.
Thank God for yoga and flexibility.
He kicked the door closed behind him and carried her to the couch. Her hands continued to assault his back, his hair, his neck. He laid her down, his weight hovering over her.
    His hand roamed her outer thigh, and she fought to get his shirt off him. She whimpered when her shaky hands couldn’t undo his buttons. “I’ve always wanted to see your tattoo. I’ve dreamed about seeing it.”
    He pulled back to look at her face. “You’ve seen it. You’ve seen me fight before without a shirt.”
    She swallowed and looked slightly hesitant, maybe even nervous. “I haven’t seen the
entire
thing.”
    His grin became devilish. “Oh, I see. So you want to know if it stops here.” He pointed at the waist of his jeans.
    She nodded eagerly.
    Slade reached behind him, unlocked her legs from his waist, and stood. Not taking his eyes off her, he unbuttoned his jeans.
    —
    Oh my God!
    She felt like she was getting her own private strip show. She remained on the couch but quickly sat up. Her dress was pushed well past her hips and her nude-colored lace panties were on full display, but she was way past modesty at the moment.
    Slowly—mind-numbingly slowly—he slid his jeans down and stepped out of them. His shirt followed, and he stood in white boxer briefs.
    “Rules.”
    “Rules?” she croaked, not even recognizing her own voice.
Jessica, get your eyes out of his crotch area, doofus!
    “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. But we are not going past third base tonight.”
    “What are you, ten?”
    “What the fuck were you doing at ten years old, Jessica?”
    She snorted. “You know what I mean. You sound like a horny teenage girl, Slade. ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’? Come on. I’m old enough to go to fourth base if I want to.”
    “Home run.”
    “Whatever. You know what I mean.”
    “Nope. No sex tonight. I mean it. I will not show you my tatt if you don’t promise. You’re not completely recovered yet. You’re still getting breathless.” She wanted to tell him it wasn’t the injury to her lungs that was making her breathless, but instead she groaned and nodded.
    “Let me hear you say it,” Slade said. He was standing in his I’m-a-sexy-super-muscular-badass stance, except this time almost naked.
    Jessica leaned forward on her elbows and rolled her eyes. “I promise I will not force my vagina on your penis, Slade Martin. All I want is to see your tattoo.”
    He laughed. “Yeah, right.” He didn’t hesitate in sliding his fingers inside the waistband of his boxers and slowly sliding them down and down until there was not a single piece of clothing on his body.
    Holy hotness!
    She swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. The man was not shy. At. All! He stood in front of her buck-ass naked. His very erect penis greeted her, and all she really wanted to do was say hello to it right back. It was so close.
    “So? What do you think?”
    “I…uh…holy shit. I don’t think it’s going to fit,” she whimpered.
    “You cursed.” He laughed and continued, “I was talking about the tatt. You wanted to see my tatt.” He smirked, one eyebrow raised.
    She hadn’t even glanced at the tattoo. “Oh. Right. Tattoo.” She refocused her eyes and sat up straighter. It was impressive. The tattoo. Well, everything was impressive, but right now she meant the tattoo. The thick, intricate lines continued the pattern from his neck to his toes. “I’ve never seen a tattoo like this. If I was looking at you from the right, I’d never know you had a tattoo. It’s beautiful, Slade. Did it hurt?”
    “Like a motherfucker.”
    She laughed.
    “Not everywhere, though. But this particular part.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his pelvic bone. “Hurt like hell.”
    Her fingers lingered on that