Free Triple Score by Regina Kyle

gaze followed his hand over his pecs down the trail of hair that bisected his abs and disappeared under the waistband of his sweats. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
    “So it’s a pleasure. That’s a start.” She glanced up and down the hall, her ash-blond hair, still mussed, he presumed, from sleep, swinging gently. “Can I come in?”
    “Sure, since you asked so nicely.” He stepped back to let her pass. “This time.”
    She spun around, her eyes shooting poisoned darts at him. “What happened this afternoon was...”
    “Stop.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want to fight.”
    She loosened her clenched fists and let out a long, slow sigh, like his words had deflated her anger. “Neither do I. But that’s what we seem to do.”
    “Any idea how we can change that?” Because he had a few. Most of which involved him and her and a conspicuous absence of clothing. In his experience, it was hard to fight when you were skin to skin.
    “That’s sort of why I’m here.” She twisted the hem of her shirt. “Mind if I sit?”
    “Yes, I do.” He advanced on her, backing her up against the bed. “I don’t think you came to sit. Or to talk.”
    “No?” Her voice was breathy and she stared down at her hands, which had wrung her shirt into a knot.
    “No.” He slid a finger under her chin, tipping it up and forcing her eyes to meet his. Desire and doubt swirled in their indigo depths. The first he approved wholeheartedly, but the second had to go. “I think you came to finish what we started on that bench. In private. Without the cookies, unfortunately.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    He knew what she was getting at but decided to play dumb and go for the laugh, hoping it would loosen her up. “Well, for one thing, your hands are empty, unless you count that shirt you’re destroying. And I doubt you’re hiding a tin of cookies in your bra.”
    It worked. Her shoulders relaxed and she let the hem of her shirt fall. “Not the cookies. The finishing what we started.”
    “I told you, your body doesn’t lie.” He wedged a leg between hers, pressing against her core. “And neither does mine.”
    “Wow. That’s a pretty impressive, um, truth, you’ve got there.”
    “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Duchess.” But she would, if he had anything to say about it. And soon.
    He laughed softly, brushing his mouth across her temple, and she shivered. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”
    “You did.” He brought his arms around her waist, pulling her even tighter to him. “But I know down deep you like it.”
    “Maybe way down deep.” Her hands crept up between them, coming to rest on his chest, her palms cold on his superheated skin. “So we’re really going to do this?”
    He sucked in a breath as her fingers tangled in his chest hair. “Is that a statement or a question?”
    “A question.”
    “My vote’s yes.” He lowered his head for a kiss, his lips grazing hers just long enough to tease. “But it has to be unanimous.”
    He kissed her again, longer this time, deeper. When he came up for air, she wasn’t the only one who was all hot and bothered, as evidenced by the giant tent in his pants. If she voted no, he was staring down the barrel at another long night alone, just him, his hand and the shower.
    Unless she wanted to watch again...
    He touched a finger to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse was going crazy. “What’s it gonna be, sweetness?”
    “This is a bad idea.” She abandoned his chest hair for the hair at the nape of his neck, her actions warring with her words.
    “Maybe.” He gave her his most seductive smile, one that promised a world of wicked wonders. “But sometimes bad ideas are the best ones.”
    She waited so long to respond he lowered his hands to his sides and started to back away. She stopped him with a hand on his forearm.
    “Wait.” She rubbed her lips together, and the tent in his pants went from teepee