KICK IT | JENLISA

37

Lisa

She let out a shriek and bolted. Those lanky legs shot around my garage, leaping out of a starting gate. Wrong person for a game of paint tag. I ran after her, my heart pounding with a rushed thrill, and digging my heels into the grass. "You're dead!" I called out with a laugh.

I easily caught her on the other side of the house, roped my free hand around her waist, and poured the can's remaining contents on the top of her head. Under ribbons of blue, the softness of her breasts pressed against my forearm. I pinned her to my chest until the last drop.

"Ahh!" she squealed out between laughs, her spine freezing up and bumping her shoulder into my bicep.

Indigo paint soaked her hair, trickling down the back of her neck and shoulders. When she turned around, it dripped down her forehead, trailing blueish-purple drops of blood down her cheeks. Turning her head, her eyes burned up at me.

Uh-oh. "Too far?" I laughed in her ear, pinning her back to my chest. At my height, I required tailored clothes, transportation leg allowances, and ceiling-mounted shower heads. It wasn't conducive to hugging most people without straining my back and neck. Jennie's height was perfect.

She wiggled, slippery with paint, but didn't fight out of my grasp. Instead, she turned around and buried her head in my chest. Half-nuzzling and half-headbutting like a cat begging for attention, she wiped her painted head across my pecs and up the side of my neck. "You're lucky I got acrylic." she groaned into my chest. "If this was latex, I would ram my knee into your future children factories."

Her head drew back, war paint smeared over her face. My elbows caging her shoulders, I smoothed a few sticky strands off her forehead. The soft skin over that hard head was smooth and warmed from the sun. Arching her back brought her chest flush with mine, smashing her soft breasts into my sternum. The contact stalled my breath, making breathing impossible.

Fuck, she was beautiful. Wild and spirited. Her lips, pale pink and etched with blue lines, parted with accelerated breaths. Only her words registering in my brain pulled me back.

"Sorry." I whispered.

"I need a shower." she moaned, fluttering her sticky lashes closed.

Those were the last words I needed to hear. Picturing her in my shower flushed a stronger rush of arousal through me. Heat rose under my skin, pooling in my palms. Tiny golden highlights reflected in her eyes, fading as her teasing dissolved into awkward as fuck discomfort. I hugged her flush against the stiff traitor between my legs.

"Manoban..." she breathed out. "Stop getting excited. This isn't part of the workout."

"Fuck, sorry." I mumbled and released her. "Come on inside."

"You sure?" Her head tipped down to inspect her Creature of the Blue... sorry, Indigo-Lagoon impression. "It's washable, but with my luck, every carpet you own is white."

"It's not." I walked over to the hose I used to wash my car. Not giving her a chance to move, I shot her with a cold blast.

"Ahh!" She palmed her hands against the stream. It sprayed off them, casting a rainbow while misting the air. "I take it back, I'm..."

I lifted the hose over her head and sprayed down, drowning her words into sputtered sounds. Strands of her hair matted the sides of her face and neck. Since her eyes squeezed closed, I rubbed my palm over her cheeks and forehead until the water ran clean.

My setup was cleaner, so I ripped off my shirt and wrapped it around itself. She blinked up from her soaked lashes, her eyes skimming from my bare chest down my ridged abs. I flexed them.

Before I blinked, she stripped down. Wet and clinging to her, her fitted shirt was harder to remove, but she yanked it overhead, then stripped off her pants. A rash of goosebumps spread over her chest and arms. I doubted she was aroused, but the way her nipples peaked through her black sports bra swelled the interest in my shorts to an emergency. The dents of her ribs led down to a concave navel bracketed by curved lines of abdominal muscles. She didn't show more than what her fitted clothes clung to, and yet I saw so much more. Her breasts smashed together in a line, the rounded tops spilling out between the straps.

"Uhh..." Rubbing my hand over the back of my head, I wanted to turn, but a hard-on profile was worse than the frontal view.

Stop pointing at her. My brain was wiped empty for all the wrong reasons. I closed my eyes for a few breaths. For one pathetic, weak moment, I forgot who she was beyond a beautiful, sexy woman. Insanely beautiful. Painfully sexy.

Cold blasts of water up my nose delivered the cold shower I needed because I was in serious trouble here.