Superb and Sexy (Sky High Air Book 3) Read online

  As if to prove it, she tried, using her good hand, pulling the material up to just beneath her breasts, squirming as she strained to get her arm out. With some work, she did get the one arm out, and then she was caught halfway in, halfway out, her head beneath the stretchy material.

  Beneath the lace, she had silk. Tiger-striped silk in the form of a demi bra cut so low that all her wriggling and squirming threatened her coverage.

  Not to mention, shot his distance theory all to hell.

  “Uh-oh.” She bounced up and down. Yeah, like that was going to do anything except maybe give him a heart attack because her breasts were bouncing too, shimmying and shaking, and he actually felt a coronary coming on—

  And then it happened.

  A nipple popped right out of her bra, a sweet rose-colored nipple.

  Riveted to the spot, he stood there, heart pounding, blood roaring like a white water rapid as it rushed through his body to pool between his legs.

  “Damn it, I’m stuck. Can you get Leena?” Her voice was muffled through the shirt. She had her bad arm pinned to her side, her good arm straight up over her head, her top still half on and half off.

  And a nipplegate situation going on.

  He had to clear his throat to talk and even then managed only a barely audible “I said I’d do it.”

  Because he was stupid. Very, very stupid.

  For her part, she kept valiantly trying to free herself, which involved more bouncing. He tried to move, but in reality, he could do nothing but stare at her breast, the tip puckering up tight right before his eyes, making his mouth water.

  “Brody? You out there?”

  He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he managed hoarsely.

  She tugged again and then let out a low cry of pain, which pretty much galvanized him into reluctant action. Setting a knee on the bed, he leaned over her. Christ, where to put his hands? “Be still,” he demanded, but the woman never listened. She kept moving, moving, moving, and her bared breast kept bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. “Seriously. Sit still.”

  He held her raised arm with one hand and ordering himself not to look, grabbed the hem of her shirt to try to get the thing off her, all the while taking care of her bad arm.

  And not looking.

  He succeeded at the first and failed miserably at the second. The shirt snagged on her elbow, and once he fixed that, he was nearly home free until he caught the material on her earring.

  “Ouch.”

  “Don’t move!”

  “I’m not!”

  Not earring. Earrings. She had four silver hoops in her ear, and he had no idea why, other than the tiny hoops made a sweet little tinkling sound when she moved, and for some reason, the sight of them made him want to nibble there.

  But there were lots of places he wanted to nibble at the moment. With Herculean effort, he finally dragged her free of the shirt and tossed it aside.

  In unison, they looked down at her exposed breast. “Whoops,” she said and tucked her nipple back into the cup of her bra.

  He’d carried her through the house and up the stairs without breaking a sweat, but he was sweating now. “Okay, then. I’ll just…” Dream about your body, and that nipple, for the rest of my life. “…get you that tea.”

  “But I’m not all the way undressed.”

  He eyed her skirt. The smallest skirt in the history of skirts. “Right. I guess that has to come off.”

  “The zipper’s in the back,” she said helpfully.

  And then she all but stopped his heart by rolling to her belly, exposing the smooth, sweet skin of her slim back, broken only by the strap of her bra and that scrap of material masquerading as a skirt, which revealed her tattoo and emphasized the sweetest ass he’d ever seen, not to mention the two tightly toned legs that could take him weeks and weeks to explore.

  “Do you see the zipper?” she asked, her face pressed into the bed.

  The one that ran a whole whopping two inches from the small of her back just below her small tattoo to halfway down the already aforementioned sweet ass? Yeah, he saw it.

  “Brody?”

  “On it.” His palms itched. His fingers twitched. Everything twitched. He should have gone to the damn post office. With a knee still on the bed, he leaned over her and grabbed the zipper tab.

  Then pulled.

  She wriggled, widening the gap, and if he’d thought her skirt tiny, it had nothing on her thong panties, a matching tiger-striped, narrow strip bisecting the most amazing, mouthwatering ass he’d ever seen.

  Reaching down with her good hand, she shoved the skirt off one hip and then wriggled—Jesus H. Christ—wriggled to try to lower the other side as well. She did have a small birthmark on the back of her right thigh, and at the thought, a strangled sound of lust tumbled from his lips.

  Craning her neck, she blinked at him. “You okay?”

  No. No, he wasn’t. All of the blood in his body, every single drop, had left his brain for parts south.

  “I can’t—” She struggled some more, those sweet cheeks lifting off the bed, and he found himself actually leaning in as if to kiss them.

  Or take a bite out of them.

  “A hand?”

  Yeah, a hand. How about both hands? He could cup and squeeze—

  “Brody?”

  “Yeah.”

  You are so fucked, he told himself and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt to tug. Shrink-wrapped to her skin, the skirt only gave an inch. But that inch…more sweet flesh, more of the thong…holy mother of God, he wasn’t going to recover from this. He really wasn’t.

  Another tug, and the skirt slid to her upper thighs, exposing her in full, including the line of the thong as it narrowed and vanished between her legs. And then she scissor kicked the skirt off her legs, giving him an all too quick, tantalizing view of the barely covered treasure in between.

  “Brody?”

  He blinked and realized she’d turned back over and was waiting for him in nothing but tiger stripes. “Huh?”

  “Blanket?”

  “Right.” He yanked it over her and swiped his forehead. “It’s hot in here. Is it hot in here?”

  Her eyes were already drifting shut. “It’s just perfect. Thanks for your help…”

  Okay, then. He strode to the door as fast as he could, needing out, needing air, needing…well, what he needed didn’t bear thinking about.

  The minute Brody left the room, Maddie slapped her forehead. Asinine. Her great plan had totally and completely backfired on her because now she was shaking. Shaking and quivery and so turned on she could hardly stand it. She shoved the covers back off and took a deep breath.

  He’d wanted her.

  By the look in his eyes, he’d wanted all of her, fast and wild and maybe a little dirty. Whew. Fanning her face, she got out of the bed, then went looking for Leena.

  They had to go. Like yesterday.

  Only Leena was already gone. Her bag, her suitcase…gone.

  Oh, God. Maddie stood in the center of the spare bedroom, the spare empty bedroom, and then ran to the window. Leena’s car was gone.

  Damn it! She’d decided to execute The Plan on her own.

  But Maddie couldn’t let her do it. Stupid plan or not, they were stronger together than apart, and she was going after her to prove it.

  Leena bought the last ticket on a plane bound for New Orleans and hoped to be at Ben’s art gallery by dawn.

  Assuming her courage caught up with her.

  She let out a long breath and walked past the airport bar. The kind of drink she could use about now would only cost her four bucks, but she’d given up alcohol along with the cigarettes and everything else that she missed.

  She thought of Maddie and wondered how much her sister would mind that Leena had accidentally grabbed Maddie’s cell phone instead of her own, since apparently they still thought alike and had bought identical phone covers.

  Or that Leena had abused the min