Page 38 of All For You Duet

In ten years, he’s gained twenty pounds of muscle and another ton of sex appeal oozing from his pores.

“Whoops.” His fingertip lifts the nectar off his pecs. He sucks it off his finger, and I’m busted. “Enjoying the show?”

My clit bought tickets.

“You always did like my juice.”

“Hell, yes, I did.” His grin slays me. “I’ll make you laugh and give you a real show.”

“What are you? A circus clown?”

“No.” He grabs his package with a spark in his eyes. “But I do have an elephant you can ride.”

“Shut up!” Why did I just giggle? “I remember how big it is. But Dumbo, you’re not.”

I’m lying.

It’s huge.

And fuck, yes, I want it.

“You sure?” He picks up my remote and enters something on the YouTube search bar. “I’ll jog your memory.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a private show.”

“The hell you are.” I sit up straight. “I don’t want one.”

He stands with his back to me, clicking the remote. “Tell that to your hard nipples.” I glance down. Fucking bitches. They tattle on me every time. “I bet you’re wet for me, too, aren’t you, Cade?”

Hell, yes, I am.

“Watching a hot, shirtless man clean your house will wet any woman’s pussy.”

“So will this.”

He presses play on a music video and turns around.

I glance at the screen and laugh. “‘Pony’ by Ginuwine?” I can’t, but he does, and I’m giggling again like I’m fucking twelve. “Please, don’t.”

“You mean don’t do this?” His hips start rolling as hard as my laughter. “Is this bringing anything back?”

As kids, he clowned around, dancing to get me to laugh.

As an adult, he’s a clit-tease toying with my lust.

“Yes, I remember.” But he never danced like this, and I’m crying happy tears. “This is so bad.”

Half embarrassed. Half aroused. Damn, he’s hot, making my cheeks blush at the liquid flex of his obliques.

“You look painfully cliché.”

I love cliché.

“Damn right, darlin’.” He grins, rolling a wave down from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist, to right where he wants my stare. “I danced twenty-one million cliché dollars into my bank account”—he pops his hips—“twice with this blockbuster show.”

I’m howling back on the sofa, surrendering to the spectacle. The way he makes me laugh and how it was his favorite thing to do always made me feel special.