Naked
Love Excerpt
“Psst …”
I nudge Jake. He groans.
“Psst!”
He rolls away from me.
“Jake! I need the truck keys,” I
whisper-yell.
Another groan.
My eyes flit between his bared torso
turned away from me and his partially unzipped duffel bag at his feet. Jake has
nice feet. I’m not sure I’ve ever thought this about a guy before. But—I move
my phone’s flashlight an inch closer—yes indeed, he has nice feet. Not a single
nasty callous, and his toenails are perfect.
Not fair. What the heck, God? Why
would you give a guy such perfect feet? Jackass Jake must use an expensive foot
cream.
I roll my eyes at myself. What is
this? The beginning of a foot fetish? Therapy of some sort might be in my
future. After one last inspection of his flawless feet, and maybe a nanosecond
glance back up his bare torso—because why the hell not?—I inspect the contents
of his bag.
It has five outer pockets, but I come
up empty. No truck keys. Unzipping the main part feels a little too snoopy.
Biting the corner of my lip, I sweep the beam of my phone’s light across his
still body. If I’m completely honest, his feet are attached to some other
really nice body parts, but why start being honest now?
The light goes out. “Shit.” I frown at
the dead screen. What happened to my final three percent?
Key.
I need the key. I need to charge my
phone.
“Jakey Jakey, wakey wakey,” I whisper,
knowing he’s nothing more than a dead log on top of a sleeping bag. A dead log
with sexy feet and a drool-worthy trunk I could climb—
Gah!
I must NEVER think of the Devil as
sexy. Did I learn nothing about temptation from Eve and the complete debacle in
Eden? A questionably flawed story if you ask me. Still—religion permanently
haunts one’s conscience, and I’m no exception.
Don’t snoop.
Wait until he wakes up.
It’s not like it’s an emergency.
It’s just my phone—my connection to
the rest of the world, a way to see in the dark, keeper of time, contact list,
social media notifications, my savior in an emergency … MY LIFE!
Muzzling my conscience, I dive into
the main compartment of Jake’s duffle bag, the way a police officer would break
open a door after a 9-1-1 call. It’s filled with clothes, but within ten
seconds I have all aforementioned clothes strewn all around me.
No keys.
A jingle startles me, and my head
whips back, but it’s just Swarley. “Don’t!” I warn in my sternest whisper as he
abandons his spot in the corner and plops down on my sleeping bag. “Get. Off!”
He shakes his head once. I realize how
crazy that sounds, but it’s true. Swarley is not your average dog, he’s a demon—much
like Jake—out to destroy me. He can do things like nod and shake his head as
well as rip my poor hand apart when he sees something worth chasing, much like
Anthony ripped my heart apart when he discovered that chocolate does in fact
taste amazing.
Fucker.
Before my herbivorous travel buddy
wakes up, I start shoving his clothes back into his bag, taking a deep inhale.
What’s that smell? It’s good. Really good.
Herbaceous? Woodsy? Maybe piney, but
we’re not amidst that many pine trees here. Bringing one of Jake’s shirts to my
nose, I take a whiff.
Oh … that’s nice. Son of a bitch! Sexy—uh—I
mean, soft feet and amazing detergent.
Eat the shiny red apple, Eve …
I’m not going to eat his shirt, but I
indulge in one more sniff before—
“Why are you smelling my underwear?”
“Shit!” I jump, tucking the shirt
behind my back.
Chapter One
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