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  Excerpt: Just Perfect

  Rowan McBride

  Out of Print.


Just Perfect 2012 by Rowan McBride. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author's permission.

Flagging down a taxi was easy enough. I settled him inside and climbed in after. "Cody, tell the cabbie your address."

He turned his head, his cheeks flushed with liquor. "You're coming home with me?"

"Yeah," I said, keeping my gaze fixed on the seat in front of me.

Cody chuckled and told the driver his address.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't know," he said, his shoulders shaking. "I just feel like laughing."

I glanced at him, taking in that smooth, flawless skin. "For a second there I didn't think you'd ever laugh around me again. Not like that."

"Back in the bar..." He rubbed at the tears forming in his eyes. "It felt like you were coming to my rescue. Like old times." He focused on me, his gaze going from playful to piercing and back again. "Silly, huh?"

I'd never seen eyes like that. "I don't think it is."

He curled his legs into the seat, tucked his arm under his head. "I think I'm drunk."

"I think you are too." But hell if it wasn't adorable.

Cody went quiet, staring at me. I tried not to squirm under the attention, but damn. He didn't say another word until we'd arrived at his apartment complex.

He fumbled for his wallet and I stayed his hand. "I've got the cash; don't worry."

His arm fell to the side. I paid the cabbie and scooped Cody into my arms, lifting him out of the taxi and surveying the complex.

Cody laughed. "This is just like when I twisted my ankle and you carried me to the nurse's office. Remember that?"

I smiled down at him, held him a little closer. "I remember you begged me to put you down the whole way there. Is that what you want now?"

"Nah." He waved his hand, like he was trying to sweep the question out of the air. "It's late. Doubt anyone'll see us this time around."

This time around. Hopefully that meant I had a second chance in more ways than one. "Where to?"

He flung his arm out and pointed to our right.

I carried him to the building and through the lobby. We rode the elevator to the seventh floor, and he threw his arm to the left.

"It's number 706," he said lightly.

When I stopped in front of his door, he wriggled his way out of my arms.

Shit, his body felt good.

Cody fumbled for his keys, managed to get the door open. I helped him inside and closed it behind us.

His knees buckled and I hooked an arm around his waist, holding him against me.

"Thanks," he said, smiling again.

The breath skittered in my chest. I'd never been dazzled by a smile before. "Any time."

"So this is my place," he said, gesturing to the studio apartment before sliding his palms up my arms. His head fell onto my shoulder. "You smell like fresh-tilled earth." He chuckled into my shirt. "Shit, I really am drunk."

My body tensed--could he smell the death around me? Was he saying I smelled like a grave?

"Hard as a rock," he murmured. "Just like I remember."

I groaned, unable to take it anymore as I tipped him backward. "Cody," I said, getting brave because he was drunk, "what kind of guys are you in to?"

He laughed and thrust his hand into my hair. "I like them tall and dark." He gave my head a hard tug. "I like them to have all the muscle I could never pack on to my own body."

My lips parted.

His gaze dipped to my mouth, and he lifted his other hand to brush a thumb against it. "Draven Donnor," he murmured, all humor draining away. "My first crush."


Out of Print.


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