Ghost Not Forgotten

XIX: Now

*another hilarious banner by Takestututango (Livejournal)

Things got intense. Soon we were sitting up and I was yanking at the bottom of his Georgia T-shirt. When I finally got it up and off of him, I had to stop. And gasp.

"What?" he said, looking at me like he thought I was having a heart attack.

"When did you get those?" I cried, pointing at his chest, where my eyes refused to leave.

He looked down and then back at me, looking a little scared. "When did I get what?"

"Those big . . . nice muscles you got there," I said. The room felt like a furnace all of a sudden.

He looked down again and back at me. His scared face stretched slowly into a huge grin.

"I mean when I last saw you like this," I said, my mouth wagging and my eyes still staring without shame, "you had a flat stomach, skinnier arms and even some of your ribs showin'!"

He laughed a little, curling some of my hair around his finger before tucking it behind my ear.

"I mean, holy damn Bennet, you've gotta six pack!" I pointed to the six tight muscles in his stomach.

"I know," he said, chuckling. "It's a smart thing for a cop to stay in shape, work out–"

"But you've got chest hair!"

"That I didn't get from workin' out," he said, smirking at me. "That just came with growin' up. You all right there, Natty Jean?"

"Wow," I breathed. I had to run my hand down his chest and stomach.

His breath caught. He let it out slowly, shuddering, as my fingertips brushed lightly down the center of his torso. I watched his stomach muscles tense.

He reached out, grabbing the bottom of my shirt while pushing the tip of his nose against mine to make me look at him.

"How are you lookin' these days, Natty?" he grinned at me, lifting my shirt a little.

I gave a sigh, coming to with some disappointment.

"About the same," I said as my shirt crept up and his hand began to rub against my bare belly. I couldn't stop staring at his eyes. "Like a twelve-year-old boy. No boobs, no ass, no hips, skinny as ever with the knobby knees to prove it."

He snorted and pressed his face against my cheek, laughing quietly.

"Well, I can't say that I like twelve-year-old boy bodies, because then it should be me bein' locked up, but . . ." he said, pulling the shirt up and over my head, tossing it on the floor. "I can say there isn't a body I've ever loved lookin' at more than yours."

"Liar."

"No lie," he whispered, his eyes falling from my face to look over my bra and stomach. His hands slid down to my hips, squeezing them as his eyes rose slowly back up the way they came. He let out a gruff breath. "Natty, I've been wantin' to get you naked and in my arms since the second I walked into Della's that first day."

Another hot wave. "Is that right?" I whispered.

He nodded. "And I've been fightin' the urge like crazy since. Horny as hell for you. You didn't remove that mole on your thigh, did you?"

I blinked. "Oh my God, how do you remember that?"

"I always loved that mole." His smile was so wide and so beautiful, I missed his hand going to my pants. "Can I see it?"

He tried unbuttoning them, but I smacked his hand away. He raised a brow, looking at my smirk and returning it. "Lookin' for a fight, Little Red?"