Perfecting the Odds (47 page)

He
pulled back. “Well, I should hope not,” he scoffed as his hands crept beneath her blouse.

Karis
giggled as she tried slap his hands away, in vain. “You’re an animal, Michael. We just went at it this morning. What I mean is, I’ve been thinking. You may want to consider returning to the Marines.”

His hands stopped
, and he frowned. “Are you nuts? Besides I can’t.”

“
That’s right. I forgot,” I lied. “But I believe
you
have mad crazy skills.”

His eyes widened. “
Are you shittin’ me, Karis?”

Karis
groaned. “Where did that saying even come from? I mean, really? How does joking and shitting connect? And again I ask, aren’t English professors supposed to be eloquent?”

He
laughed but lifted his brows, beaming with pride. “Another?”

She smiled.
“Another, oh ye’ sex god with impeccable aim.”

Suddenly,
Karis’s legs were wrapped around his waist, her mouth melted with his. She pulled away to ask, “You’re happy, baby?”

He furrowed his brow and for a moment, she was concerned. “Well, that depends?”

“On what?”

“Can we name
the baby John Donne?”

“No,” she giggled.

“William Shakespeare?”

“
Not a shitball’s chance in heaven.” He laughed.

“
How about Flynn?”

Flynn Finn
. She snorted. “Catchy, but no.”

“Well, whatever we choose, I know it will be--”

“Perfect,” she finished against his mouth.

The End