It’s crap. I’ve got inches and pounds on Whit, but when I scoop her up, it’s work to carry her. Her long, lean limbs and sweet curves have a good kind of substantial feel to them, and she’s holding her body funny, I think because she’s attempting to not get blood all over me. What she’s actually doing is making herself an awkward pretzel.But I like this girl, so I like the work of getting her safely over the rocks. Cause let’s face it; if sweeping girls off their feet, literally, was so damn easy, it would make it that much less awesome when a guy went all out and did it.I manage to struggle the passenger door of the Jeep open with the hand that’s under her knees. “Just put me down,” she protests, wriggling like crazy. “I didn’t hurt my legs.”I do put her down. In the seat. And buckle her seatbelt. I take the opportunity to pretend the buckle apparatus is a hell of a lot more complicated than it is so I can smell her, all sweet grapefruit, salt-on-skin, and sexy, mind-quaking girl.
