It was nothing—just skin on skin, a stupid accident—but the moment stretched anyway, thinned out until I was aware of every detail. The heat of his fingers, the roughness of his palm, and the way he went still hit me all at once.
He looked at me. I looked at him. Oh god, this felt like we were checking each other out.Get out! Abort!
Jesse’s jaw flexed. “Sorry,” he muttered, pulling his hand back too fast. He took the towel properly this time and wiped the spill in short, efficient motions.
“Long day?” I asked because the quiet was starting to feel like pressure.
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh if he’d had more energy. “You could say that.”
“If you sold,” I said, because the words were already there and stopping them felt like cowardice, “you could do something else.”
His eyes narrowed. Not angry. Assessing. He crowded me back toward the sink as he reached past me for the milk, claiming the space without asking, close enough that I could feel the heat of him without him ever touching me, and it hit me then that he didn’t need the space—he wanted it. I inhaled the clean scent of soap and shower and something unmistakably him, and my body reacted before my head could stop it, heat flaring hard and fast, my cock trapped painfully in my jeans.
“I have the best job on earth,” Jesse said, his breath warm against my ear. “Can you say the same thing?”
My face felt hot. I couldn’t seem to get enough air. I picked up my mug with shaking fingers, muttered something that might have been an excuse, and ducked past him before my body could make things any worse.
I headed upstairs, heart hammering, shame and want tangled together in a way I didn’t have the energy to unpack.
My face felt hot. Too hot. I took a step back, then another, very aware of my body and the way it had betrayed me.
I wrapped my hand around myself and squeezed withenough pressure to make me hiss. Jesse’s presence was still in my head—his heat, the way he’d crowded my space, the certainty in his voice. I pumped my fist slowly at first, then harder, chasing relief more than pleasure, hips lifting as my body took over.
It didn’t take long. I came with a muffled groan into my hand, pulse racing, breath ragged, frustration and want bleeding out of me together.
After, I lay there staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, the ache in my hip dulled and was replaced by a different kind of soreness. Nothing was fixed. Nothing was clearer.
I cleaned up, turned onto my side, and finally—mercifully—sleep dragged me under.
Chapter 10
Jesse
It was a whole three days later before he came anywhere near me again. No more meeting in the kitchen, no more of me trying to intimidate him and, then, fuck myself over when just being close to him turned me on.
I needed to get laid. This was ridiculous. I didn’t even like Lucas.
But he is cute, and all that hair, and those big eyes, and I bet he’d make the sweetest sounds on my cock.
Stop it!
I heard him approaching the barn before I saw him, and I turned to see him skidding, a sharp intake of breath, as he came pinwheeling across the yard, arms windmilling when he hit a sheet of ice that I’d learned to avoid without thinking. Despite wearing old sensible boots he’d brought with him, he slammed shoulder-first into the barn wall, cursed, then straightened with stubborn determination written all over his face.
“I need you to show me the guest cabins and the rest of the ranch,” he blurted, cheeks flushed from the cold and effort, his blue eyes wide with something like excitement. Or maybe it was just focus.
“No,” I said, not unkindly but not backing down. I swung the barn door open and let the warmer air roll out. He followed me inside anyway, boots clomping, taking it all in like a man already making mental notes. He glanced around at the inside of the barn, looking small in this vast space, and his gaze turned calculating. “I need to assess what I own here.”
“Whatweown,” I corrected.
His eyes narrowed, irritation flashing there, then something like embarrassment crossed his face before he masked it. He cleared his throat, jaw setting. “What Iownmost of,” he said, clipped now. “You can show me.”
I stopped, turned, and met his gaze. “I said no.”
“Then Gunner? Miguel? Jake? I’ll take Ruth if she promises not to cook me anything.”
“We’re all busy.”
He scowled. “Well, you’re not doing anythingnow.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which couldn’t have been comfortable with all those layers.
