“Go on, then. I’ll see to business in here, and when I’m done, I’ll come and get all washed up, and fuck you silly.” He grinned at me. “Unless you want to join me in the shower, that is. I’ll let you wash me yourself, and you can make sure I’m squeaky clean.”
That sounded delightful. But, “While I’m in the house, you’re going to stand in here under that bare bulb and wank?”
“I’m about ready to pop off any minute. It’s not like I need candlelight and a fancy setup to get in the mood.”
I didn’t know why but I felt indignant at the idea of it. It seemed unnecessarily…functional.
Lonely.
Also, the food service professional in me couldn’t help but point out, “You’ve been digging around in all this mess. That’s unsanitary.”
He took a packet of sanitiser wipes out of his back pocket, and brandished them at me. “Happy?” He tugged a wipe out, used it, and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed somewhere amongst the boxes.
I straightened. “No, actually. I am not.”
Kevin’s already hot eyes sparked at my snippy tone.
I might not be in the mood to get carried away with passion myself right now, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help him out.
I moved into his personal space. He tipped his head down, watching me. He blinked slowly.
“If you’re determined to have an orgasm,” I said, cupping his groin, “then I think you should let me take care of business for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Mhm.” He ran his gaze all over me and sighed happily. “Sassy homeowner gives handyman a handy in—uhn.”
Before he could trot out one of his terrible made-up porn titles that were even worse than his dirty talk, I pushed him against the wall.
“That’s right,” I told him. “And I’ll be expecting at least fifty percent off the bill for my trouble.”
Two could play at this game.
He shifted restlessly, his back to the bricks. His dark eyes were locked on my mouth.
“Well now,” I said in that vaguely stroppy tone that Kevin, for some reason, liked. “What shall I do with you? Hmm…” I pretended to think for a moment, then reached between his big thighs, right at the top. I gave him a brisk pat. “Open up.”
The skin around his eyes tightened momentarily but he did as I said, his boots scraping on the gritty concrete floor.
As soon as there was enough room, I gave his thigh a good smack. “Wider,” I said impatiently. “I need a bit of space to—eep.”
He tugged me in for a harsh, biting kiss that left me panting when he lifted away.
His lips curled in a smirk as he arched his back, tilting his pelvis and parting his thighs a little more.
Glaring at him, I popped the button of his cargo shorts, unzipped him, and pushed my hand inside.
He let out a short breath, head tipping down to watch.
Kevin was well-built and obscenely fit. His solid muscle mass meant that he ran hot even when he was slumped next to me on the sofa watching one of his home renovation shows or, if he couldn’t find one he hadn’t already watched, a reality show featuring something deadly, like ice truckers, Arctic fishermen, or rich housewives. When he’d been exercising, I’d swear the air around him rippled, like a heat mirage shimmering off the road in summer.
And at times like his, he was scorching.
I cupped his erection gently. When I didn’t do anything else—I was savouring it, all right?—he slid his fingers over mine and squeezed.
“Yeah,” he said, and pushed into our combined grip. His other hand came to rest at the base of my spine and he held me close as he worked his hips a couple of times.
