Page 147 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“This will put hair on their chests,” Chief said proudly, holding up a mason jar filled with what looked like molten lava. “Secret ingredient is ghost peppers.”

I was having flashbacks to my own foray into eating his chili. I was certain I still had a dead spot on my tongue where the taste buds had been burned clean off.

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Martha said diplomatically. “But I think I’ll stick to my regular menu. Can’t have my customers breathing fire. Or keeling over.”

A few people nearby chuckled, and Chief looked momentarily deflated before brightening again. “Well, if you change your mind…”

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” Martha said sweetly, then turned to me with a conspiratorial wink. “That man has been trying to get me to serve that chili for five years. I swear it could strip paint.”

“I heard that!” Chief called out, but he was grinning.

“You were meant to!” Martha shot back, and the whole tent erupted in laughter.

Arms wrapped around me from behind, and Dalton’s familiar scent enveloped me. “Having fun?” he murmured against my ear.

“The best,” I said, leaning back against his chest. “How’s the construction going?”

“Good. We should have the frame up by tonight if this weather holds.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “How’s your thumb?”

“I will go on to live another day.”

A commotion near the construction site caught our attention. Someone had started playing music from a truck’s stereo system. The song sent heat pooling between my legs. And I felt Dalton’s cock jerk against my backside.

Riley Green’s “Worst Way” vibrated through the speakers.

And good heavens all I could think about was sex. I remembered exactly what I had been doing the last time I heard the song.

“I love you,” I said quietly, just for him.

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning down to kiss me softly. “All of you.”

“I think—” I looked around in search of privacy. I needed the man.

“Come with me,” he growled.

He grabbed my hand and led me away from the crowd, toward the back of Martha’s property where a small storage shed sat. My pulse quickened as he pulled me around the corner, pressing me against the weathered wooden wall.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” I whispered, but I was already reaching for him.

“Don’t care,” he said roughly, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His hands roamed over my body, reacquainting themselves with every curve despite the fact that we’d made love just hours ago.

“Someone could see us,” I protested weakly, even as my fingers traced the hard planes of his chest.

“Then you better be quiet,” he murmured against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made me gasp.

The distant sounds of laughter and power tools faded into background noise as he lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist. The rough wood of the shed pressed against my back, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the way he looked at me, like I was everything he’d ever wanted.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said, his voice raw with need.

“Then don’t,” I whispered back.

Before things could go any further, Pickle’s voice cut through our haze. “Hey, has anyone seen—oh, shit. Sorry!”

We broke apart, both breathing hard. Dalton set me down and rested his forehead against mine.

“This is your fault,” I hissed. “You and that stupid playlist. I heard ‘Come a Little Closer’ in the grocery store and nearly had an orgasm.”

He grinned, clearly not bothered by my confession.