AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Being shirtless. That how you always work?”
“Usually just me, babe. No one else around to complain.”
And who’s complaining now? Not me. Wiping the drool off my mouth, I ask, “What can I do?”
He nods to the can of paint. “Think you can handle a little painting?”
“Pfft. . . do you know me?”
His chest rumbles with humor. “Yeah. Why I asked.”
I wave him off. “Move over. I got this. What needs painting?”
“Start with priming that wall.” He watches me with wary eyes as I get to work. When he feels confident I can paint within the lines, he brings his attention back to laying the floor. We’re quiet for the first hour. Painting takes a lot of concentration. Every so often, I sneak a peek at him.
Why is a man who works with his hands so damn sexy? Tory’s a sucker for a man in a suit, and Ashley wants that fairytale prince charming who will give her that white picket fence. Me? I loved a man who worked with his hands. The laboring type. Hell, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, watching his muscles flex as he steadies the nail gun and shoots the nail into the floor. His concentration. The way his brows knit together. The way he’s kneeling that makes his washboard stomach clench and flex. His happy trail—
“Shit.” I look down, realizing my paintbrush is dripping paint onto the floor. I kneel to clean up my mess.
“I got you.” Easton drops the nail gun, grabs a towel, and leans across me to wipe the floor. I would help, but I malfunction when his thick bicep brushes against my breasts. The smell of sweat and pine teases my senses, and I bite my bottom lip. “Gotta be careful.” He pulls back, catching the daze in my eyes. “The primer will soak into the wood and show through the stain if you don’t wipe it up quick.”
My brain is screaming for him to wipe me up with his tongue. “Get that lip outta your mouth, or we’re not getting anything else done.” That’s a shame. I slowly release my lower lip, and he just as slowly retreats, picks up his nail gun, and gets back to work.
The next couple of hours go by as slow as molasses. I knew I said I enjoyed a man who knew how to use his hands, but I’m starting to get jealous of all his power tools. I was the one who suggested we table anything concerning us, so I can only blame myself if I’m mad he isn’t trying to jump my bones.
It’s for the best, anyway. The lines of right and wrong are becoming blurred. Great sex cannot be the reason we give in. We have serious issues to work out. And even if we manage that, it doesn’t mean anything for after. What would after even be? A future? Reconciliation? I snicker at that insane thought.
“You good over there?”
“Me? Yep. Peachy.” I dip my brush into the paint for the third consecutive time.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“What? Where? I’m not done.”
He stands. “I know that look. Let’s go.”
“Uh, I don’t think so. I have no interest—”
“Not talkin’ about sex, babe. Even though you can lie out your teeth all you want. Change of scenery. Get changed. Gonna take you on a little adventure.”
“Adventure?” I ask, dropping the brush. “What kind of adventure?” The last part comes out strained because the way he says adventure has my mind in a tailspin and my lady parts clapping for joy.
“Gonna have to wait and see. Clean up. You have ten minutes.” Then he walks out of the room.
Fuck!
***
Ten minutes isn’t enough time to shave my entire body. But he did say no sex, so I’m half banking that’s the case. Half banking he likes a woman with hairy legs.
Also, what does one wear on an adventure? Survey says jeans and a sweater because that’s all I have. It’s on my agenda to ask Easton if he can attempt to get into my car again since I have no underwear.
I walk out of the bathroom twelve minutes later. Easton is already by the door. “How do you get ready so fast?”
“Magic. You ready?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure what I should be ready for.”
