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“I—” she starts, her fingers brushing down my arm, trailing all the way until her hand is curled around mine. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” I murmur, inhaling deeply before pulling away. “Just know that if we cross that line, and you leave . . . there’s no coming back from it. It’s going to hurt you just as much as it’ll hurt me.”
Blair nods, her tight grip on my shirt finally loosening, and I take the chance to step back before I cross the line I’ve drawn. “I ummm,” she lets out a breath and shakes her head as if needing a second to find her bearings. “Why are you here? I don’t remember mentioning to John that I needed anything today.”
“I had time,” I tell her. “Figured I’d fix that leak in the laundry.”
“Oh, thanks, but I think I know what to do,” she tells me. “It’s on my list of things to do tomorrow.”
“Just how many lists do you have?”
Her cheeks flush, and she glances away, her eyes sparkling like the star at the top of the most breathtaking Christmas tree. “I don’t think you’re prepared for that answer.”
I scoff and make my way toward the laundry room, and she hurries after me. “Hey. I said I can do it,” she whines at my back. “I appreciate you coming to help, but I’ve got it handled.”
“Yep. You’re an independent woman and all that crap. Got it.”
“So . . . you’re going to leave my laundry sink alone?”
“No,” I say, striding into the laundry and putting my tools up on the counter. “I’m going to save us both the time and effort and fix it now so that I don’t have to come back here tomorrow and shuffle around my schedule just to have to fix it after you’ve made it worse. But really, I appreciate your can-do attitude.”
Blair groans. “You’re impossible.”
A grin pulls at my lips. “And you’re my new assistant. Congratulations.”
Blair rolls her eyes and lets out a resigned sigh before stepping deeper into the laundry room. “Fine,” she grumbles. “What do you need?”
I open the cupboards beneath the laundry sink and point. “Get your fine ass under there and shut off the main. It’s the—”
“I know what it is,” she huffs before getting down on her hands and knees.
My grin widens. I really don’t need the help. After all, I’m going to have to get down there anyway, but watching her do it is like the cherry on top of an insanely good ice cream sundae.
Blair gets back to her feet and fixes me with a hard stare, her arms crossed over her chest, unaware of the way the movement pushes her firm tits up. “Anything else, Nicholas?”
Hmmmm. The way she says my name like that has my cock twitching to life. Please, baby. Say it again. “Another turkey sub wouldn’t go astray,” I say with a cocky smirk as I grab the tools I’ll need and step toward the leaking sink.
“You know, I wish I could but the bigwigs up in management just announced a new policy for the Wilder kitchen that men with little dick syndrome are no longer permitted to eat any form of sub within the dwelling due to their inability to fuck a woman into oblivion.”
I slowly turn to meet her stare, and the second I do, she’s locked in my hold. A smug smile flitters across her lips, and I can only imagine the mental high five she’s giving herself right now. “You know damn well what I’m working with,” I rumble, watching her smug grin falter before she visibly swallows. “And judging by the fact you’re still screaming my name after six fucking years, nobody else’s, that only proves that no one else has ever been able to fuck you like I do. Not even close.”
She swallows again, and now I’m the one with a smug-as-fuck grin.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“There might have been someone,” she argues, her voice hitching an octave higher, a clear sign she’s talking shit. “Maybe two. Maybe even twenty.”
I scoff as I reach for the tapware and start loosening them so I can figure out what’s going wrong. “That’s bullshit, and you know—” Water spurts up from the loosening tap, the pressure so great it shoots the tapware right up to the ceiling as water instantly drenches the laundry. “Ahhh fuck,” I rush out as Blair’s high-pitched screech almost deafens me.
“Turn it off. Turn it off!” she screams.
“That’s what you were supposed to do,” I say, dropping down beneath the sink and reaching for the main, quickly realizing that instead of turning it all the way off, Blair turned it in the opposite direction. I hurry to twist it all the way back, and the water quickly shuts off, but the damage has already been done.
I fall back to my ass, gaping up at the water coating the ceiling, and honestly, I’m fucking dumbfounded. I can’t say that’s ever happened before. Water drips all around me into the pools flooding the tiles and as my gaze falls to Blair, I can’t help but smirk.
She’s drenched, and not just like she’s done a quick dash through the rain. She looks like a drowned rat. Long brunette locks stick to the side of her face as her top forms to her body like a second skin, her nipples hardening from the chill.
“What the fuck just happened?” she breathes, the corners of her lips pulling into an amused grin as she meets my stare.
