“I knew it.”
Seth dropped his hands, his gaze swinging from one to the other. “What’d he say? What’d I miss?”
“Forget it,” Ethan told him.
“You guys suck,” Seth complained, and Ethan laughed as Jacob’s truck pulled up.
“Boss is here,” he said. “Let’s go see what he wants to do with the zombie house.”
* * *
Jacob bought the house, despite Seth’s grumblings and dire prediction that they’d all contract hepatitis just from walking into it, and they stripped it down to the shell. It took a little longer than it would have if David had been available, but the morning they were slated to start demo, Abby went into labor. David had been so turned around and agitated when she’d called to tell him she was on her way to the hospital, he’d dropped his keys twice on the way to his truck, then gotten them jammed in the ignition when he’d inserted his house key by mistake. Jacob had laughingly steered the poor slob to his own truck and driven him to the hospital.
Scarlett Magdalena, six pounds and twelve ounces, arrived six hours later. Jacob had given David a fat cigar and two weeks of paid time off to get to know his new daughter, which left Ethan and Seth to handle the bulk of the demo.
It was filthy work. They’d spent most of the first day just hauling out trash—there had obviously been squatters at various times over the years, and the sheer amount of rotting garbage—and the accompanying smell—had Seth renewing his dire predictions of disease. They’d had a small delay while they’d waited for the tests for lead and asbestos to come back, but after the trash was gone and the tests had come back clear, they worked like dogs.
Seth was working on stripping the lathe and plaster walls while Ethan concentrated on ripping up the existing floor. The random width oak was unsalvageable, which was a shame, and much of the subfloor had rotted away. Jacob’s plan was to lay a new subfloor, then replace the hardwood. It wouldn’t be random width oak, but it would be safe as well as attractive. Ethan figured any potential buyers would appreciate not having to worry about falling through to the basement, which he noticed as he peered through a two-foot gap in the subfloor, was currently full of water.
He stripped off his mask. “Hey, Seth.”
The other man finished swinging his sledgehammer through a section of wall, then paused and tugged down his mask. “Yeah?”
“Jacob know we’ve got water in the basement?”
“Yeah.” Taking advantage of the pause in work, Seth reached for the gallon jug of water he’d left by the door and guzzled like a camel. “He’s got somebody coming to pump the water out, tomorrow I think, then the foundation guy’s gonna take a look.”
Ethan reached for his own jug of water. He’d stripped off his shirt in the first hour of work, and he briefly considered just pouring the water over his head. The late July heat was not forgiving. “We’re going to need to bring in more water.”
Seth nodded. “I asked Sadie to bring a couple of gallons. She said she’d bring lunch for both of us.”
“Yeah?” Cheered, Ethan squinted up through a hole in the roof to gauge the position of the sun. “She say when?”
“Should be soon.” Seth set down his empty jug and picked up the sledgehammer again, then set it down at the toot of a horn. A grin broke over his handsome face when he looked up, then stepped through what used to be the front wall of the house to the sagging porch. “Make that now.”
“Thank Christ,” Ethan muttered, and laying his tools aside, walked outside.
Sadie was already climbing out of the car, plastic bags in each hand. She used her hip to nudge her car door shut, then turned to look back at the car. When Ethan followed her gaze, he realized Honey was stepping out of the passenger side with a gallon jug of water in each hand.
Her smile came quickly when she spotted him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He strolled down the little patch of lawn, his hands reaching for the jugs as Seth walked down to take the food from Sadie. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Sadie needed a hand hauling the food, so I volunteered. I wanted to get a look at this place.” Her brows rose slightly. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” He drank in the sight of her. She looked cool and fresh in a mint green dress that swirled around her legs and left her shoulders bare. Her hair was down, lifting in the slight breeze, and made his palms itch to touch. “You look good. I’d kiss you, but I’m filthy.”
Her eyes flared slightly with awareness, then drifted down to take his appearance. Shirtless, sweaty, covered with dirt and dust and God knows what else from the demo.
“Yeah, you are.” She lifted her eyes to his, and his gut gave a little lurch at what he saw there. “Too bad I have a class this afternoon.”
He smiled, slow and deliberate. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Her throat worked as she swallowed, her cheeks going pink as her gaze lingered on his abdomen. Her hand gave a little twitch, as though she wanted to reach out to touch. “What time are you knocking off?”
“Probably be done by four or so.”
She licked her lips. “My class gets out at 3:30. Why don’t I meet you back at my place?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, damp and glistening now from the swipe of her tongue. “That’ll work.”
“I’ll have to clean up after class, so if you get there ahead of me, the back door should be open.” She licked her lips again. “Don’t shower.”
“Excuse me?”
Her blush deepened. “If you get there before I do, don’t shower.”
He grinned. “Why, Ms. Foster. You shock me.” He dropped the water jugs and stepped closer. He trailed a finger down her cheek, careful not to transfer any grime to her pretty skin. “You like dirty?”
Her breath whooshed out, a little puff of air against his chest, and her blush went brighter. “I never have before, but this is really working for me.”
He chuckled. There was a buzz in his blood, a little hum under the skin whenever she was near. Awareness, knowledge, the anticipation of pleasure. She felt it, too; he could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. “I’ve been looking forward to a shower all morning,” he warned her. “If I’m going to wait, you better make it worth my while.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” she said, a husky note entering her voice. Only the knowledge that he’d ruin her dress if he grabbed her kept him from reaching out.
A shout had Honey turning, lifting a hand in acknowledgment before she turned back to Ethan. “I have to go.”
“Then I’ll see you later. Hold still,” he warned, and leaned in, careful not to brush against her as he pressed a kiss to her lips. Her mouth softened and parted, her tongue darting out to tease and tickle. He retaliated by nipping sharply at her bottom lip and chuckled when she squeaked.
He lifted his head, eyes gleaming at the dazed look on her face. “Get out of here before I forget myself and give the neighbors a show.”
She gave a half laugh and took a step back that wasn’t quite steady. “Bye.”
He picked up the jugs of water as she turned and hurried to the car where Sadie waited, waving as they pulled away. Hefting the jugs, he trudged back up the lawn to where Seth sat in the shade of a tree. He’d already torn into the bags, which Ethan saw with delight had contained a bucket of fried chicken and a huge container of coleslaw.
“Here.” He handed off a jug of water, then settled on the cool grass to dig into the bucket.
“So. Honey.” Seth waggled his brows. “Things are getting serious.”
Ethan dug around in the bucket until he came up with a breast. “What makes you say that?”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Dude. She came to see you at work.”
“She helped your fiancé bring you lunch,” Ethan corrected and bit into his chicken.
“Come on. You’re going to sit there and tell me you’re not into her?”
Ethan swallowed. “No, I’m not going to tell you t
hat. But it’s not serious.” Couldn’t be.
Seth snorted. “Right. I see the way she looks at you.”
That made him pause. “How does she look at me?”
Seth shifted uncomfortably. “I have no idea. But Sadie says she looks at you like she’s falling in love with you.”
Ethan snorted over the spurt of panic. “Oh, this is Matchmaker Sadie talking.”
“Shut up. My point is,” Seth said as he dug out a fork for the coleslaw, “you guys look good together. And you clearly like each other. Right?”
“Hmmm.” Ethan chewed thoughtfully. “Seth. Did your fiancée tell you to ask me about my relationship with Honey?”
Seth wriggled a little as his cheeks went scarlet under his tan. “Maybe.”
Ethan grinned. “Why doesn’t she just ask Honey?”
“She did,” Seth mumbled around a mouthful of coleslaw. “Honey wasn’t as forthcoming with the details as Sadie was expecting.”
Ethan snorted out a laugh. “So, she sent you in to gather information?”
Seth sighed. “She hates not knowing stuff. One thing Honey did say was that the sex is excellent, in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t, but that’s always nice to hear.”
Seth waited a beat, then sighed again. “Jeez, man. Don’t make me ask.”
“Ask what?” Ethan said with genuine exasperation. “I’m trying to eat here.”
“I gotta go back with something,” Seth pleaded. “Look, just tell me if you think the sex is good too, and then we can forget we ever had this conversation.”
“I’m in hell,” Ethan muttered, “and it feels a lot like eighth-grade study hall.”
“Forget I said anything,” Seth mumbled.
“Gladly,” Ethan said and snatched the coleslaw.
* * *
By the time Honey got home, her system was humming with awareness. She’d managed to distract herself with work for most of the day, ignoring the low-grade arousal that had been simmering inside her since her lunchtime visit to the job site as she concentrated on her students. The kids in her drawing class were making real progress, and a few of them had signed up for the fall session already. She was pleased they were taking their talent seriously and thrilled she was going to be able to continue to be a part of helping them discover just what they could do.
But as soon as class was over and she headed home, her thoughts turned to Ethan. She was getting out later than she’d expected; it was already after four, so it was possible he was waiting for her. The idea had her wriggling in her seat as low-grade arousal turned to raging lust.
“Jesus,” she muttered as she turned into her driveway, her heart pounding in anticipation. She didn’t see Ethan’s truck, but he often parked at Winnie’s house and walked through the backyard to get to hers.
She hoped he was already here, and she hoped he hadn’t taken a shower yet.
She’d surprised him with the request, she knew, but she’d flat out shocked herself. She’d never been a particularly fastidious woman, one who required her lovers perfectly groomed and coifed and smelling nice, but neither had dirty and sweaty ever done anything for her. But when she’d seen him coming down the little slope of lawn, his shirt off, skin shiny with sweat and gritty with the dirt and debris of demo...well, damn.
She snorted a little as she got out of the car, amused at herself. She was fairly certain that if Seth and Sadie hadn’t been there, and privacy had been a possibility, she might have tackled him then and there.
“Such a perv,” she muttered as she let herself in the back door.
“Who’s a perv?” Ethan asked.
She jumped, spinning around with a hand pressed to her chest. “God, don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. He looked smug, she realized. Smug and intense and just a little dangerous. He stood, barefoot and bare-chested, his jeans riding low on his hips. And, she noted with a little catch in her breath, still sweaty and dirty.
“Thought you were expecting me,” he drawled.
“I was.” She managed to roll her tongue back in her mouth, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his bare chest. “I am. Um. How was the rest of your day?”
“Hot. Dirty.”
“I can see that,” she said faintly.
“I had to hose off halfway through,” he told her as he took a step closer. “The grime was a few layers deep. I couldn’t stand myself. And I did wash my hands.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
She blinked slowly, like a woman waking up from a particularly delicious dream. “Disappointed in what?”
His slow smile made her toes curl. He stepped closer. “Take off your dress.”
Her head was buzzing. “What?”
“Your dress.” He let his gaze drift down over the crisp cotton. “Take it off. Unless you want me to ruin it.”
Her dress? Oh, right. She raised not quite steady hands to the thin straps over her shoulders and nudged them down. The loosened bodice gaped over her breasts, and she hooked her thumbs in the fabric to shove it clear. It hung at her hips, requiring another shove and a little shimmy, then it floated down to lie in a minty pool at her feet. She stood in her kitchen wearing her sandals, a tiny pair of panties the same color as the dress, and nothing else.
“Damn,” he ground out, and she dragged her eyes away from his chest as he stepped forward and finally—finally!—put his hands on her.
His eyes glittered, the blue crystal sharp against the black of his pupils. His jaw was taut beneath the beard, his cheekbones stained faintly with color under the bronze of his tan. One of his hands fisted in her hair to drag her head back as he shoved the other down the front of her panties and into the wet, hot core of her.
Her sharp cry bounced off the walls as sensation speared through her, her hands coming up to clamp onto his shoulders. His harsh groan vibrated against her throat as he pressed his mouth to her.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he muttered, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin. “You’ve been thinking about this all afternoon, haven’t you?” He nipped her with strong teeth when she didn’t answer, eliciting a shocked gasp. “Haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she rasped. His skin was hot under her hands, against her breasts, hot and slick. She could smell him, the tang of sweat, dirt, the underlying musk that was all Ethan. It wrapped around her senses, digging in. Fresh need, strong and sharp, rose up within.
He grunted with satisfaction and licked where he’d bit, soothing and enticing in equal measure. His fingers pumped between her thighs, sliding easily through the slick wetness there. She shuddered, her breath catching at the delicious sensation of penetration. His hands were rough, his fingers hard as they stabbed into her, drew slowly back, and stabbed in again. She went up on her toes, straining to get closer.
His chuckle was loud in her ear. “I bet I could make you come right here, with just my fingers.”
Her whole body tightened at the suggestion, making him chuckle again. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back even further. “Look at me,” he growled, and she opened eyes she hadn’t even been aware of closing. His eyes burned into hers, gleaming with lust and need and something else, something dark and demanding that wouldn’t let her look away.
The hand buried between her legs twisted, rasping against delicate tissues and wringing a gasp from her before he pulled his fingers slowly free until they pressed lightly against her. “Don’t look away,” he told her. “If you look away, if you close your eyes, I’ll stop.”
“No,” she moaned, her breath coming in harsh pants. Her cunt clamped down, empty and wanting. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t look away,” he said again and shoved his fingers deep.
Her breath strangled in her throat, her eyes burned into his as he set a fast, hard rhythm. Tension coiled in her belly, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every twist of his w
rist. He curved his fingers to rub the front wall of her pussy, dragging against her g-spot with relentless pressure, and abruptly she shattered.
A high, thin cry slipped from her throat, her fingers clenching on the slick skin of his shoulders. Her eyes went blurry, but she kept them open, kept her gaze on his face as her pussy clamped down in hard, rhythmic pulses on his thrusting fingers. “Don’t look away,” he murmured, and eyes on hers, took her mouth.
It was the most sensual, intimate moment of her life. His fingers deep inside her, prolonging the spasms of her orgasm, his tongue stabbing into her mouth in a mimic of that deep caress, and all the while his eyes were open on hers, pinning her in place, keeping her on the ragged edge of glory so the first orgasm had barely faded when the second began.
He ripped his mouth from hers on a curse, his fingers continuing to thrust as his other hand left her hair to fumble at his waistband. He tore at the buttons on his fly until his cock sprung free, hard and thick and already weeping fluid at the tip. He ripped his fingers free from her cunt, clamped both hands on her waist, lifted her off her feet and impaled her on his jutting cock.
Through the roaring in her head she heard him curse again, felt his fingers digging into her hips as he jerked her on his hard length with bruising force once, twice, then on the third he was coming, his cock pulsing hard inside her. He threw his head back, his teeth gritted against the fierce pleasure. The long column of his throat was right in front of her, damp with sweat. Caught up in the sheer carnality of the moment, she leaned forward and set her teeth on him.
“Fuck!” His hips jerked hard against her, hands spasming on her waist, and she knew she’d find bruises there later.
Panting, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung on as his head dropped forward to rest on hers. They clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck, a little in awe of the storm and grateful to have survived it.
Gradually his grip eased, stroking instead of clutching, and he let out a long, shaky breath. “Shit, that almost killed me,” he wheezed.
She laughed weakly and finally closed her eyes as she turned her face into his throat. “Almost killed you?”
Honey and the Hitman Page 16