by Anna Argent
Gemma didn’t like thinking about why that might be. Everyone aged. Everyone eventually slowed the pace of their lives. But the idea of Aunt Beth going into a state of decline broke Gemma’s heart.
She couldn’t lose the only parental figure who’d ever really wanted her around. It was too soon. They needed more time together. Years of it.
Saxon’s boots thudded on the wooden stairs, driving away her dark thoughts.
She spread the edge of the blue tarp—which was already littered with several other smaller rugs she’d removed—to make room. Saxon came down the steep steps like he had a pillow on his shoulder, rather than over a hundred pounds of wool rug. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
All Gemma could do was stare. They didn’t grow men like this in the city—not even close. All of their muscles came from a gym, and while that might look good, they couldn’t do the things that muscles earned from hard work could.
Like make her insides quiver.
Saxon eased the rug into the spot she’d cleared. It barely fit, and was definitely in the way of the shelves of canned goods and the door that led into the basement, but there was no help for that right now. Eventually Gemma would get this part of the house straightened up too, but since there was no way Aunt Beth was coming down here with her walker, it wasn’t at the top of the priority list.
The single bare lightbulb in the ceiling cast a network of stark shadows across his face and made his inky black hair even darker. His wide, angular jawline was covered with short beard stubble. He shifted his big body in the small space available, but it put him within inches of Gemma.
At this close distance she could see golden sunbursts brightening his green eyes. All the Grace family had pale green eyes like his. In fact, the feature was so striking and so prevalent that it was known in these parts as “Grace Green.”
She’d forgotten how pretty the color was and how it had the power to make a woman stare long past what was socially acceptable.
A knowing smile warmed his mouth and showed off his bright white teeth. “Do you need help with anything else?”
It was an innocent question, but the only thing she could think about was how she hadn’t had a decent orgasm in months. Maybe longer. He could sure as heck help with that.
Before she could lose her mind and say something stupid, she shook her head and backed away in the hopes of escaping his strong gravitational pull on her.
As she shifted away, she forgot that the cellar was littered with a dozen tripping hazards relocated from upstairs. One of them caught the back of her heel, and she started to tumble backward.
Her mind flooded with her impending doom. She imaged herself careening into the hard, wooden shelving behind her and bashing her head open. Glass jars filled with sticky jam would shatter as they crashed down on her, cutting her skin in a thousand places.
Before any of that could happen, Saxon acted. His reflexes were so fast she didn’t even see him move. One second she was tipping back on the way to concussion-ville, and the next, she was plastered against hot, hard male flesh.
The scent of sunshine, salt and hot skin filled her nose and added to the dizzy swoop spinning through her head. She didn’t know if the vertigo was caused from the sudden motion, the relief of safety, or from his touch. But whatever it was, the feeling was potent enough to make her knees go soft.
His strong hands tightened around her arms to hold her up. Her breasts flattened against the chiseled contours of his chest, and her nipples puckered in celebration. Every cell in her body perked up as she realized that she was in the embrace of Saxon Grace—two hundred pounds of potent, raw sex appeal in one convenient, muscular package. Sure, maybe he was only holding her because of her clumsiness, but her hormones didn’t seem to know the difference.
How long had it been since she’d been held so close? She couldn’t remember, but she did know that she’d never before felt such an instant, visceral thrill scorch through her the way it did now, inside his firm grip.
If she wasn’t careful, this man was going to become the lead star in every one of her very secret, very sweaty fantasies.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep with concern. Tiny twin lines formed between his black brows, giving her the strongest urge to press her lips against them to smooth them away.
A response to his question rolled through her head, but no words made it past her lips. All she could do was stare and revel in the way she felt inside his strong grip.
“Gemma?” he asked again with a heavier tone of worry.
“I’m fine,” she finally managed. “Just…” swept away, quivering, aroused out of my mind, “…clumsy.”
He offered her a wink and chivalrous smile filled with the Grace family’s signature charm. “Never that.”
He took a tiny step back, putting a couple of inches between their bodies. He watched her for a second like he was worried she might fall over again, and then when he was satisfied she was stable, he let go.
Saxon’s fingers slowly grazed across her bare arms, raising goosebumps of delight as they passed. She could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering on her skin. Now that her nipples were exposed to the cool air, they tightened even more, until they were so hard they ached.
He glanced down, his gaze lingering for a long second before he looked into her eyes again. “If there’s nothing else you need me to lift, I should get going.”
Now that no part of her was touching any part of him, her brain started to work right again. “No, nothing else to move right now. Thank you.”
He gave her a nod, then stepped back to clear a path for her to reach the stairs. “After you.”
Gemma slipped past him, hoping he couldn’t see how furiously she was blushing in the dim light. It wasn’t like her to get so utterly swept away by a man.
Then again, Saxon Grace was no ordinary man. Any red-blooded girl could be forgiven for falling apart a little when faced with such potent male company.
A light breeze cooled her cheeks as she came out of the cellar. All she had to do now was hold it together long enough for him to walk back to his truck and leave her to quiver in peace.
“Thanks for your help,” she said as he closed the cellar doors. At least he wasn’t looking at her with those green eyes, or giving her that charming smile.
“Anytime, Gemma. I’m glad Aunt Beth has you looking out for her. If there’s anything else I can do, call me, okay?” He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.
She took it, not because she planned to call and bother him, but because it would have been rude not to. And because if she didn’t take it, he might keep checking on Aunt Beth and get Gemma all worked up again every time he came over.
She had too much to do for big, handsome, charming, sexy distractions like Saxon.
“I will,” she lied.
His fingers brushed hers for a split second as he handed her the card, but even that fleeting contact was enough to get her insides skittering all over the place again.
Just then, Cotton Cyrus’s ancient Oldsmobile pulled into Aunt Beth’s driveway. He’d taken her to physical therapy like he had every day since she’d been home from the rehab center. He lived only a few doors down and had insisted on helping. As much as it bothered Gemma to let someone else drive Aunt Beth, Gemma needed the time alone to take care of making the house safer. There was no way her aunt would let her do it while she was home.
“You should go,” Gemma told Saxon. “You don’t want Aunt Beth knowing you were my accomplice.”
He gave a casual shrug that made muscles along his neck and shoulders dance. “I can take the heat for you. Say it was my idea.”
Gemma was so stunned by his offer, all she could do was stare at him, blinking. “What? No. I can’t let you take the fall for me. Besides, she needs to face the fact that her life has to change at least a little if she wants to keep living in her own home.”
“If things go badly and you need backup, I live rig
ht across the street in the slate blue Craftsman.” He pointed across the street to a tidy little house that backed up to the elementary school. “Aunt Beth has never been able to stay mad at me for more than a few hours—even when I egged her house when I was twelve.”
“You were the one who did that?” she asked, stifling a grin. Gemma hadn’t been here that Halloween, but she’d heard the horror stories of the event for months after it happened.
He grimaced. “Not one of my better childhood moments. I’m still mowing her lawn to make up for it, eighteen years later.”
Mr. Cyrus hurried around the Olds and got Aunt Beth’s walker out of the back seat. He patiently held it while she eased out of the car. She moved more slowly than usual, like therapy had worn her out.
“Thanks again, but I need to go,” she told Saxon. “Time to face the music.”
We hope you enjoyed chapter one of The Sweetest Temptation by Anna Argent. To read more click here.
Books by Anna Argent
The Whisper Lake Series
The Longest Fall
The Sweetest Temptation (September 2017)
The Hardest Fix (November 2017)
The Taken Series
Taken by Storm
Taken by Surprise
Taken by Force
The Stone Men Series
Made Flesh
Heart of Stone
About the Author
After spending years working as an engineer in corporate America, Anna traded it all in for a quiet life in the country. She lives with her husband on a small cattle ranch in the Ozark Mountains, penning stories filled with love, lust and a healthy dose of magic. She loves to hear from her readers at [email protected].
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