by Cathryn Fox
“Step aside.”
My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of Alek’s voice. I turn to find him tugging on a pair of gloves and handling the cart like it’s his business to do so. I glare at him, even though my stupid stomach is doing some weird happy dance that might resemble the macarena.
Get it together, girl.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His look is pure confusion when his eyes meet mine. “Loading this onto the back of your cart. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Well, obviously I know what you’re doing,” I blurt out hoping I sound more frustrated than aroused, because holy hell, he looks good enough to eat standing there in his jeans and faded T-shirt, his hair a tousled mess like he jumped out of bed, and took off without running a comb through it.
“Then maybe the question you should be asking is why?”
“Okay, why are you so annoying?” I ask.
His lips quirk. “Nice to see you too.”
My libido jumps into overdrive. “I didn’t say I wasn’t happy to see you,” I say as he maneuvers the cart around me and heads outside. I finish paying quickly and follow him out. His muscles flex as he lifts the heavy bags.
“You don’t have to do my work for me.”
“I know.”
“This is my job. My responsibility. Not yours.”
“I know that, too.”
“You don’t—”
Before I can get another word out, he’s there, right there, his mouth inches from mine. Air leaves my lungs at the intensity in his stare. He cups my elbow, holds me like he fears I’m going to bolt, and in a low, deep voice he says, “I’m responsible for your injury and for the next ninety-six hours I’m responsible for you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
His breath gusts across my lips. “Would I be here if I were kidding?” His gaze moves over my face, checking the lump that has gone down significantly since yesterday and the dilation in my pupils.
I breathe in the fresh, soapy scent of his skin, and hope my knees don’t give out. God, if I wobble, he’d likely add another twenty-four hours to our time together. Dammit, now I want to wobble.
Then why are you fighting this, Alyssa?
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Yeah, you are,” he says with a small grin, and I get the feeling he’s talking about something else entirely.
“Alek—”
His eyes go soft when I say his name. “I’m helping, whether you want it or not.” He shrugs. “You probably won’t even know I’m here.”
I doubt that.
“You were right when you said you were stubborn,” I mumble.
“You’re one to talk.”
“Are you sure I’m not keeping you from something? I’m guessing you have better things to do.”
“Is this it?” he asks and tosses the last bag of soil onto the pile. I nod and he steps close again, humor gone from his eyes. That intensity is back tenfold and a quiver moves through me. “You were gone when I woke up. It worried me.”
My heart pounds and I struggle to form a thought at the raw way he’s looking at me, need and hunger evident in his gaze. I’m sure my face mirrors his. This tension between us, my God, if we stand too close to the fertilizer, I fear we might detonate it.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. It wasn’t my intention. You just did so much for me already.”
His eyes narrow. “Why did you leave money?”
I wave my hand toward his abandoned vehicle. “Your car. I didn’t want you to have to walk.”
He goes completely silent, and something that looks like astonishment pools in his eyes. “Jesus,” he mumbles and scrubs the sexy scruff on his face. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say with a grin throwing his words back at him and hoping to lighten the mood.
He grins. “I’m here to work, Aly,” he says, his voice so low and sexy it strokes my nether region. “So work me.”
Oh, God, do not think about the way you could ‘work’ him.
Too late.
But he clearly doesn’t want to start anything with me.
“Yeah, okay,” I croak out. “We need to finish Mrs. Henderson’s lawn and then I need to go to the storage shed to get the lawn mower.”
“Okay.” He holds his hand out, and I stare at it.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “See, I was right.”
“About?”
“You’re still not thinking straight. Good thing I showed up when I did.”
He’s probably right. I’m not thinking straight, but how is a girl supposed to keep her wits about her when he’s so goddamn hot, and helpful, and just so…everything.
“Keys,” he says, like I took a good hit to the head, and it’s messing with my memory. I’m about to protest when he says, “I’ve already proven I know how to handle her.” His knuckles brush mine, and a hard quiver moves through me. “I actually think she might like my touch.”
Holy freaking Lord.
She does.
She totally does.
But he’s not talking about me, is he?
Then again, maybe he is.
“Fine.” I plunk the keys into his palm and storm off like I’m pissed off. But I’m not. I’m a completely independent woman who can take care of herself, but secretly likes it when he goes all alpha on me and shows concern. “You are so annoying,” I mumble, which earns me a chuckle.
He slides into the truck beside me and pulls onto the road, already knowing his way to Mrs. Henderson’s. He glances overhead. “I’m not so sure you’re going to be able to mow that lawn after we get the soil spread.”
We.
Is it weird how I like the sound of that?
Yes, of course it is, Alyssa.
“Looks like rain.”
I lean forward, and crinkle my nose. “Yeah, I checked the forecast earlier, and it’s not great.”
“What do you do on rainy days if you can’t work?”
“Sometimes I read, or sketch designs.”
“Really? I’d love to see them, and I still want to see this bucket list of yours.” He casts me a quick glance.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I say, and then slap my hand to my forehead. “I think that came out wrong.”
“I have no problem showing you mine,” he says and taps the steering wheel like he just made the winning touchdown, or maybe in his case since he loves hockey, the winning goal.
“Is it called goals in hockey?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, laughter in his voice.
“My ex was on the football team in high school, so I’ve watched that and know it’s called a touchdown, but I don’t really know much about hockey.”
“Yes, it’s a goal,” he says and turns from me, but not before I miss the agitation on his face, but why would he be upset? It’s summer, so maybe he’s missing playing or something.
“Maybe you could teach me. I’ve seen the kids in the neighborhood play street hockey.”
“You want to learn?”
“Something fun to do on a rainy day. Maybe we can pick up some sticks,” I say, even though I think Mr. Landry has a bunch. His kids played, his grandkids played, and now his great grandkids still play.
“I do have to go to the mall.” He cringes. “Please tell me what to buy for a five-year-old girl.”
I pull out my phone. “I’m on it, but we don’t have a big mall here. I’m sure we can still find something for her.”
His smile is so appreciative and sweet, my heart does a little happy dance that I can do something for him in return, considering all he’s doing for me. I study his profile as he drives, let my gaze roam lower, to admire all six feet of muscle and testosterone. Yeah, I bet there are all kinds of things I can do for him in return. Things that are way more fun than shopping. Things that are dirty, and delicious and exciting. He’s a nice guy. Like super nice. My guess is he’s worried about starti
ng something when he has no intentions of sticking around. Maybe later tonight, I’ll show him he has nothing to worry about. Yeah, tonight with my hands and my mouth…
“Something on your mind, Aly?”
“Nothing much,” I say.
“So you’re agreeing to the next one hundred and twenty hours with me then?”
8
Alek
Alyssa’s laugh curls around me as I park her truck and we dash into her apartment. We just finished mowing the lawn, and getting her mower back into her storage shed when the skies opened up. Now we’re headed to her place to pack, because yeah, I think I talked her into spending the next five days with me.
A measure of guilt niggles at me as we hurry to her apartment. Omission is the same as lying, right? And she’s the kind of girl who appreciates the truth. I know I should tell her who I am and what I really do. Hell, she left cab money for me for Christ’s sake, which is the sweetest fucking thing anyone has ever done for me. Although sharing her lunch with me is pretty damn high on the list too. But the longer we’re together, the more we get to know each other, what I do for a living—and the fact that I didn’t tell her—becomes a much bigger issue.
Shit. This is wrong. I know it. I can’t help but worry, though, worry that the second I tell her it will change things between us and make her look at me differently. I’ve seen the reaction many times, and call me a fucking coward, but I’m afraid to open my mouth and ruin what we have here, because yeah, I like her, and I like the way she looks at me.
Last night… Jesus Christ last night I wanted her. In my arms, and in my bed. I wanted to put my mouth all over her, but I stopped myself. I honestly never knew I had such restraint, but once I sleep with a woman it’s over. I’m here for the next couple weeks and I kind of want to spend them with her.
Will sex ruin that?
Can I take a chance?
She’s breathing hard and still laughing by the time we get inside her place. I reach out, brush a wet strand of hair from her forehead. She instantly goes quiet, her eyes locking with mine, and in that moment, all I can think about is kissing her. If I start, I won’t be able to stop.
“I’m wet,” she whispers and a groan catches in my throat. Her innocence and the way she blurts out things that can be construed sexually is seriously fucking with me. She briefly shuts her eyes and shakes her head as she backs up. “From the rain, I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” I say.
“Let me get a quick shower and change into dry clothes. Go get yourself a beer.”
I walk through her cozy apartment, and open the fridge. “Do you want one?” I call out.
“Sure,” she says, and I listen to her rustle around inside her room. I take two beers from the fridge and twist off the caps. After opening a few cupboards, I find a glass and pour hers in.
A stack of papers on the table catch my eye as I tip the beer to my mouth. Plunking myself down, I’m about to riffle through them when a leather-bound book, spread wide open catches my eyes. I scan the list, and can’t fucking believe it. I read through the entire thing, and I’m so engrossed, I don’t hear Alyssa entering the kitchen.
“Ohmigod, no,” she says and dives at the book, but it’s too late. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left it here.” The clean scent of her skin fills my senses, and the sight of her in a T-shirt and frayed jean shorts grips my dick and tugs.
“I forgot I did,” she says.
“I don’t know, Alyssa. I’m not sure Freud would agree with you.” A hot pink invades her cheeks and I cut her some slack by saying, “One of the things on my bucket list is sex while skydiving.” I touch her book. “What you have in here is much tamer.”
She covers her face. “How mortifying.”
I remove her hands, and my heart squeezes tight. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed with me.”
She frowns. “You just read my ridiculous list.”
“I thought we agreed, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” I reach for her, drag her to me, gauging her reaction. The air around us charges with sexual tension, and she shifts between my spread legs. I hold her hips and her head dips, her eyes blazing, matching the firestorm of need inside me.
After a long moment, she finally says, “I do believe that was the agreement, and now that you’ve seen mine...” Her voice is low and full of desire, telling me everything I need to know. I grin at her, and since we’re no longer talking about bucket lists—and if we were, getting her naked would be on the top of my list—I stand.
She tugs at the bottom of my wet T-shirt. “Show me,” she says, and I reach behind my back and peel off my shirt. Her gaze goes to my bare chest.
“Your turn,” I say, and her gaze lifts to mine. She hesitates, and for a second I wonder if she’s changed her mind, but then she steps back, and in one fluid movement, removes her shirt, giving me a beautiful view of her creamy cleavage, and pink nipples straining against a pretty lace bra.
“Now you.”
I grin at her, and release the button on my pants. I shove them down and kick them away, and her gaze drops to the bulge in my boxers. I wave my hand, giving her the floor, so to speak, and she slowly unbuttons her shorts and lets them fall to her feet. I suck in a fast breath. She’s so fucking sweet and sensual, and I’m not even sure she knows it.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, and she smiles at me.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I like the idea of showing, but I need my mouth on you, Aly,” I say, my voice low and deep, barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
Her breathing changes. “What a coincidence.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I need your mouth on me too.”
She gasps as I scoop her up and carry her to her bedroom. I set her down beside her bed, and her hands move to my shoulders. I groan as she touches me, and I dip my head, dying to put my mouth on hers. She wets her bottom lip and my dick twitches, presses against her body, and I press my lips to hers. She’s so damn sweet. I breathe deeply, and sink my fingers into her long, wet hair, tugging a bit so her head tilts more and I can taste the depths of her.
I finally break the kiss, and she writhes against me, her hard nipples scraping my chest in mind-fucking ways. In one quick flick, I have her bra undone, and she shimmies out of it. She steps back and toys with the elastic band on her panties. Damned if I don’t like this sexy, playful side of her.
“About this mouth of yours,” she teases.
I growl and step into her, cupping her beautiful breasts with my hands. Her body softens against mine, and I dip my head to take one hard nub into my mouth. I suck deep, swirl my tongue, and slide one hand down her back to cup her ass.
“God, Alek,” she moans, her warm fingers raking through my hair, and I bite back a chuckle as she holds my head in place, a new kind of desperation about her.
Without removing my mouth from her breast, I back her up and carefully fall over her on the bed. Her legs widen and it’s amazing how well I fit between them. I give one last kiss to her breast and lift my head. Green eyes full of desire meet mine as I shift her to the middle of the bed.
I go to my side, run my hand between her breasts and then lower on her stomach as I drink in the near-naked sight of her. My finger stop when I reach the band of her panties, but I’m not quite ready to remove them. I curl my finger in the elastic and tug. Her resulting groan lets me know I’ve hit the right spot.
“Spread your legs for me,” I say, and she does. I slide my hand up her thigh, so hot from her shower, and from what I’m doing to her. I lightly stroke her through her panties, a taunting little touch that has her calling my name and lifting her hips from the bed. “You like that, Aly?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Is this sweet little pussy aching to be touched?”
She audibly gulps as she nods.
“Last night, I wanted to fuck you,” I admit.
; “Why…why didn’t you?”
“Because I like hanging out with you.” I tug her panties to the side to expose her pink wetness, and my cock throbs. It takes everything I have to form a coherent sentence. “I don’t normally hang out with a girl after sex, and the truth is, I kind of like hanging out with you, so I didn’t want to fuck things up. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to fuck you.”
She nods like she totally understands. “I like hanging out with you too,” she says. “I don’t think sex will fuck that up.”
“Does that mean I get the five days I asked for?” Her eyes fall shut when I rub my thumb over her engorged clit and insert my finger up to the first knuckle. I still inside her, and she shifts trying to force me in deeper.
“Five days?” she asks, her body so hot and needy she’s clearly not thinking straight. “What do you mean?”
“I rear-ended you, and for the next five days you’re mine to take care of.” I inch my finger out. “Say yes.”
Her hips lift. “You don’t play fair, Alek.”
I chuckle at that and slide my finger in deeper. “I play to win.”
“One condition,” she says, her breaths coming fast as I toy with her clit, and lean forward to run the soft blade of my tongue over her nipple.
“What might that be?”
“We get to do this every day.”
“That’s not a condition, Aly. That’s a given. Before our five days are over, I’m going to own every inch of your body.”
Her body trembles beneath me. “No commitment, no expectations,” she adds and while I can’t give her any of those things, for some odd reason her words sting.
“Deal,” I say, and she grips the bedding and tugs as I slip another finger inside her.
“Take me,” she whimpers.
She’s so wet, and so close, but I’m not ready for her to come yet. I finger fuck her a few more times, and she cries when I remove my hand and skim it down her thighs, leaving a trail that my mouth will soon follow.
“No, please,” she says, her eyes wide and wild with desire as her needy voice vibrates through me and massages my aching cock. “I need to come.” Jesus, I love the way I can drive her crazy. But she’s not the only one in the room close to losing it.