I’d slept in a shed out back for the first five years while I built it. The land legally belonged to Ernie as I put it in his name, and since there were over a hundred acres, I offered him a piece of it. He declined, said he’d rather hear the sounds of the city than the chirping of birds in the country.
Regardless of how careful I’d been though, nothing stayed hidden for long and I was treading dangerous waters with London being with me.Hands and KneesTHREE WEEKS AND we were making tortoise-pace progress. Raven, and she was still fuckin’ Raven, followed the rules so well that it pissed me off because I wanted her to break them. The worst was, she slept beside me and when she thrashed from whatever fucked with her head, I had to hold her and holding her made me think of London.
I was pretty certain she’d have let me sink inside her, but I never would because of that word—let. She’d let me. I wanted more than let and I wasn’t taking it until she gave me more than that.
I could be a bastard and cruel when it came to getting what I wanted from my targets, but I didn’t fuck chicks who spread their legs because they were forced to. A man who forced a girl was weak and pathetic. I was neither. I also refused to fuck a girl who got paid for it, whether that was their choice or not.
I got hard seeing the desire in a woman’s eyes, feeling their pussy clench, hearing their need with their cries, their panting. I wanted them to beg me to give it to them. My life was filled with pain and deceit, but with sex, I demanded real.
I rarely slept after she calmed from a nightmare, and that night was no different. I spent the rest of the early morning sanding the hardwood floors in the spare bedroom.
That was where she found me the next morning.
Ironic that I was the one on my knees.
I tossed the sanding pad aside.
The look on her face was shock when she saw me and it was rather amusing. I pulled down the light blue mask covering my mouth and nose, sat back on my ass, bent my knees and rested my arms over them as I looked at her standing in the doorway. Dust particles fell from the strands of my hair and covered my jeans. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of my face and across my brow. I ran the back of my arm across my forehead.
“You need something?”
She shook her head and her eyes roamed over the newly sanded surface. I’d found an old abandoned barn and ripped out the floor boards and brought them here. They needed a lot of work, but there was nothing like century-old hardwood. I didn’t do fake with sex or when it came to building my house.
She bit her lip and then to my surprise, she asked, “Can I help?”
Interesting. “Eat yet?”
“No.”
“Go eat then, yeah, you can help.”
There. Right fuckin’ there. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. She probably didn’t even realize she’d done it.
She nodded, left, and I went back to work.
She was back in ten minutes and I had a sanding pad ready for her. I held it up and she walked over and took it.
“You can work on this one.” I placed my palm on a wide board. “Ever sand before?”
“No.”
I smiled. “Didn’t think so. But you’re a scientist so you’re precise and calculated. That’s what I need here. Sand too much in one spot and we get a dip in the wood. Come here, I’ll show you.” I urged her to kneel beside me and when she hesitated, I realized why. Fuck, right. “You can kneel, London.” Maybe she should’ve figured that out herself by now, but I was feeling generous.
She kneeled beside me and I curled my fingers around her wrist and placed her palm on the floorboard I’d just finished.
“This is what you want.” I slowly dragged her palm back and forth over the smooth surface, my arm hovering over hers, bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. “You feel how soft that is? Smooth. Even.”
“Okay.”
I released her hand and tapped my hand on the board she was to work on.
She crawled over to it and started sanding. I watched her for a few minutes, her hair falling forward and skimming the floor as she worked. She put her back into it and fine dust rose around her. I got up, pulled off my mask and walked over to her.
She stopped, looking up at me. “Am I doing it wrong?”
I smiled. “No. You’re good with your hands. But I already knew that.” Of course, that had double meaning. She caught it, too, meaning she was letting those memories in.