“Less.” She squeezed the trigger on the hose and shot him with a short burst of water, if for no other reason than to get some space between them so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
He cursed and jumped back, dropping the bucket and laughing. “You suck, lawyer girl.”
She arched a brow and held up the nozzle again. “What was that, chef? I didn’t hear you.”
He lifted his palms, eyes smiling and droplets of water dripping down his chest. “I said you’re wonderful and kind. A queen among women.”
“I thought so.” She turned toward the bus and dragged the hose closer before letting loose and spraying down Adele.
Wes worked alongside her, soaping the bus with a long-handled contraption that had a sponge on the end and could reach all the way to the roof. Once Rebecca had sprayed everything down, she took on the lower parts with a fat, handheld sponge.
Wes played an old-school rock station on his phone, and they sang along as they worked, in between talking about everything and nothing like they had each night on the phone. How he’d ended up a chef. What kind of law she’d originally wanted to practice. What bands they’d liked when they were growing up. And eventually the conversation devolved into a heated debate about the brilliance (her) or sacrilegiousness (him) of boxed macaroni and cheese. They’d had to end that one in a stalemate.
With all the joking around and friendly conversation, Rebecca had settled herself down and banked the dirty thoughts. Wesley was gorgeous, yes, but she was enjoying his company and the conversation as much as the view. He was easy to be around. She had male friends at work, but all their conversations were laced with unspoken competition and posturing, which could be exhausting. And the friends-with-benefits arrangements she’d had in the past had been a lot more about convenient benefits than actual friendship. Acquaintances with benefits more than
anything. She hadn’t kept in touch with any of them. But she could see herself forming a real friendship with Wes—with or without the benefits.
But her even-handed view of things didn’t last long.
An hour into their project, Wes had moved on to cleaning the wheel wells. Rebecca caught herself watching how his back flexed as he scrubbed at the stubborn dirt, a few droplets of sweat making a journey downward to the place where his shorts sank low and revealed the two indentations on each side of his spine. She wanted to catch the drops of sweat with her tongue and lick each dip in his back.
Which was saying something because she’d never had such an intense urge to lick another person.
But when she managed to drag her eyes upward, she noticed a pink tint on his neck that would quickly turn red in the blast of the Texas sun. “Shit.”
Wes turned, peeking back at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been bad about sunburn watch. You’re getting baked. I’ll grab the lotion.”
She dropped her sponge in the bucket and dried her hands before finding Wes’s bag and pulling out the sunblock. She walked it back over and Wes stood, hands dripping with suds. She lifted the bottle, ready to offer it to him, but then had a surge of boldness. “Want me to get it for you? Your hands are wet, and you’re not going to be able to reach your back.”
His gaze dropped to the bottle, then back to her, some invisible wire of electricity wrapping its way around her most sensitive parts. He wet his lips. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
Her thighs clenched like he’d just said, Take me to bed or lose me forever. But this wasn’t Top Gun. This was about sunscreen, so she managed to keep her expression smooth. “Turn around.”
She would start with his back. Backs were safe. Totally neutral. She could handle that. She squirted the lotion into her hands and stepped behind him. After taking a deep breath, she put her hands on his shoulders, and he flinched beneath her. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“Sorry,” she said softly, only half paying attention because the lotion was cool but his skin was hot and smooth beneath her fingertips. The scent of him—lemon soap, grass, and something uniquely him—hit her hard. And low.
She rolled her lips together and tried to focus. “Does it sting? I hope you’re not already burned.”
“No,” he said, his voice lower than before. “It feels good now.”
She added more cream, set the bottle on the ground, and then swept her hands down his back, over the muscles, and dipped her thumbs into those little indentations she’d been admiring, making slow circles. Wes’s muscles rippled with tension beneath her touch.
Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat fast. “Turn around.”
When he did, his gaze was hooded, his attention heavy on her, but he didn’t say a word. He simply leaned over to grab the bottle of lotion and tipped the cream into her hands. She looked down, the eye contact too much, and forced her hands to be steady as he filled them with sunblock again. Every part of her was aware and pulsing in time with her heartbeat now, but when she flattened her hands on the front side of his inked shoulders and dragged the lotion down over his chest, any hope she had of maintaining her cool left her. Every feminine part of her tightened. She kept her face down, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hide her thoughts.
Rebecca tracked her hands lower over his abdomen, watching the muscles tense and dip beneath her fingers, but when she got near his waist, he dropped the bottle and his hands gripped her wrists, stilling her. “Stop.”
She looked up, finding him with his jaw locked and his hazel eyes stormy. She cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
She blinked. “No?”
“If you keep doing this, there’s going to be no hiding from you or anyone who walks by exactly what this is doing to me.”