He did that crooked grin thing again that I’m pretty sure had the ability to get me pregnant. I pondered asking him to carry me just because I wanted the feel of his hard, firm body pressed against mine.
“Because I asked you to move.”
“Oh.”
My heart thundered in erratic beats as I felt every inch of him press by me and through the narrow doorway of Kylemore cottage.
My insides churned like butter, my palms prickling with newfound desire. It was not the appropriate moment to feel any of those things, but there was something about the way he handled me, something about the way his eyes had held mine from across the room that caused sensations to flutter through every nerve of my body. He left a lasting impression, like a tattoo on my flaming skin.
His eyes caught mine then as we walked through the small kitchen. “Doin’ okay, sweetheart?”
I felt a blush crawl up my chest and heat my neck.
“I—” I paused, struggling to form words when he was looking at me like that—like he could see straight into my soul. “I just—wondered where you wanted me to start today?”
The excuse was lame even as it fell on my ears. My aunt had left a rigorous schedule about how to clean this cottage as she went to visit her sister in Copenhagen for the next two weeks.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at Kylemore Cottage I was to start with the bathroom, then move to the bedroom, followed by mopping the floors in the kitchen and living room and then seeing myself quietly out the door.
“Where’s Trina today?” His voice was throaty and loud and sent a shudder down to my toes.
“She’s visiting my aunt the next few weeks.”
“Why didn’t she tell me that herself?”
“S-she struggles with the language, Sir.”
He cocked one eyebrow, as if assessing me for the truth in my statement.
Heat flamed between my thighs as his gaze lingered. He must hold this power over everyone he meets. And men like him wielded that charm and charisma and fear like a super power. I knew first hand.
“Fine.” He stepped closer, big body dominating my small form. “Start in the kitchen. I’ll check on you later.”
I was so consumed with his closeness, I wondered how I would manage with the way sparks zapped my skin when he brushed up against me to start his next round of chin-ups in the barn doorway.
Three
Larz
My eyes followed the curve of her round ass cheeks as she bent to dust along the trim. Pain radiated through my balls. The need to drop to my knees, push my hands up that denim skirt and slide my tongue along the warm crease was strong. What would the sweet little Pet say when I slid a finger through her hot wetness? A groan vibrated from my lips before I could catch myself.
My eyes darted back to the file in my hands.
She turned and nailed me with her gaze.
I barely repressed a smile.
It was nearly lunchtime and the sweet pet had been here since almost dawn this morning. I was a messy guy, but I knew it didn’t take that long. Trina was in and out in an hour, what had Pet lingering here all morning? I had the feeling she was stretching out her time here. Her time with me. But why?
My eyes were drawn back to her then, the care she spent on the trim of my kitchen cupboards was thorough to be sure.
I cleared my throat, unable to concentrate on the proposal from the venture capitalist in Lisbon with her moving around me and me pretending she wasn’t there when every single cell of my body felt all of her.
I grunted again, this time pushing up from my chair and dropping the file on the table.
“Would you like to know what I wanted to say?” I crossed to her in a few short strides. “I was thinking you look great today. But you look great every day. I’m trying to get work done, but you make it damn hard when all I want to do is push my hands into your hair”—I threaded my fingers through her dark strands —“and fuck your pretty lips with my tongue until you're bruised.”
Pet’s fingers brushed my chest before her eyes fluttered closed like she was waiting for me to kiss her.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to leave?” I ventured, tone softer this time. Little goose bumps popped up on her skin before she tightened her jaw and turned toward the door. “Pet?”
She whipped around, eyes wide and hair floating around her shoulders. “I don’t want to be alone. You don’t understand, I can’t be alone.”
“Why?”
Her face crumpled. “It’s just...since childhood I have anxiety attacks in the middle of the night if it’s too dark and too silent, and out here it’s both! Bulgaria is full of life, and people, and noise. My home was always filled with people and family and laughter and...and....” tears hovered at the edges of her lashes, “The country life is frustrating, I’ve never felt so alone.”