The three of us carried the dishes back to my house. When Quentin tried to squeeze in to claim the sink first, Val casually asked whether my handyman had finished the repairs "you keep needing your employer's input on."
Quentin's face turned beet red at that comment. His nostrils flared—something I thought human beings couldn't do, but Quentin sure could. He fisted his hands, seeming about to erupt.
A fist fight was the last thing I needed, so I shooed Quentin out of the house, telling him to get back to work on the repairs.
I tried to shoo Val away, but the man was so large and strong I couldn't budge him. Even kicking his feet didn't make an impression. He flashed me a smile and went back to washing the dishes. That meant I stood beside him drying those dishes and trying not to stare at his ass. Those tight jeans didn't conceal much, though I couldn't see the bulge of his dick since he was leaning into the counter.
My mind kept flashing me back to earlier today when he'd shoved his face between my thighs. God, that had felt incredible. His hot, slick tongue working my flesh. His lips sucking. His fingers pressing into the backs of my thighs. I'd been so close to climax. If Quentin hadn't knocked on the door, I might have enjoyed a rockin' orgasm. Instead, I had to take care of the breakfast mess while my body throbbed from thwarted bliss.
Oh, and I remembered the glimpse I'd gotten of his aroused cock. When I'd pushed Val away from me, I'd seen it. Damn, the man was beyond well-hung. His erect penis was bigger, thicker, and even more impressive than when it hung slack. I wanted that inside me. I wanted him. More than anything, I'd wanted to tell Quentin to go to hell so I could mount Val right here in the kitchen.
Too complicated, I reminded myself. He was a notorious celebrity.
Well, I didn't have to get attached to him or get enmeshed in any kind of relationship. We could have sex, period. I could satisfy this outrageous craving for him that had me acting like a horny teenager and then move on.
Letting him go down on me in the kitchen? For pity's sake, I was thirty, not sixteen.
Once we'd finished with the dishes, Val turned to face me and leaned his hip against the counter. "Why don't you have a dishwashing machine?"
"Those things are expensive, and you have to practically wash the stuff before you put it in the dishwasher anyway." I replaced the dish towel on the little hanger attached to the counter, only in part as an excuse to look away from him and his hot bod, not at all disguised by his clothing. "I'm not above manual labor."
"You need more than a handyman. You need a team of employees."
"I've done fine so far."
He touched my arm. "When was the last time you took a day off?"
The warmth of his hand on my bare skin set off a flurry of goose bumps. My nipples went hard. I struggled to keep from sounding breathless when I told him, "My work habits are none of your concern."
He moved closer.
Too close. I could smell him, that indefinable essence of man that made everything inside me perk up and take notice. No, it wasn't the essence of man as in any old man. It was the essence of him.
His fingers curled around my arm. "Why haven't you hired anyone else? Why only Quentin?"
I noted the way his voice took on a faint sharp edge when he spoke my handyman's name. "It's complicated."
"You can tell me. I won't post it on Twitter." He winked. "I save that for sex tapes."
"Uh-huh." I considered walking away but decided I had no reason not to tell him the truth. I faced him and said, "When I started this business five years ago, I didn't have much money. My dad inherited this place from his great uncle, but he and my mom wanted to retire to the Florida Keys, not to the Oregon wilderness. They gave me this property. My parents also gave me ten thousand dollars to get started with, and I took out a loan for the rest, mainly to pay for building the guest house. I paid off the loan six months ago, which means I don't have enough left over to afford more employees or the other improvements I'd like to make."
"I would be happy to invest."
Folding my arms over my chest, I squinted at him. "Invest? That would mean you get your money back eventually, but I don't think that's what you really mean."
"Call it a gift, then."
"Oh-ho, no." I shook my head, wagging a finger at him. "I don't accept payment for sex."
A smirk stretched his lips. Amusement sparkled in his eyes and crinkled the skin around them. "That almost sounds like an invitation to fuck you."
"You think everything I say is an invitation."
"Because it is." He wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me into his big, firm body. "We both want the same thing, sex with no strings. Stop fighting it. At the end of two weeks, I'll go home and we will never see each other again. What have you got to lose?"
My sanity. My self-respect. My heart.
I wouldn't fall for him. I barely knew Val, and I had no intention of getting to know him better. Sure, that's why I'd explained my financial situation to him. Ugh. As much as I would've loved to take a wild roll in the hay with him, I needed to shut this down ASAP.