Page 115 of Renard's Deliverance

“But why? That seems silly.”

“Have I got a dick?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never got to see it or play with it.”

“Gem,” he growled before she found herself pressed up against his truck with him looming over her.

Hellooo.

Now this is what she was talking about. Her heart raced in anticipation as he leaned his hands on the truck above her.

A small bit of fear tried to infiltrate her arousal, but she shoved it down.

No bringing up the past. Stefan had to stay buried.

So, yep, she ignored the fear and stared bravely up into Renard’s face.

This is Renard.

Renard. Renard.

“What is your name?” she asked.

He blinked? “How the fuck did we go from talking about my very real dick to my name?”

“I don’t know, but I just realized that I don’t know if Renard is your first or last name. I should know that, right?”

“Last.” He turned and walked away.

Drat.

She’d ruined that moment. “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asked as he pulled out the two sanders and carried them inside.

Opal picked up the brushes. She’d grab the stain, but she didn’t want to push him too far.

He was a sadist, after all.

Picking up the brushes, she carried them into the house. Renard walked out of the spare bedroom as she entered the hallway.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Uh oh.

“What?” she countered.

“That.” He nodded at the brushes in her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Then suddenly he was there, close to her, staring down at her.

With a rather scary look on his face.

“Carrying the brushes.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Thought I made myself clear outside, Gem. Do you need me to remind you?”

Suddenly, she was rethinking her plan to poke the bear.

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