Page 40 of Hot for the Jerk

“I’m going to stoke the stove, then head to bed,” he said, moaning a little as he stood up and stretched his arms over his head, showing off a small sliver of his very ripped midriff when his too tight T-shirt rode up a little.“You staying up?”

I shook my head.“No, I think I’ll come to bed too.”

All he did was grunt as he made his way to the woodstove, put on a few more pieces, and checked the dampers.

I made sure all the doors were locked—front and back—grabbed the lantern and followed the man with the beard, crooked smile, and broad shoulders up the pitch-black stairs to the room we shared.

“You go ahead first,” he said, jerking his chin toward the bathroom door when we entered the slightly chilly bedroom.There weren’t enough bricks for us to take some to bed too, but we figured we’d be fine.The older guests needed them more than we did.

Nodding, I thanked him and closed the door behind me, using the light from my phone to guide me as I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and gave myself a thorough sponge-bath everywhere else.

“Don’t be stupid,” I murmured, staring at myself in the mirror.“Don’t.Be.Stupid.”With an affirmative nod, I exited the bathroom, flicked my gaze to his, tossed on a big smile and said, “All yours.”

Jagger climbed off the bed where he waited his turn and nodded before entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.I exhaled through thinly parted lips before hastily changing into a new pair of underwear and my pajama pants.Nothing wascleanexactly, but I never felt right about going to sleep in what I wore all day.

Climbing under the covers, I stared up at the antique floral ceiling tiles.I couldn’t remember seeing those before.Were they there last night?

Duh!

Growling at myself and my stupidity, I clenched my molars.Of course they were there last night.Lenora didn’t have our bedroom ceiling replaced in one day, during a power outage and storm.For fuck’s sake.I had no excuse for my lunacy either.I was stone-cold sober.

I growled again, then started to count the tiles starting from the far left corner.

I’d successfully counted all thirty-eight tiles four times when Jagger emerged from the bathroom.He stalked that monstrous frame with the wide shoulders and defined traps across the room to his duffel bag where he ripped his T-shirt off.“You’re cool if I sleep shirtless?”he asked.

“Uh … yeah.”

“Cool.Thanks.That shirt rubs.”He lifted his arm to inspect the spot, and fuck me, my clit started to throb at the sight of his armpit hair.His motherfucking armpit hair.What was wrong with me?

He ran his hand over a spot I assume was red and slightly tender, but I couldn’t actually see any discoloration because of the dimmed lantern light on his nightstand.I also actively avoided looking at him.God forbid I got even more turned on by something weird—like a mole on his back or something.

He put his arm down and wandered over to the seating area at the window, gathering a bunch of pillows into his arms.But that just showcased his arms.His well-defined, veiny, bunched and flexed arms.

“Jagger?”

Spinning around with an armful of pillows, he jerked his bearded chin at me.“Yeah?”

“What if I want you to show me?”

I totally expected him to smirk, throw it in my face that he was right, and I was weak and wrong, and he was the winner in this game of sexy chicken.But he didn’t.He didn’t say anything for an agonizing moment, he simply stared at me.

I kicked the blankets off, embarrassment making me unbearably hot, and swung my legs over the side of the bed.“Never mind.Ignore me.I’m an idiot.”Burying my face in my hands, preparing to sleep in the bathtub, I beelined it for the bathroom, but he caught me.

“Raina, stop.”

I still cradled my face, but his arms on my shoulders forced me to stand still.

“Look at me.”

Spreading my fingers, I peered out at him from between them.

Gently, he peeled my hands from my face.“You’re not an idiot.And I’m not going to ignore you.”

I glanced away, up to the top left corner of the room.All he did was move his body so that he was in my direct line of sight.“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing.I still am.Your husband—may he rest in peace, if that’s what you think he deserved—sounds like a shithead.Like a selfish bastard who didn’t know a good woman when he had it.I think every woman should know what it feels like to be taken care of—” His gaze turned warning.“Even strong-headed, independent women like you, Rosebush.”

I swallowed.

“Raina Aaronson, would you like me to go down on you?”His gaze bore into me, but not an ounce of teasing was in those soulful, blue eyes, deeper than the deepest lake, and just as mysterious.

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