Page 116 of Not That Ridiculous

I was torn, I really was. I wanted to make Kevin happy. However, I also wanted to go to bed in a few hoursnoton a building site, which was what my room would turn into if I let Kevin and his sledgehammer anywhere near it. “I don’t know, Kevin.”

“It’s got to be done some time. Why not now?”

Yes, it did need to be done sometime. But whyrightnow?

Kevin slid a hand from my hip around to my front to cup my groin. “Oh,” he said. “Like that is it?”

I swatted him away with an irritated tut and headed back inside.

He crowded behind me. “I will definitely have sex with you,” he said as we went into the kitchen. “Don’t worry. You’ll get yours.” He slung an arm around my waist and gnawed briefly on the back of my neck.

I couldn’t keep back the wanting noise it drew out of me, and Kevin turned me in his arms. He stared at me in silence.

One side of his mouth curled up.

I rolled my head back and glared up at the ceiling. “Fine,” I said. “You can sledgehammer my bedroom wall.”

“And then you.”

“And then me.”

“If you really don’t want me to go at your wall today, Charlie, I won’t. I can always go and have a poke around in your loft instead.” He gave me a winning smile.

“You aresonosy.”

“You are so not. I can’t believe you’ve been here all this time and you haven’t even peeked!”

“I’m busy. Besides, what do you think is even going to be up there? My money’s on old clothes, books, and Christmas decorations.”

“You never know what you might find,” he said.

“Happy to remain ignorant,” I said. “Are we doing this or not, because?—”

“Yes!” He pecked a kiss on my lips and rushed off, yelling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna get my stuff!”

I watched him go, shaking my head.

Ten minutes later,Phil was napping in the kitchen, Kevin had hauled his ‘stuff’ into my room, and I was stretched out on my bed, watching him roll out what he’d told me was carpet protection film. It looked like a supersized roll of clingfilm, and I winced at the thought of what would come up when he removed it.

If I’d known he was going to come over today and give my bedroom carpet a Brazilian, I’d have at least hoovered.

I tried telling him not to bother. The carpet, like everything else, had come with the house, and getting rid of it was on my epic list of home improvements.

He did a bit of heavy breathing when I mentioned the list, but he was in professional work mode, and he wouldn’t be swayed. He taped up the area in front of the wall and tossed an old sheet on top of the film to catch the majority of the debris, talking me through it as he did so.

He really, truly, was into this.

I’d known it, of course—he’d already done my cabinets and front door, and it hadn’t been just to get into my pants. And let’s not forget, while my list of home improvements was still in my head, he had an actual project plan in a binder. He’d mentioned it often enough.

I did my best not to lounge there perving on him while he was being a professional, but it was hard. The man was on all fours, for god’s sake. His arms bulged. His cargo trousers strained over his firm, round arse.

I wanted to go over there and drape myself over him.

That was it. Nothing else. I’d mount him, and die happy.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

I crossed my arms behind my head and shuffled down the pillows. “I most definitely am, thank you.”

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