Page 5 of I Knead You Tonight

I wave away the stench and scowl at him. “So much more than you think.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just grins around his cancer stick and stares at me with those annoyingly beautiful baby blues.

The thing I hate most about Winston is that I don’t hate the way he looks.

I don’t hate it at all.

Speaking from my most basic human instincts, Winston Daniels is fuckable.

But I’ll be the last person to ever fuck him.

He’s traditionally attractive with a strong, square jaw that’s perpetually lined with stubble, light brown hair that curls in just the right way when grown out, and don’t even get me started on his eyes.

The brightest blue I’ve ever seen.

Flawless in their beauty yet filled with secrets.

I hate them almost as much as I hate him because they make me want to know everything he’s hiding.

The cloud of smoke he’s created swirls around him, and right now he’s the picturesque version of a bad boy. Dark boots, tight jeans, a simple black tee, and a flannel shirt tied around his waist. The very muscles I just had my hands on strain with every movement he makes. Even if I hadn’t felt them for myself, it’s clear Winston spends a lot of time working out. I mean, what else is he supposed to do with all his free time since he hardly shows up to work at his dad’s pizzeria and has no other discernable extracurricular activities besides chasing beach bunnies?

“Like what you see?”

I roll my eyes. “Please. You wish.”

He grins again, and I ignore the pinch I feel between my legs.

Fucking traitorous body.

I brush the stray hairs back from my face and pull my jacket tighter around me, ready to take my leave because I can’t stand to spend one more minute in his presence. I need to get home.

“You better not say a word to anyone about this,” I warn as I brush past him.

His hand wraps around my wrist yet again, stopping me in my tracks.

“Let me go, Winston. I really need to get home, and the bus will be here in less than ten minutes. Some of us have responsibilities, you know.”

He ignores me, taking one last puff of his cigarette before tossing the butt to the side.

“What’d I tell you?”

I scrunch my nose, not sure what he’s getting at. “That you have penis wrinkles?”

“No. That you’re not riding the bus.”

I groan and try to pull free again.

He doesn’t concede. If anything, his grip tightens more, and I wonder briefly if I’ll have bruises tomorrow morning.

“Just let me the fuck go!”

“NO!”

I stumble, blinking up as his six-two frame towers over me. It’s the first time he’s shown any real emotion tonight, and I don’t know how to process it.

“I said no.” He’s speaking quietly now, but his voice is still firm.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do? I was just kidding about the wrench.”

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