Page 61 of Precious Hazard

“You,” the deep, irritated voice hisses next to my ear, “are a walking disaster, Tara. A hazard to yourself!”

Gingerly squinting my lids open, I come face-to-face with my fuming husband. He’s cradling me in his arms and glaring down at me. There’s a big red welt on his forehead, right above his brow. Worry for his well-being suddenly floods me.He got hit with that damn rod!But it almost immediately dissipates as his words finally sink in.

A walking disaster.

It’s not as if I haven’t been called names worse than that throughout my various relationships.Dumb. Clueless. Melodramatic. Unhinged. To name just a few. So I’m not sure why Arturo calling me by one more hits me so hard.DeVille.I meant DeVille.

“Well, thank you, darling. I’m glad you hold me in such high regard!” I scramble out of his embrace and get down to search for the fucking drill among the mound of wrecked white drapes. The blasted thing is still vibrating. “Fuck!”

“Tara,” Satan growls.

“Just… leave me alone.”

“You’ll hurt yourself. Let me—” He breaks out into a coughing fit, sounding genuinely awful.

I drop the edge of the drape and narrow my eyes at him. “You should listen to Greta and get yourself checked out.”

“Afraid you’ll end up as a young widow,gattina?” Another bout of coughing overtakes him. He buries his face in the crook of his elbow until he’s able to draw a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

Locating the drill under the piled material, he walks up to inspect my masterpiece. “Were you trying to bust a hole for another window here or something?”

“The drill bit kept hitting… whatever”—I flip my hand at the wall—“and wouldn’t go through.”

“So you tried a dozen times?”

“Actually, it was thirteen.”

DeVille shakes his head. A crooked smile plays on his lips as he moves the step stool out of the way. It takes him mere seconds to drill the hole I’ve been struggling to make for nearly an hour. It takes him even less time to create another over the other marked X.

“There.” He extends his hand. “Anchors?”

“What?”

“The plastic things that get fitted into the holes. They keep the screws in.”

“Oh.” I kneel next to the toolbox Greta gave me and rummage through it. “I didn’t expect you to know how to do this manual, home reno sort of stuff.”

“Why not?”

I raise one of my eyebrows while looking him over. Even with his shirt sleeves rolled up and while holding a drill, he still somehow manages to look sophisticated.

“You just don’t seem like the type,” I say, returning my attention to finding what I need in the toolbox. Finally, I spot the orange plastic thingies and grab a couple. “Here.”

DeVille stretches his hand toward me, but instead of taking my offering, his arm snakes around my waist, and he pulls me to him. My chest collides with his, knocking the air from my lungs.

“And what type do I seem like, Tara?” he asks, leaning in.

“An overly arrogant one. One who’d never stoop to hands-on, hard work.”

“Mmm. I can assure you that I enjoyhardwork, and I’ve never shied away from anything that requireshands-oneffort. I’m also very adept at a variety of techniques. Especially the carnal kind.”

There’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he delivers his claim. Is he insinuating…?

OMG, he is!

A shudder works its way through my body, and a deep, throbbing need settles in my core. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to dispel mental images of Arturo putting hishands-on effortsto use. Specifically, his fingers on my pussy. My clit pulses with anticipation, and I can’t help it… A sigh escapes me.

His molten gaze instantly falls on my lips. Without thinking about what I’m doing, I find myself leaning closer. Closer to that sensual mouth of his. Magnetically drawn nearer, as if his eyes have the power to summon me. I suck in a breath, inhaling his scent. Exhilarating. Alluring. Addictive. His lower lip ghosts over the edge of mine, and every one of my rational thoughts flies straight out of the window.

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