Page 40 of Pain in the Axe
When he returned, I was curled up on the couch, enjoying the soft leather and contemplating just how sore I’d be in the morning.
I was drowsy and dick drunk and not in my right mind. That had to be why, when he sat down next to me, yanked me into his lap, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me, I didn’t stop him.
A conversation would have to be had. We worked together. Hell, I was this man’s boss. But damn, did his lips feel good.
He kissed me gently, reverently this time, and I melted into him.
Instantly, he was hardening beneath me.
“Impressive,” I said, grinding against his length and tilting my head back to feel the tickle of his beard on my neck. “For an old man, you have excellent stamina.”
Abruptly, he pulled back and stood with me still in his arms. “Old man?” Then he was off, striding back to the bedroom. “I’ll show you what this old man can do.”
Chapter 11
Chloe
Iwas hot. Sweating really. Too uncomfortable to sleep any longer.
I opened my eyes and studied the exquisite beam stretching overhead and the large windows letting in the blinding morning sunlight.
Squinting, I continued my exploration and quickly realized why I was sweating.
Gus.
Naked.
Draped over me like a big lumberjack blanket.
I lifted my head slightly. Yup. He wasn’t the only naked one here.
Eyes closed again, I relished the delicious memories of last night.
Sex.
Hot sex.
Dirty and urgent and hurried.
Yet tender too.
We’d been up for most of the night. I’d insult him, and then he’d make me come. We’d hydrate and repeat the cycle. At onepoint, we were raiding the fridge for more cheese, and I told him his oral technique needed work, so he ate me out on the kitchen counter.
I’d made a huge mistake, getting high on his lumberjack pheromones and abandoning all my good sense.
He’d made me come with his hands, his tongue, and the monster in his pants.
Heat crept up my chest and neck at that last thought. It was bigger than I remembered. And he knew exactly how to use it.
I studied his face. He was more relaxed than I’d seen him since our days together all those years ago. The hard lines were smooth, making him look years younger. His head was on my chest, his mouth inches from my nipple, which was hardening from his proximity alone. The dark lashes, the unkempt hair, and the scraggly beard. It was all so Gus.
And this house.
Jesus, if I hadn’t been attracted to him before, coming here would have been enough to do it. This place was beautiful and thoughtful, and listening to him tell the story of building it over seven years cemented my admiration for him.
His dedication, his focus.
All night, he turned that focus on me.
