Page 15 of Horned to be Wild
“I certainly need the help,” she admitted, “but I don’t want him to think I’m just using him.”
Etta snorted. “Of course you are! You’re using him to fix your house. He gets to feel strong, capable, and needed. You get your house fixed. It’s a win for everyone.”
And it had been. The repairs had gone faster than she expected, and she’d taken the opportunity to get as close to him aspossible, brushing against him every chance she got. But that was as far as she’d gone. Etta’s second suggestion—that she give him time to accept the attraction between them—had been a lot harder to follow. The memory of their kiss still haunted her dreams, but she didn’t want him to run away from her again.
But after three days of casual touches, of watching his powerful muscles flexing beneath that soft fur, of breathing in his scent—earthy, woody, undeniably male—she was nearing her breaking point. And perhaps he was too. She was well aware that he had a seemingly constant erection. It wasn’t exactly easy to hide.
“Hand me that level,” he said, not looking up from the board he was securing.
She brought it to him, deliberately moving closer than necessary and bending over to hand it to him. “This one?”
He glanced up and his eyes widened as he realized how close she was standing. His gaze dropped to her mouth and then to her cleavage, and she watched his pupils dilate. Her own eyes dropped to the bulge in his jeans, the fabric tight across the massive outline of his erection.
“Y-yes,” he stammered as she handed it to him, letting her fingers trail across his palm.
“I thought I’d make pizza for lunch,” she added, not moving away, and he gave a barely audible groan.
Feeding him was another of Etta’s suggestions.
“You know how they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Well, in the case of a monster, it’s the way to his cock.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she laughed.
Etta echoed her laughter, but insisted she was right. “Food is a very primal thing. It’s a way of providing for someone—for showing that you care. And most monsters love to eat. Feed him something delicious and he won’t be able to resist you.”
Etta had been right about his pleasure in her cooking, but feeding him had been just as satisfying for her. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed cooking for someone who appreciated her food. Jeremy was a picky, calorie-conscious eater who had always found something to criticize while Torin clearly enjoyed every bite.
“Pizza would be good,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I’ll get it started.” She squeezed his shoulder as she straightened, and his skin quivered beneath her touch. She forced herself to go inside, although what she really wanted to do was run her hands over every inch of his body.
“Patience, girl,” she muttered to herself as she went to the refrigerator. “Patience.”
The pizza was a success, and he eagerly demolished both of the ones she’d made for him. She could still see the hunger in his eyes after he finished, but she didn’t think it was for food. Time to step up her game.
“I want to do more to help this afternoon,” she announced, kneeling beside him, when he returned to work. “Show me what to do.”
He gave her a doubtful look. “It’s not necessary?—”
“I know, but I want to learn.”
He hesitated, then nodded, shifting to make room for her. What followed became a delicious dance of awareness between them.He showed her how to measure and mark the boards, his large body enveloping hers from behind as he guided her hands. His breath tickled her ear, sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the fall breeze. She deliberately shifted back enough that her ass nestled against the bulge of his erection. A small growl escaped his lips and she hid her smile.
By late afternoon, the porch was finished—solid, sturdy, and safe—and she was a wreck. Her body was on fire from his constant nearness, and her nipples were so tight they ached. She hadn’t considered the fact that she would be ramping up her own arousal as much as his.
He surveyed the finished product with satisfaction, a small smile tugging at his lips, and a wave of satisfaction washed over her despite her aching body. He was so pleased with what he’d accomplished. Maybe she should have felt guilty, but he was so damn sexy when he was happy that she couldn’t regret her methods.
“It’s perfect,” she told him. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, looking ridiculously shy for such a big male. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me.” She touched his arm lightly. “Stay for a glass of wine? To celebrate our excellent carpentry skills?”
He hesitated, and she held her breath. She had no intention of letting him disappear tonight. Not after the way he’d been looking at her all day. She could only pray that he wouldn’t run away again.
At last he nodded and she breathed a silent sigh of relief.
They settled on the newly repaired porch steps with their glasses, shoulders almost touching, and watched as the sun painted the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. Mabel nibbled lazily on one of the overgrown vines still climbing the porch posts, then settled down for a nap.
