Page 16 of Forever Never
“Now you’re just being silly.”
He was never silly. Rarely ever even funny.
“So is that a yes?” she asked. “You’ll rent me the space?” She made a show of pressing her palms together under her chin as if she were begging him.
“Yeah. You can use it,” he said wearily.
Some of the tension left her shoulders. “Thank you, Brick. Once again, you’re there with exactly what I need.”
He decided the best reply was a non-committal grunt.
“Oh. One other thing,” she said. “I paint naked. I hope that’s not a problem.”
He turned away from her so swiftly he jostled the table behind him, sending a tackle box to the floor. On an indignant yowl, Magnus sprinted toward the door.Fuck.There was no amount of fish bait he could think about to relieve the swelling in his cock. Short of untucking his uniform shirt, there would be no hiding it from her.
“Geez. Tough crowd. I’m kidding, big guy. I’m not going to prance around your house naked,” she said behind him.
For fuck’s sake. Stop saying naked!
“I’ll get you a key,” he said as he focused all his attention on bending over to pick up the tackle box without cutting off circulation to his stupid, throbbing erection.
“Need a hand?” she asked.
Hand. Mouth. Hot, wet pussy. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Nope. I got it,” he rasped. He stood, holding the box in front of his crotch.
“So I guess the only thing left to do…”
His mind went wild for a moment, fantasizing about folding her over the table and dragging those leggings down her thighs. He imagined what it would be like to see his handprint pink on one of those ivory globes.
She was looking at him expectantly as if she’d said something that required his response.
“Sorry. What?”
“The only thing left is to agree on the rent.”
“Rent,” he repeated. Looking at her was only making him harder.
“Yeah. You know how rent works, right? You give me space? I give you money?” Her smile, though small, was a little warmer.
He shook his head, aiming some of his annoyance at her. “I’m not taking your money.”
“Don’t be so old-fashioned. Name a price.”
“I mean it,” he said sternly. He set the tackle box down and tried to pretend that a hard-on wasn’t hell-bent on tunneling its way out of his pants.
“Now you’re just being—”
Ofcourseshe looked down. Those green eyes locked onto his zipper and her pink lips parted in a sexy little O.
“Now I’m just being what?” he prompted.
“Just being…grouchy?” She was still staring. And he was starting to like it.
“You’re asking me if I’m being grouchy?”
“What?” She gave a little head shake and dragged her gaze away from his pants. “I mean. Food. Cooking. Well, baking. I’m pretty good at baking things.”
