Page 11 of Some Like 'Em Burly
A blush starts at the base of her throat. Climbs slowly up towards her cheeks, and still I keep smelling her. Breathing her in like she’s the oxygen I need. “And you got splashed for your trouble.”
“Serves me right.”
“No it doesn’t.” Gwen tilts her head to the side, humming dreamily as I tuck an escaped blonde lock of hair behind her ear, the rest piled on her head in a magnificent mess. “Oh, I love it when you touch me, Rhys Evans.”
“That’s good.” My heart’s pounding so loud that surely she can hear it. Surely. “Because I love touching you. I’ve got work to finish today, but now all I want to do is sit here with you and slip my hands under your clothes.”
“Do it.” Gwen’s gripping the edge of the table, white knuckled. She’s balanced on my thigh, her feet tangling around my calves. “Oh my god, do it.”
My cheeks lift in a rare grin, my face aching from smiling so much in the last twenty four hours. I’m not used to this, damn it.
“I can’t. Later, maybe.”
Gwen’s groan is low and ragged. “You are atease, Rhys Evans.”
Am I? I’ve certainly never acted like this before. I’ve never been playful or lighthearted; I’ve never been so hungry for someone that it’s a physical ache. But in the safe recesses of my brain, I can admit what I won’t say out loud: that I’m not teasing this girl. I just know the sooner we start this, the sooner it will be over.
Pretty young women like Gwen Roberts don’t settle down with big old brutes like me. They just don’t. They might scratch an itch with us, might satisfy their curiosity, but it’s young lads like the Thomas boy who get the girl in the end.
“I need to work in the forge for a few hours. Do you need anything before I go?”
Gwen bites her lip, looking like she might say something… then shakes her head. A stray blonde curl tickles my neck.
“Okay.” Gut twisting, I brush a kiss against her shoulder. I hope she keeps my shirt on today. I want it to smell like her when she’s gone. “You know where to find me. Be good.”
Gwen hops up with a sigh, snatching up her tea then wandering from the room.
But I will not stare after her like a love-struck fool.
I will not pine for her when I was the one to cut our meeting short.
I will not let myself wonder.
I will not let myselfwant.
And I don’t know who I’m fooling. Certainly not myself.
* * *
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
There is relief to be found in a familiar rhythm. In the weight of a well-known tool in my hand. I pound away at my anvil, sparks flying and flames dancing, and the heat is so intense, I keep blinking streams of sweat from my eyes.
Normally I’d take breaks. Pace myself. But I’m coiled too tight today, my muscles edgy and twitching, and if I don’t work off some of this tension I’ll go mad. So instead my mug of tea stands abandoned on the charred workbench, cool and half drunk, and I slam away with the hammer until my shoulder burns and my throat is dry as sand.
Better to wrap this work up soon. Lord knows I’ll be lucky to get paid in this valley at all, and things will only get worse for me here as long as Gwen stays at my forge.
“Fuck.” I grit my teeth, hammering away. I don’t care if this is all I ever get of her: stolen cuddles and mugs of tea. It’s worth it.She’sworth it. They could drive me away across the mountains and still I’d have no regrets.
Will they ease off me once she’s renting a room in the town?
Only if I stay away. And I’m not sure I can do that.
