Page 26 of Some Like 'Em Burly
Oof.
Listen. I know I’m woozy from the heat and dehydration, and yada yada, but you have to believe me when I say that this is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. A girl could clamber all over him without ever having to worry about being too heavy for him. She could plunge her fingers into the thicket of that beard, and scratch his chin, and hear the hairs rasp beneath her fingernails. She could pet his happy trail all the way down the curve of his belly.
I want to be that girl.
More than anything, I want that.
“Clem?” Duke’s leaning down, brow furrowed. “Should I call a doctor?”
“No.” Finally,finally, my brain thunks back into gear. I don’t need a doctor; I need to stop panting over my best friend’s dad like a horny idiot. “Sorry. No, I’m okay.”
The garden wavers in my vision as I peer around, but I’m feeling better by the minute, tucked away in the shade with this glass of water. Another heavenly sip slides down my throat.
“You’re overheated.” The backs of Duke’s knuckles press against the side of my throat, and I lean into his touch without thinking. My pleased hum makes his throat bob, but he doesn’t pull back. Those knuckles move to my cheek, then my forehead. “Are you dizzy?”
Dizzy for him.
Duke frowns at my burst of giggles. “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling someone.” He reaches for his back pocket and I catch his wrist, fighting to keep my face straight.
“No! No, wait. I’m fine, honestly. Sorry. The water and the hose—they’re helping.”
Duke grunts, and I can tell he doesn’t buy it, but he mists me patiently for another minute or two.
The spray is colder now, straight from the pipes. Still not as icy as I’d like, but combined with the summer breeze rustling the foliage, it’s nice and fresh. Just what I need.
Goosebumps prickle over my bare skin, and my nipples prod against my soaked sports bra. Duke blushes above his beard as I sigh, pushing off the wall and turning slowly under his spray. Treating him like my personal shower.
What the hell has come over me? Did I leave my self control out there on the sidewalk, baking in the mid-morning sunshine?
“Better?” he asks, and his voice is pure gravel.
I hum, and it must be the endorphins from the run or something, because I’m bold this morning. “Getting there. Will you do the backs of my legs?”
There’s a long pause, then the scrape of boots against stone. Duke kneels heavily, the spray moving down to the backs of my thighs, and I bite my lip as I stare at the side of the house.
There’s a caterpillar inching its way up the white stone. I focus on that, and try not to imagine Duke’s teeth scraping over my skin. The water mists over the backs of my knees, then down to my throbbing calves.
What does my ass look like from this angle?
Gah. I’m so out of line.
“She shouldn’t work you so hard,” Duke says suddenly, his voice loud after sharing nothing but breaths. “Meg forgets we’re not all athletes. I’ll talk to her.”
I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not like she pushed me. I chose to do an extra lap, and she runs at my pace even though it’s way too slow for her. Honestly, it’s my fault.”
The last thing this situation needs is Meg somehow shouldering the blame. She’s my best friend, and I’m out here coaxing her dad to spray me with the garden hose, wondering what my ass looks like from his eye level. Yikes.
“All done,” I squeak, my throat suddenly tight. My stomach churns, but this queasiness is all guilt, not heat stroke. “Thanks, Duke.”
I turn to face him right as he stands up. He pushes upright, and just keeps going, and going, and going. My neck aches from staring up at him, but I always find it so hard to look away.
I’m like a flower tracking the sunlight. Whenever I look at this man, I don’t even want to blink. And it’s no excuse, but nothing less than this non-stop longing could make me forget myself around my best friend’s dad.
Meg is so important to me.
But for the last three years, Duke’s been my center of gravity. He’s what I orbit around. When I step back, my chest aches. He turns away, and I’m bereft.
The side gate squeaks open and Meg calls out a greeting, but I’m too tongue-tied to respond. Too busy staring at her dad’s back as he goes inside, wishing and praying for one final glance.
