Big Man

That only makes it even hotter.

There’s a long, tense moment as we stand there, breathing the same air, my head tilted back so I can stare up at him fully.

Then Grant pulls away, strides back around to the driver’s side of the truck without waiting for me to climb in and shut the door behind me like usual.

I pull myself into the cabin and try to ignore the way my fingertips quiver; my hands shake as I buckle myself into the seat.

We take the drive back toward the farm in silence. I chew on the inside of my cheek, not sure how to break it. When we finally make the turn up the dirt road toward the farm itself, I take a deep breath and force the words out.

“Thank you,” I say. “For defending me.”

“I’d defend anyone from that asshole,” he replies. “Aaron Smith hasn’t been worth a damn since the second his poor mother was unfortunate enough to squat him out.”

I laugh softly and shake my head. “Still,” I continue. “I… Thanks.”

We drive up the dirt road in bumping silence for a while. I glance back down at my jeans—the same jeans that my ass showed in earlier this morning. The jeans that I traipsed around town in after Grant. No wonder Aaron tried to pull something.

I shake my head. “I should be more careful, probably.”

He glances sideways at me without responding, then guns it a little faster. The house pulls into sight up the road.

“I mean…” I tug at my jeans. “Like, with my outfits and everything. I should be more careful about drawing attention to myself…”

Grant doesn’t answer until we pull into a parking spot next to the cabin. When he puts the truck into park, he turns to cast a long look at me, gaze dropping to my jeans and then back to my face. “You’re right,” he says, reaching to undo his own belt.

I blink. “What…”

“You shouldn’t draw attention to yourself,” he speaks over me, faster, sounding frustrated now. Maybe even angry.

I frown.

“Drawing attention to yourself could cause trouble you never expected. More than you asked for.” His dark eyes catch mine, and there’s something white hot in them now. My belly clenches, even as my pussy responds by going tighter, feeling wet. “Drawing attention to yourself could make it really hard for a man like me to avoid bending your sexy ass over and fucking you right here in the dirt.”

My mouth drops open. It takes a second for me to find my voice. When I do, I have to take a deep breath to keep it from trembling with desire. “You’re… being too forward, Mr. Werther.”

He barks out a laugh at that, so sharp and close that it makes me jump in my seat slightly. “Mr. Werther. I think we’re past that now, Sasha. Or was that not you I caught this afternoon, sneaking around the house stealing peeks at my big dick in the shower?”

My cheeks flare red-hot. Fuck. He saw that?

He grins, as though to answer my internal question. “Tell me, did you like what you saw? You certainly hung around looking for long enough.”

Unbidden, unable to help myself, my gaze drops to his lap again now. There’s a bulge in his jeans, though judging by his size earlier, it’s hard to tell if he’s already hard for me or if that’s just how fucking big he is, even when he’s not hard yet. “I…”

“Or were you nervous?” He raises an eyebrow, studying me. “Scared of the big country man and his huge cock. Huh, Sasha?”

I can’t do this. I can’t stay here or I’m going to say—or do—something I fucking regret. I grab my handle and fling the door open. Throw myself down from the passenger seat and ball up my fists. I try to think of a retort, something to shout. But he’s right. I did sneak around watching him shower. I can’t exactly call him out for being crude now.

Especially not when my pussy is wetter than it’s been in months at hearing him say all that. Hearing him talk about fucking me in the dirt, about how big his cock is…

So I just turn my back and storm up toward the house.

There’s a slam as Grant shuts his own door. “That’s right,” he calls across the yard. “Scared little city girl. Run on home to the big city before you get hurt out here in the real world.”

I growl under my breath as I reach the front door. I fling it open with a crash and stomp inside, furious. I slam it behind me again, hard enough that the frame creaks in protest. I ignore it and stomp right through the house, grabbing the tool bag on the way through. Damn. I left the nails I need to finish the roof back in the truck.