I fanned myself, glad it wasn’t a video call. He didn’t need to see how hot and bothered he got me with just a joke. It had been a joke, right? A few suggestive words in his deep, rumbling voice and I was ready to go.

“Why are you calling me?” I asked.

“I want you to leave town.”

I rolled my eyes. “I will, don’t you worry. But I have to stick around for the town hall on Monday.”

“That’s six whole days away. What are you going to do with yourself until then?”

I proceeded to tell the smartass that I’d been keeping myself plenty busy, thank you very much, getting to know the good people and businesses of the Watson, Vermont area. I’d even hit the local slopes at Mad Mountain over the past weekend. I’d lasted all of 30 minutes.

“There’s a reason the motto is ‘ski it if you dare,’” he agreed.

“Now you tell me.”

“Well, if I’d known you were going to try to ski there I would have helped you out.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He would have gone skiing with me? That sounded suspiciously like a date. I had to tease him again. “By help do you mean push me off a ski lift? Or elbow me off a cliff?”

“If I were smart I’d do that.”

“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not smart.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. You seem to make me pretty dumb.”

A smile played at my lips. I had to be careful around this man. But I also had to ask, “So I make you dumb, do I?”

“Yup.”

“How?”

He paused. I had no idea where he’d take this conversation. He could toss out another insult and bring us back onto comfortable ground. But he didn’t do that.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice husky and deep.

“Oh,” I said softly, playing with my necklace, my stomach turning a big flip.

“I had a good time last night.” Suddenly the space between us seemed to disappear. I almost felt as if he were right there in the room with me.

“Me too.” I closed my eyes. I could see it so clearly, him above me in the abandoned barn, pushing my hands into the floor, working his way down my stomach. The heat and hunger in his eyes, the way he’d feasted on me like he was a starving man. He made me feel like his fantasy, like he’d never been with a sexier woman.

“I didn’t see you around today,” he said.

“Were you looking?”

“Yes.”

Oh my. I bit my thumb. “You can always call me, you know.”

“I believe that’s what I’m doing right now.”

We sat in intimate silence for a moment, just the two of us together at night. “Where are you?” he asked.

“In my condo, sitting on my couch. How about you?”

“In my house, sitting on my couch.”

“The one you built?”

“No, I didn’t build this couch.”

“I meant the cabin.”

“Forgot I told you about that,” he mumbled, sounding slightly shy. How about that? Humility. I hadn’t come across it much in the men I knew.

“When did you build it? How long did it take you?” I asked questions and he told me about it, mostly responding but volunteering some information, too. He said he still worked on it from time to time, adding or repairing, but now he enjoyed being able to focus more on furniture and art.

“Plus helping the elderly,” I

called him out, letting him know Helga had told me about his good deed.

“She ratted me out!” he protested.

“More like tried to set us up,” I confessed.

“Is that right?” His voice dropped a notch lower. I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me and said yes. I wondered what he was wearing. His voice was so damn sexy. Probably one of those cotton shirts that wasn’t trying but still made him look like he should be on a poster for the UFC.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” he said, his voice a husky murmur.

“I thought I would be,” I agreed, swallowing.

“Do you wish you were gone?”

I paused. Instead of answering, I asked what I really wanted to know. “Do you wish I were gone?”

“No,” he answered. “I wish you were here with me.”

Oh yes, I’d like that. Preferably on his lap with my hands around his huge shoulders, kissing him like my life depended on it. But instead, I said, “I’d like to see your cabin.”

“I’d like to show it to you. Maybe later this week.”

“That sounds good.” My voice sounded breathy now. Damn it, he wasn’t even saying anything sexy, but he made me so horny. I could picture getting onto that couch and straddling him. He’d have my shirt off so fast.

“I’ll have you over, Violet,” he spoke with low, coiled heat. “But I have to be honest. I don’t think I can keep my hands off you.”

“No?” I nearly panted.

“No. If you came over here I’d be all over you.”

“You would?” That sounded so good. I hoped I didn’t moan into the phone.

“I’ve been gentle with you so far, Violet. I’ve held back. But if you came over here, I wouldn’t be gentle with you.”

I asked, breathless, “You wouldn’t?”

“I’d be rough.”

A soft moan whispered from my lips. The way he said rough, deep and growling and possessive. I was wearing boxer shorts and the waistband was elastic with such easy access. I couldn’t help it. I slipped my hand down where I was wet and throbbing. This man made me feel all kinds of nasty.

“So you probably shouldn’t come over,” he continued, his own breathing sounding slightly labored.

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
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