Texas Big Man

Harlan’s face slowly slides into a smirk as I watch him. He turns and goes up the stairs, dropping the towel halfway so I get a view of his absolutely perfect, sculpted ass as he disappears behind his bedroom door.

“Yeah,” I say weakly into the phone. “I’m fine. You’re right, I’ll try to make it work. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hang up before I can say something entirely stupid.

Walking to my room, I pause in front of Harlan’s door for a moment, and hear nothing. But knowing he’s in there is enough. It’s almost too much.

Slipping into my room, I try to take a breath. The arousal is too much, I can’t stop it. With my back against the wall, I slide my hand into my panties, my fingers seeking out my clit, finding myself completely wet from just the sight of him.

It’s never been like this for me. Masturbating to the thoughts of someone had always felt strange and wrong. But Harlan…with Harlan it almost feels wrong not to. I’ve seen everything and he’s so, so close. My door isn’t locked. He could open this door, kiss me, and we could fall into each other like it was meant to happen.

The thought of him appearing in the doorway, naked and wet and glorious has me gasping in pleasure in less than a minute. My fingers slide easily over my clit, at a furious pace. Fizzy ecstasy rushes through me and I try to hold in my moans, keep myself upright, but I fail. My knees buckle and I come with a loud moan.

This is impossible. It’s the opposite of what I had planned. I don’t even like Harlan Decker. He is rude and presumptuous and he’s everything that I don’t need. All this is, is a chemical reaction.

But sometimes I can see something different behind the bravado and the teasing. The gentleness and strength. The man that allows me space to learn and helps me face my fears and new challenges. A man that admires my skills and perseverance.

But no. I shake those thoughts from. my head. I’m reading too much into these simple courtesies. I don’t like him. At all. It’s only proximity. And the idea of being alone with him for this long, that’s the problem.

I hope.

6

Harlan

I could hear her. Those breathless moans through the wall as she did to herself what I wanted to do for her—give her pleasure. There wasn’t a time in my life that I’d felt more alive than when I was around Melena, but I’d also never gotten less sleep.

Every night I was tossing and turning, being woken with dreams of us tangled together in increasingly sexy positions until even the brush of my sheets was arousing. I felt like a damn teenager again, and I couldn’t tell if I loved it or hated it.

The tension between us is so thick you can feel it, every encounter weaving another strand on the growing rope. And I’m helping it along.

We haven’t talked about the kiss. I’m not going to push her even if I am going out of my goddamn mind. If she doesn’t want me, I will never cross that line. If she won’t admit that she wants me, I can’t force her. But I remind her of the chemistry that we have every chance that I get. Little touches whenever I brush pass her while we’re working, or if I hand her tools, my fingers brush her wrist, or when I lean around her in the kitchen, I stand a little too close.

The little touches make me ache, but I know that I’m the only one who feels this. After I came in from the shower and I saw her face, and then heard her moaning, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind how I affected her. I just have to figure out what it is that’s holding her back.

I still want her to beg. I crave the rawness that I heard in that quiet orgasm, imagine what it would be like to hear her say my name, coming like that. It’s driving me to distraction, that little fantasy.

Now we’re working on a new section of the fencing, this one requires more construction, and Melena is beside me. Once I told her what was needed, we worked perfectly in tandem for hours. Usually when I work with others I’m aware of their work and what they’re doing, whether they’re making mistakes or working as efficiently as I am.

Melena isn’t making any mistakes.

The image floods my mind again: Melena sinking to her knees and asking for my cock. Opening her perfect mouth and taking me in her mouth, and closing her eyes in pleasure.

Pain spikes through my hand and a curse flies from my mouth and my finger throbs. Jesus. I hit my own damn hand with my hammer, something that I haven’t done since I was on my very first construction job. All because I was imagining Melena begging for my cock.