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Still, my heart’s doing a strange stutter thing and my breathing’s shallow.
Pull yourself together, Trix. He’s not interested. And neither are you.
Definitely not interested.
Colt marks the distance on the floor, then heads back to my corner.
“You want me to text the measurements to you? The tile people can figure out how much you’ll need at the shop.”
“Huh?”
“Earth to Trix—” He waves his hand in front of my face. “The measurements. I’ll text you the numbers and you can give them to the designer, have them plug the exact measurements into their computer to calculate how much tile you’re gonna need.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, good idea.” Colt reaches for my hand and my pulse goes into overdrive. Grabbing the measuring tape from my palm, he pulls away and disappointment washes over me.
Which is strange, considering I’m zero percent interested in Colt.
“You retiling the bathroom?” He tips his head toward the restroom.
“Oh, yes. Yes, I am.”
“Should probably measure that too then, while we’re at it. You can place the entire tile order at once.”
“Right.” I nod, my cheeks heating. He’s already halfway to the small bathroom and I follow quickly behind him.
Colt flicks the light on and we squeeze into the small room together.
“You have to shut the door.” He points at the old brass knob. “To get an accurate measurement.”
“Oh, sure.” I inch closer to him, our toes touching as I close the door behind me.
“Well this is cozy,” Colt says, his voice low. We’re sandwiched between the wall and the sink, with the toilet to my right. The space is definitely not meant for two people, and I’m practically sitting on the vanity to avoid touching his broad chest. The room is so intimate, so quiet, I’m certain he can hear the deafening hammer of my heart.
I lick my bottom lip, my throat dry as he gazes at me with those clear sea green eyes. He leans closer, stretching his arm behind my back, and we’re chest to chest. His crisp, clean scent winds around me and I resist the urge to nuzzle against his neck and take a deep inhale.
“Here, hold this.”
I take the tape from him and concentrate on pressing the metal edge to the wall as he scoots away and marks down the number, this time turning his back to me and writing it on the wall. I try not to notice how the T-shirt clings to his muscles, the way his biceps strain the fabric, barely able to contain his sinewy arms.
He spins around, taking one step forward, and the measuring tape slips from between my fingers.
“Ouch! Dammit.” Colt shakes his hand in the air, his index finger red from the metal edge of the tape popping back on him.
“Ohmygosh, sorry!” I reach for his hand, gently rubbing the inflamed skin. Reflexively, I bring his finger up to my mouth, press my lips to the bright red mark.
He freezes. Gone are the frantic movements of a few moments ago as we lock eyes over his injured hand. Heat flames my face as I realize I’mkissing his finger.
Colt Wild’s finger is resting against my lips, up against my teeth, and now I cannot breathe. Cannot think.
Can barely even function as we stare at each other.
CHAPTER 12
COLT
What the fuck?My finger’s up against Trixie Lovell’s mouth. That did the trick too because the pain from the metal snapping my hand is gone, all blood flow rushing straight to my dick.
No red-blooded male could resist her right now. Those warm, plump lips pressed to my skin, her breathing shaky as we stare at each other.
