Page 9 of Haden

Gah. I sound like the inside of a romance novel. There’s nothing sexier than a man’s forearms? What the hell? That’s possibly the dumbest thought I’ve ever had. I’ve never paid a bit of attention to any man’s arms, except Haden’s. I paid a lot of attention to his today.

And his hands. The man works hard. I bet his fingers are rough and would feel amazing against my bare skin.

As soon as I’m in my room, I shut and lock the door. I have plenty of time before dinner. I should use it to clean my room and bathroom. Doing laundry. Making my bed properly instead of just pulling the comforter up over the tangled sheets.

Instead, I strip off all my clothes, grab my favorite vibrator from my nightstand, and crawl under the comforter. I’m already panting as I spread my legs, set the blunt end of the toy against my clit, and turn it on.

It takes me about three minutes to orgasm. That’s how much sexual tension I’ve been carrying around for half the day.

Chapter 4

Haden

* * *

I’m in Tiago’s RV, unpacking my suitcase, when there’s a knock at the door. It’s getting late, so I’m kind of surprised.

Somehow, I managed to survive dinner without making a fool out of myself. It was difficult. This job is going to be a daily challenge if Emilia keeps hanging around me. I can’t focus properly when she’s in my space. It’s embarrassing how distracting she is.

I let that little jitterbug lead me around the mansion for the entire afternoon for no other reason than wanting to be near her. I put on a good show of inspecting ridiculous details in dozens of rooms.

None of that was necessary. I already know where I need to start. The most emergent aspects of the mansion were apparent in minutes—ensuring the electrical grid is not dangerous and getting those fucking windows to open. If there were ever a fire, everyone would be trapped in their rooms.

And yes. Now I understand why nearly every one of them calls it a monstrosity. There’s no better word. If it weren’t a historic landmark and owned by the Wilde heirs, I would suggest it be torn down. It’s going to cost more to renovate the place than it’s worth.

The problem is that it doesn’t need to have financial value. It’s their family home. Perhaps a few months ago, most of the heirs would have agreed with me and let it be plowed under, but Ryder and Tiago have been here three months. They’re invested. The house has grown on them. I wouldn’t dare suggest it be destroyed.

Apparently, money is no object, nor is time, so I’ll do everything I can to turn it into a masterpiece.

To be honest, I’m nearly giddy at the idea. Renovating the Wilde mansion will be the most important job of my entire life. If I ever finish it, I’ll have the finest resumé in the country. But even after one afternoon, I can already tell that the inhabitants are correct. That place has already sucked me in and doesn’t want to let me go.

So has the sexy jitterbug who doesn’t seem to have any real conviction about heading back to college anytime soon.

Another knock at the door jars me from my musings. I rush over and answer it, expecting it to be Brody checking on me.

It’s not Brody, though. It’s Emilia.

Damn. She takes my breath away. She’s standing on the ground a few feet below the door. It’s still hotter than hell outside, but a slight breeze catches her hair and blows it around behind her. It picks up her skirt, too, causing her to grab it with her hands and smooth it down.

“Hi,” she says in her soft voice. “I just thought it would be polite to see if you need anything.”

It’s the worst idea in the history of ideas, but nevertheless, I step back and hold the flimsy door open. “Come in.”

The RV is small. Tiago explained that he’d been using it as a bachelor pad for a few years, traveling around the country to sell his art in different studios. It wasn’t really meant to be a place to live indefinitely, but for the foreseeable future, it’s my home.

Yes, I could choose a room in the mansion. Everyone has made that super clear. Anytime I want to, I’m welcome to move inside. But it’s quiet out here, and from what I’ve heard, there is a lot of sex happening in that house. I think I’d want to run for the hills if I overheard people moaning.

The bubbly ray of sunshine bounces into my haven, a smile on her face. She’s fidgeting, though, wringing her hands together in front of her as she looks around. “It’s so small.”

I shrug as I shut the door. “I don’t need much. It’s just a place to sleep. The mattress is decent. It has a bathroom with a shower. To be honest, it’s newer than any room in that giant house.”

She giggles. “I guess that’s true.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “So, you’re all set? You don’t need anything?”

“I’m all set.” I watch her as she looks around. She didn’t need to come out here. I wondered if she was flirting with me all day. Now I’m certain of it, and I need to nip this in the bud.

There are things about me that Emilia does not know. Even though I’d love to grab her around the waist, toss her onto my bed, and ravage her, I would never do that. She’s so innocent and pure. And fucking young. Twenty-two. Far too fucking young for an old guy like me.

Okay, age might not be the most important factor at play. But experience is. I bet she has limited experience with sex. Probably none. The list of people she’s been with is undoubtedly short and only includes boys. Men who were her age or younger. Dudes that young don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing in bed, which means Emilia isn’t ready for the likes of me.