Page 122 of One Wild Wish

My life was not this lucky. Surely I had heard him wrong. I shook my head and dug a finger in my ear. “Sorry. I thought it sounded like you said you’re not gay.”

His right hand shot out, gripping my hip, spikes of fire zinging from each point of contact. “I am not gay.”

I was having trouble breathing.

Maybe I’d harnessed some magical powers. Had somehow embodied Criss Angel or Hermione Granger, or that geeky kid from Weird Science (minus the tacky eighties outfits) and had conjured my ideal man with nothing but a pink hammer, orange hardhat, and good intentions.

Blinking was no longer an option. “But I saw you with Emmett. He grabbed your ass.”

“You saw me with my brother . He thinks he’s being funny with the ass grab, but that explains a lot. I also might have to kill him.”

My pulse surged, my veins likely to burst from the rush of blood. “So, just to be clear, you’re not gay.”

Chuckling now, he flexed each finger on my hip, digging in deeper. “I’m not gay, Ainsley. I’ve been trying to figure out why the hell you’d go out with me and pick up another man on our date.”

He wasn’t gay. My gaydar wasn’t broken, and by the sexy smolder aimed my way, I’d say my attraction wasn’t one-sided. His thumb pressed under my hipbone, moving in a tortuous rhythm. Someone called his name, but neither of us flinched. We stared at each other, locked in some sort of carnal staring game. My eyeballs were getting a serious workout.

He stepped so close his belt buckle caught on my T-shirt. “I’m going to fucking ravage you.”

A throb of want pulsed between my thighs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard the sheets will catch fire.”

“I want to taste every inch of you.”

“I want you to come all over me.”

A pained sound tore from the back of his throat, and my body temperature shot to scorching. I was as wet as I’ve ever been, and I had no doubt if I gripped the thickening line in his jeans I’d find his cock was harder than the concrete footings.

“Owen! Need you inside.” Nick’s bellow was a harsh reminder we were at a busy worksite. Not alone. Nowhere we could unleash this woolly mammoth sexual tension.

Still, we didn’t move. We breathed, I think. Once or twice.

Then Owen said, “Lunch.” One gravelly syllable.

He didn’t need to say more. Lunch was in one hour. Although I had an avocado, white bean, and strawberry salad waiting in my car, I’d wager the only thing I’d be eating in fifty-eight minutes was Owen. I was ready to inhale this man.

“Lunch.” My confirming syllable was pure whimper.

His hand dropped from my hip. We turned at the same time. Moved our feet in time, too. Suddenly, everything was in sync. The molecules between us vibrated—dusty particles floating on a cloud of lust.

We stopped at the entrance to the house, and he clutched the doorjamb. The marionette I’d become, I stopped, too. Waiting. Watching. Fascinated I’d soon be free to touch and taste my fill. His fingers turned white from gripping the wood. Or possibly from not gripping me. A dusting of hair spanned between his knuckles. I wanted to drag my nose over that blond fur, pinch the skin between each thick finger, nibble on his wrist bones.

Fifty-seven minutes and counting.

His brown eyes were usually rich with honeyed swirls lighting sections. Like Aazam’s sixty-percent chocolate streaked with salted caramel. The dark brown stunners lasering into me now were nearing seventy-five percent, darker and more sinful.

What would it take to get them to a raw one-hundred percent?

I eyed the bulge striking a sharp angle behind his zipper. “Make sure not to hammer anything important.”

He groaned, and the bulge twitched. We went about our work.

Seventeen minutes later, he eye-fucked me for thirty-eight seconds.

At the twenty-nine minute mark, I sucked a cut on my finger just for him.

Minute forty-one found us brushing horny elbows. I nearly came.

The last five minutes were the worst. My hardhat felt two sizes too small, my breasts two sizes too big. The earth’s atmosphere had lost nine-tenths of its oxygen, and my tool belt weighed as much as the heavy ache between my thighs. Everything felt swollen. My T-shirt and skinny jeans would surely need to be cut off.