The skin bared to me is just as smooth as Taylor’s face, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to trace it with my tongue, tasting the mix of salt and sweat. Would it taste like Dylan’s skin, or does every guy taste differently?
Taylor speaks again, like he’s finally realizing what he’s gotten himself into and is trying to break the spell. “You gotta stop looking at me like that or I’m going to undress you in the back seat of your truck and bounce on your cock so hard I’ll risk damaging your suspension.”
Images of fogged windows enter my mind. Sweaty handprints scraping along the glass, looking for purchase, while I enter his lithe body.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Karen’s fucking phone call for one thing, but is that really enough to push me this far down this particular path?
I still have my hand on Taylor’s waist when Phil comes around the side of the house, aiming for his truck, which is parked behind mine.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He abruptly turns around like he knows he caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. “I was just wondering what the holdup is with the concrete guys,” he adds with his back turned.
Finally,I take a step back, putting some much-needed space between Taylor and me.
“You’re not interrupting anything,” I bark. “Concrete’s not coming today.”
A look of confusion paints Phil’s features as he spins to face us again. “But we triple checked, and I could haveswornI heard the truck pull up.”
Sighing, I opt for the truth. “You did, but the guy was a condescending prick who was making slurs at Taylor, and I fired him. I’m not going to let Taylor’s parents pay some asshole who disrespects their son,” I hastily add, defending my actions.
Phil’s eyes flit back and forth between Taylor and me like he’s trying to read the invisible ink between the lines. “Okay, yeah, makes sense. Want me to see if we can get a rush job placed with Whittier? We’ll have to eat the cost, but it’ll keep us on our timeline,” Phil offers.
It’s a good suggestion. And reasonable, too. I should hand this off to Phil and get my fucking ass out of here for the day.So why the hell do I hear myself decline?And not only decline, but tell him to grab Javier andleave?
“I’ll take care of it. Can you and Javi head over to the Baker’s and start on the piping in the crawl space? We can push that job forward while the pour dries if I can get Whittier here tomorrow.”
Phil shrugs. “Sure, boss. No problem.” He starts to head around the back of the house, probably to grab Javier, when he stops and looks over his shoulder at Taylor and me. “And just so you know…Javi and I…we uh, don’t care if you?—”
“We aren’t,” I confirm immediately.
I can’t bring myself to look at Taylor, but Ifeelhis eyeroll.
Phil holds up his hands. “Hey man, you do you. Javi and I’ll head over to the Baker’s.”
“Not into guys, huh?” Taylor asks in a whisper. When I don’t answer, he continues. “Not that I believe you have to be strictly in one category, but since it’s what you’re advertising, I can’t honestly say a lot of straight men look at me the way you do…or touch me with as much reverence and curiosity as you just did.”
“I’m straight,” I confirm. “But even if I wasn’t, the last fucking thing I need is my employees concerned about who I’mattracted to. We don’t talk about feelings.Idon’t talk about feelings.”
“Well, maybe youshould.Things might make more sense if you stop running from them and take the time to understand them instead,” Taylor argues right as the first drop of rain falls from the gray clouds above us.
His words don’t sit well because they’re eerily similar to a statement I made to Phoenix not too long ago, and I have to admit, I don’t love them when they’re aimed at me.
Before I can respond to Taylor’s insightful words, Phil and Javi come around the front of the house with all the tools that need to be packed up. They put them in Phil’s truck and throw a wave to Taylor and me as they back out of the driveway.
We don’t move.
The rain picks up, and thunder sounds overhead. All I can do is stare. Taylor’s nipples are now visible through his shirt. The small peaks outlined perfectly by the wet material clinging to his skin. The longer hair that tends to cover one eye already has droplets rolling off the ends and falling onto his cheeks.
“We should probably go inside,” he says, not actually moving at all.
I can’t go inside that house. I can’t be alone with him. The tension is too high, my defenses are coming down, and I’m toeing averydangerous line.
“I need to make some calls and set up another concrete delivery, so I should get going.”
Taylor slides his ass to the right, so he’s blocking me from getting into my truck.
I arch a brow at him and wait, knowing he’s gearing up to give me more words of wisdom.
