My mind isn't on the spreadsheet in front of me, it's on the woman who is once again bending over the table in the corner. My eyes keep traveling to the curve of her ass.
I can't remember ever being this preoccupied in my life. My wife and I, we had a great marriage for the most part. But it was a young marriage. We had stars in our eyes until we didn't, and I lost her. I loved her with the innocence of a young man, and now I'm attracted to Paisley as a man who has lived on his own for years. In that time, I've come to know exactly what I want, and who I am.
What I feel for Paisley is different than what I felt for my wife, and I'm trying to come to terms with all of it.
The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for me to enter the next calf's birth weight. I've got at least twenty more entries to go to finish up for the county I'm working on. It's boring work on a good day, and today is not a good day for my concentration.
Paisley shifts her weight, leaning further over the table as she reaches to place another piece of that damn puzzle. The movement makes her sweater ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin at her lower back. I force my eyes back to the laptop.
Calf number 247. Birth weight. I have no idea what I just typed.
She straightens up, rolling her shoulders back, and I watch as it pushes her tits out. Her hands go to the small of her back as she arches. The stretch pulls her sweater tight across her breasts, and I grip the laptop harder than necessary.
This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man, not some fucking teenager getting worked up over a woman simply existing in the same room.
But God, the way she exists is about to drive me crazy.
I try to focus on the numbers again. Calf 248, born December second, weight...
Paisley bends over again, this time reaching for something on the floor. Her pants stretch across her ass in a way that makes my mouth go dry. When she comes back up, she's holding a piece of the puzzle.
I'm not getting any work done. That much is clear.
She moves around the table, studying what she's completed from a different angle. Her fingers trace along the surface, and I find myself wondering what those fingers would feel like tracing along my skin instead. The thought sends heat through me, pooling low in my gut.
"Is the lighting okay over there?" I ask, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "I can move the lamp if you need it."
Paisley glances over at me, her expression surprised, like she'd forgotten I was in the room as she was concentrating on the task at hand. "What? Oh, no, it's fine. Thanks though."
She goes back to her work, completely oblivious to the effect she's having on me. That's part of what's driving me crazy. She's not trying to be seductive. She's just living her damn life while I'm over here dying to be inside her.
Maybe she does belong here.
The thought catches me off guard. We've only been snowed in together for a few weeks, and already I'm imagining her living here with me, for life. That should terrify me after giving my heart to my wife, and then losing her in a way I'd never imagined. Instead, it feels fucking perfect. But I do realize how I met Paisley and how it mirrors my previous relationship. I have to be willing to open myself up again, though. I can't let one situation cause me to question the rest of my life. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
Paisley straightens again, this time reaching her arms above her head in a full-body stretch. She rises up on her toes, and I watch the long line of her body extend, the curve of her waist, the way her sweater rides up to show more smooth skin.
When she lowers back down, she catches me staring.
Her eyes meet mine across the room, and I don't look away. I should. I should pretend I've been working. But I don't. Instead I let her see the arousal on my face, in my eyes, and in the way my
"Chase?" She questions, tilting her head to the side as her gaze roams my body.
I set the laptop aside on the couch cushion, careful but deliberate. "Come here."
She hesitates for a second before she's moving toward me, and I get to my feet, meeting her halfway. We collide in the middle of the room, and I'm not sure who moves first, but suddenly my hands are in her hair and her mouth is on mine.
This kiss is hot as fuck. There's no hesitation, no testing the waters. This is need and want and hunger all rolled into one.
My hands slide down from her hair to her waist, finding that strip of exposed skin I'd been fixating on. She gasps against my mouth when my fingers grip her there, and the sound goes straight through me.
"Bedroom?" she breathes against my lips.
I pull back just enough to look at her, at her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils and swollen lips. "That's too fuckin' far."
Her laugh is breathless and surprised, and then I'm walking her backward toward the wall, my mouth never leaving hers. When her back hits the solid wood, she makes a sound that's half gasp, half moan, and I swallow with the ferocity of my kiss.
I pull her sweater over her head, and she helps, raising her arms and arching into me.
