“Knox?” Her eyes narrow as I undo the knot around her wrists. She stops wriggling, understanding tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re actually going to let me help you?”
Over the years, I’ve lifted dozens of hides off these hooks. Hundreds of them.
Never like this.
Taking her down from the hooks is like coming home.
“Yes. We’re doing it together.” Her weight in my arms isn’t a burden. It’s a gift I’m going to carry with me till the day I die. “I’ll teach you.”
“Really?”
The moment her bare feet hit the floor, Skylar latches onto my waist. My chest swells because of that simple gesture. She needs me that close.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I vow, prying her hands off.
Instead of brushing my lips over her wrists and memorizing her wild pulse, I guide her toward the table and turn her around.
She’s been at my table many times, but seeing her here and knowing we’re about to flesh a hide together is unlike anything I could’ve imagined.
Flames lick at my bones, my entire body. I’m burning up. Hard. Want her.
Fueled by the need to feel more of Skylar, I hug her middle, thrusting her back against my front.
She’s just as hot for this, moaning, pushing her ass back. Her nails dig into my forearm, the pain serving as a goddamn temptation.
She deliberately grinds her ass back, making me throb. I fucking love that Easton’s skin doesn’t interest her as much as my hard cock does.
“Bad girl.”
Deciding to ignore the relentless pulse between my legs, I reach over her to get to the shelves. I grab two sets of gloves and slam them on the table.
“Are you upset?” she whispers.
It sounds for all the world like she wishes I were. That she hopes I’d lose it and lick her like I did at the farmhouse.
I’m too goddamn close to doing that and worse.
Won’t.
“No.”Just dying to fuck you.“Now listen. Here’s how it’s going to go. Fleshing’s simple.” I shove the gloves on her first.
I do it for sanitary reasons, but also—yeah, I’m jealous too. If her skin ever touched Easton’s, I’d fucking lose it.
“I’m listening.”
“You’re taking off what doesn’t belong,” I say, pulling gloves over my hands, then laying out a slab of Easton on the table. “Meat, fat, membrane. Anything that’ll rot, it has to go.”
“Kind of like debriding a wound.”
Skylar lifts her hands toward the hide, then thinks better of it. She stops short, her hands hovering midair.
Curiosity shines in her eyes when she turns her head to me for approval. I don’t say a word, don’t give it to her. Yet.
“But unlike debriding, when you flesh a hide,” she continues, “what you do is…remove the parts that aren’t needed?”
Still waiting for me to give her the go-ahead, she runs her gloved hand over my forearm. A growl rumbles in my chest.
Skylar’s learned exactly which buttons to push to get what she wants from me.
