Oh gods, if I do that, I’ll surely never leave. And I can’t do that. I cannot.
“I think I’ll be okay,” I manage to say as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside.
My blood thrums through me, and I reach between my legs, adjusting my hard length, trying to soothe it, to curb that ache, but it only builds.
And builds.
By the time lunch rolls around, Glenn is in the kitchen fixing me something to eat, and I’m writhing in my chair, trying to be subtle. But my scent is overwhelming even for me. He must smell it, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even open a fucking window. Just continues working as if it doesn’t bother him.
It makes me hornier.
No one has ever liked my scent to this extent.
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“You don’t need to ask, Arbor.”
The way he says my name has me shivering as I push myself upright and toward the bathroom I changed in earlier. When the door is closed, I splash water on my overheated face and wipe myself up again.
It’s ridiculous the amount of slick my body is producing. As if it remembers how good that Heat Hunt was and wants to go again.
Maybe I should. Maybe I should just ask for it, ask him to put me out of my misery.
The thought forms in my head, and it doesn’t disappear. It just blooms during lunch, a delicious spread of mini sandwiches, cheese, and fruit.
Who the fuck is this man? I swear to the gods, he can’t be real.
“You full?” he asks, and I bob my head, wiping my mouth and patting my stomach.
“Extremely. And it was so good, too. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mom. Dad, too. But mostly, I love eating, so I taught myself.”
“It’s fantastic. I had to learn myself, too, but I’m not nearly this good.”
He shrugs, picking up the plate and bringing it to the sink.
“I’m sure you’re fine.”
I don’t know about that. If he heard how I order in most days, it would probably appall him.
“All right, feel free to go back to working. I’m gonna see about putting up some shelves.”
“Do you ever not work?” I ask as I push my glasses back up my nose and blink at him.
“Have a hard time sitting still. I enjoy building stuff.”
“Apparently. Your house is amazing.”
“Thanks.”
He glances over at me, and I blush like a schoolboy with a crush. “What’s your place like? I’ve wondered.”
My skin is ten degrees hotter. What exactly has he imagined? My slick drips down my thighs, and I bite back a small moan,wondering if he’s envisioned himself in my loft, our bodies naked, writhing.
What would he do to me in my space? What would he make me do?
I bite my bottom lip and shift in my seat. I see Glenn’s nostrils flaring, and it makes my breath come out in short sputters.
