Текст книги "Wolf Bait"

Автор книги: Nina West

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Chapter Seven

I’m pretty predictable when it comes to sleep. Every night around 3:00 a.m. I’ll wake up, lying on my stomach, hugging my pillow. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember, even when I’m alone in my room, even in dead silence.

Last night was the exception. Tonight, it seems I’m back on schedule. I lie in bed, listening for the shallow breathing of five other women, hoping that’ll lull me back to sleep.

At first, I’m not entirely sure what I’m hearing. I know it’s coming from Katie and Rachel’s bunk, which runs perpendicular to ours. It’s set slightly behind ours, and so close that if both Katie and I stretched arms out, we could touch fingertips.

The curtains on the windows dim the cabin well, but they don’t completely block the lights shining in from outside. The privacy curtain helps with that. Only, Autumn and my curtain isn’t long enough, and there’s a gap near my head.

Tonight, Katie and Rachel haven’t pulled their curtain all the way around, and the light glows over the end of the bottom bunk.

It takes a few blinks for my eyes to adjust to being awake, and to process what I see.

A naked woman is bent over Katie’s pillow.

Her thighs are straddling Katie’s face, and Katie’s short-manicured hands are gripping either side of the woman’s slender hips. And Katie is sliding her tongue along the slit of the woman’s private parts.

I fight the gasp as my mouth drops and my eyes pop wide.

Another voice whispers through a pant, “Oh my God, I’ve missed this. Don’t stop...” and I immediately recognize Rachel, earning my second wave of shock. I knew the two of them were from the same hometown and came here as friends, but I hadn’t expected this! Wasn’t Rachel ogling Mr. Wolf only hours ago?

“Like this?” Katie purrs, reaching around to spread Rachel’s lips with two fingers, until I have a good view of Rachel’s entire core, soft and pink and glistening.

“Yes,” Rachel moans.

Katie shushes her with a giggle, followed by a soft moan of her own. “I’m going to come fast if you keep doing that.”

I know I should close my eyes and give them their privacy and yet I don’t move, because part of me is curious. So I lie dead still and watch them pleasure each other, wondering what it would feel like to have someone’s tongue on me like that.

Is anyone else awake? They wouldn’t be able to see this, not like I can. Well, maybe Autumn, but I hear her soft snore above us.

I purse my lips together and watch as Katie alternates between sticking her tongue into Rachel’s opening and sucking on her clit, which Rachel seems to enjoy because she angles her pelvis to give Katie more.

“Give me that ass,” Katie whispers and my mouth drops open again as Rachel adjusts her body, rolling her hips until her backside dips down within reach. Katie swipes at the tight puckered part with her tongue, long and slow, then twirls the tip of her tongue around the hole. I clench my own ass every time she does that, shock flowing through me.

“Here. Use my plug.” A hand with a clear, beaded pointy object about three inches long appears.

Katie giggles as she takes it. “You sure? You have a hard time being quiet when we use this.”

“Please,” Rachel begs, and Katie shushes her.

Katie slides two fingers into Rachel, pumping them in and out several times, until they come out glistening. She smooths them over Rachel’s crack, until the entire area is slick. Rachel’s asshole puckers in anticipation.

“Not yet, you greedy—” Katie’s words drift as she begins panting and wriggling. The curtain shifts, something poking the inside of it. Her knee, I’m guessing. She’s spreading her legs wide.

I should feel guilty or dirty about spying on them, but I don’t. In fact, I can’t help the heaviness in my pelvis, the moisture pooling inside my panties, the urge to spread my own legs.

I’m aroused.

Oh my God. Does this mean I’m a lesbian?

Katie’s mouth moves back to Rachel’s clit and she begins probing her asshole with her moistened thumb, twisting and turning until she passes the first knuckle. Leaving it there, she slides the thing Rachel called a plug into Rachel’s pussy, pumping it in and out a few times, until it’s slick.

She pulls her thumb out and, lining up the tip of the plug, she whispers, “Relax,” and then slowly pushes it in, until each ring disappears and there’s nothing left but the circular end. Rachel’s muscles tense around it.

Mine tense with her.

Why would someone do that? Does it actually feel good?

The toy seems to propel them to another level. Katie’s fingers find their way into Rachel once again, only she doesn’t stop at two, inserting all four into her cavity. She pumps her hand in and out while her tongue works on Rachel’s sensitive nub, until long threads of cum drip from Rachel’s opening and the pungent smell of her arousal reaches my nostrils.

A phone suddenly appears. Katie pushes a few buttons and the screen lights up, and anything hidden from my view is now lit for me, right down to the goose bumps on Rachel’s slick flesh.

She’s selfie-videotaping this.

Oh my God.

Katie pauses to pant a few times. “Deeper,” she whispers, and my thighs squeeze in response to whatever Rachel may be doing on the other end.

And then Katie wraps her free hand around Rachel’s thigh and presses her face into Rachel’s mound to muffle her cries of ecstasy. At the same time, I hear Rachel’s stifled cry and then her body begins to quiver.

A few moments of silence pass before Katie’s head settles back on her pillow. With the camera still on and held close, she grasps the end of the plug and slowly pulls it out to the sound of Rachel’s sigh. With that done, she shuts the camera off, and Rachel’s lithe body begins to climb backward, over the end of the bed, off Katie.

I close my eyes, afraid of getting caught and painted the peeping Tom.

“I needed that,” Rachel whispers, followed by a soft, “Good night.” I sense movement right beside my head and then the ladder creaks.

Soon, all is quiet again.

Except now I’m wide awake and mildly traumatized by the private sexual act I watched. Of all people to witness it... Would they be angry with me if they knew I had watched? Embarrassed? I’m guessing not, if they’d risk doing it in the first place. That eases my guilt a bit.

I’m afraid to move yet, so I stay still, replaying what I saw in my head. I guess it’s the same thing that a guy would do to a woman. I can’t imagine having a man’s face down there like that.

A man like Henry Wolf, with that strong, square jaw grazing against the soft skin of my inner thigh. Try as I might, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head all day. Would he even do something like that? Or would he find it unappealing? Would I ever be confident enough to allow it? Jed said the idea of putting his mouth on any holes involved in defecating didn’t appeal to him. I’m betting that has changed.

It’s now 4:00 a.m. Soft, shallow breaths surround me, and I have a terrible throb between my legs that isn’t going away. As quietly as I can, I roll onto my back and slide my fingertips beneath the drawstring of my pants, hesitant to do this in a room with five other women, even if they’re all asleep. Sure, the curtain and my blankets hide it, but still...

I gingerly draw my index finger through my slit. It comes out slick. I bite my lip. And do it again. And again. And then I begin to flick my clit like I watched Katie do with her tongue, and it makes me wetter.

I haven’t done this in months, since before I caught Jed cheating on me. I haven’t had the urge, too heartbroken.

The more aroused I get, the braver I become, until I’m no longer so worried about getting caught. In fact, the idea of Katie or Rachel watching me do this spurs me on because I think they’d like it. I push my pajama pants down and spread my legs farther. I’m still under my blanket as I do this, and I’m being quiet. No one will know.

Should I even care? Autumn brought a dildo with her, and I just watched my two roommates eat each other out and stick a plug up their ass only three feet away!

I close my eyes and slowly, gently, back and forth, rub the sensitive nub of flesh, reveling in how soft it is. How good this feels. Like my body has been begging me to do it for years.

I struggle to keep quiet as my heart rate begins to race. I close my eyes and imagine it’s not my hand doing this. It’s Henry Wolf’s hand. His big, strong, manicured hands would probably know how to do it well.

Or his tongue.

The slow build that’s been growing in my pelvis now rushes, pushing my legs farther apart, until my covers have fallen away and the cool air touches my bare skin, and I don’t even care that I’m exposed within my little cubbyhole.

I close my eyes and imagine myself like Rachel was, bent over Mr. Wolf’s face while his tongue and his fingers plunge into me. A rush hits me and I have to press my lips together to keep from crying out as my muscles pulse beneath my fingertips.

Not until it’s over do I fully comprehend what just happened.

I brought myself to orgasm thinking of my boss.

Chapter Eight

I check my watch for the third time. He said 7:00 a.m.

So where is everyone?

I rushed past that guy, Connor, and the rest of the Outdoor crew in the staff lounge, a croissant hanging out of my mouth and a steaming cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get here on time, their forest-green all-weather jackets hanging off chairs. I don’t have a suitable jacket besides my winter coat, so I wore several layers plus my vest and hiking boots. I wonder if that’ll be good enough. If not, someone’s going to have to equip me.

If someone shows up. Is this the right gate? It looks like the main gate, with iron rungs and a security booth made of stone and timber on the right. Kind of silly, given I heard there’s nowhere to go. The only way into Wolf Cove is by plane or boat. We’re surrounded by a mountain range and water, and ahead of us is the Kenai Fjords National Park.

I’m about to ask the guard when a low rumble cuts in to the remote peace. It’s coming from a black pickup truck slowly making its way along the service road, a pathway hidden from the lodge’s view by a thick cedar hedge.

I step aside to allow the truck past. It stops next to me instead.

“Get in.”

His deep, commanding voice—so early in the morning, so unexpected—makes me jump.

I can’t seem to form words. I simply stand and stare at Henry Wolf himself. He’s traded the tailored suit and styled hair for the red-and-black checked wool jacket and a less-tame head of waves that I remember from the other night, when I called him a lumberjack. The sleeves are rolled up to show off impressive forearms, thick and sinewy with muscle. His eyes hide behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, though it’s not nearly sunny enough to need them yet.

“You said you wanted some outdoor work, right?”

I finally find my tongue. “Right.”

“Well then, get in the truck.”

“With you?” I look around me, waiting for someone to jump out from behind a tree and yell, “Psych!”

“Not if you don’t hurry up.” There’s no mistaking the hint of a warning tone in his voice now.

I scurry over to the passenger side and climb in, slamming the heavy door behind me. A mixture of soap and bug spray hits me and I inhale deeply. I never thought bug spray could be so appealing.

He throws the truck into gear, and it lurches as it begins to move, jostling me around. “Sorry. It takes me a few days to get used to this engine again. My cars back home drive a lot more smoothly.”

Cars, plural. Of course. “That’s okay. I’m used to old farm trucks and bumpy roads.” I try not to stare at his profile, but I fail miserably. He’s honestly in a class all his own. His square, chiseled jaw is covered in a shadow of dark stubble, as if he forgot to shave. I’ve always thought a thin layer of stubble was sexy. Jed couldn’t grow it; it’d come in patchy. “Where’s home?” Do I address him as Henry or Mr. Wolf?

The security gate eases open and the guard throws a wave our way.

His large hands curl around the steering wheel as he pulls through. “Manhattan, mainly. Though I have a few places I like to spend time in.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course a guy like this has homes, plural, to go along with his cars, plural.

Henry turns right at the end of the driveway, and onto a single-lane dirt road.

“So,” I decide on the more formal to be safe, “Mr. Wolf, where—”

“Call me Henry.” He turns to regard me with a smirk, his cheek marked by a deep dimple. “I think we’ve passed the formal greeting stage, haven’t we?”

I heave a shaky sigh. “Okay, Henry...” I like the feel of his name on my tongue. “Where are we going?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.” I eye the twelve-gauge shotgun mounted over the rear windows.

He chuckles and the sound vibrates deep inside my chest. “Don’t worry. The safety’s on.”

“I’m not worried. I just wasn’t expecting to see one here.” I come from a family of hunters, so I’m comfortable enough around guns. “Why do we need it?”

“Have you ever seen a grizzly bear up close?”

When I shake my head, he shrugs. “I have. And that’s why we need a gun.”

“I thought they won’t usually attack.” That’s what the orientation video said.

“You’re right. They won’t, if we’re not stupid.” Henry’s eyes scan the brush by the side of the road as we drive, one hand resting on his thick, powerful thigh. The hand I was picturing on me last night, as I was coming. Just the thought makes me squeeze my thighs tightly together now. “But nothing is 100 percent. I like to be prepared for all possibilities.”

“So you’re a boy scout.”

That earns me another tiny, sexy smirk that makes my heart skip a beat. “Something like that.”

We ride in silence over the steep hills in the road. I do my best not to stare at him, but I can’t help glance intermittently, to catch a glimpse of his blue eyes, the color of the morning sky above us. He keeps seeing me do it, too, forcing me to veer my gaze to the road.

Only to wander back moments later.

Finally, he clears his throat, and I’m sure I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“So you decided to shave your beard?” I ask in a rush.

“I have some important people coming tomorrow. I figured it was time. And one of my employees mistook me for a lumberjack.”

I grin sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that. To be fair though, I was really drunk.”

“Yes, you were.”

“And you didn’t introduce yourself to me as my boss.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I wait for an explanation. When it doesn’t come, I go on. “I wish you had. Maybe I wouldn’t have made such a complete ass of myself.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been yourself then.”

“That was not me. That was me drunk for the first time in my life.” I wince, recalling how utterly wretched I felt yesterday. “And the last.”

“Probably a good thing, considering you nearly went swimming. Aside from that, you were entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” I turn to face the window so he doesn’t see my red cheeks, recalling some of the things I said and did. “It didn’t sound like you were amused, given the whole employee-code-of-conduct speech yesterday morning.” I read through it last night. Section five states no romantic relationships between management and their subordinates. It doesn’t specify anything about a drunken subordinate hitting on the hotel owner, but I’ll bet they’re adding that in as we speak.

“I didn’t have a choice. I can’t have my employees stumbling around drunk.”

Or trying to kiss you. “You could have told me who you were, at least.”

He sighs. “Sometimes I need a break from all the Mr. Wolf and the nervousness and people walking on eggshells around me.”

“I crushed every eggshell there was.”

His chuckle fills the truck and my heart swells. I like making him laugh.

It would be easy for me to get lost in the nature around us, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, the forest thick and lush even in early spring, the snowy ridge in the distance. If not for the man accompanying me, I would. But I still can’t seem to keep my eyes off him for long.

“You’re managing without your glasses?” he finally asks.

“Yes. Contacts.” As if reminded that they’re there, I blink repeatedly. I’m not used to wearing them all the time.

“Good. I was afraid you’d be blind.” He glances over at me. “You look different with them off. Your eyes are...”

“Too big for my face?” Kids used to tease me about them growing up, especially the boys. They called me “Bug Eyes” and “Owl.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he asks, “How is everything so far? The food, the accommodations? Do they suit your needs?”

“Everything’s great.”

“Everything can’t be great. Everything’s never great.” His lips purse. “Tell me the truth.”

“Is this Mr. Wolf asking? Or Henry?”

He turns to spear me with a glare.

“The food is great. The cabins are good, if not a little bit crammed.”

“And your roommates?”

“Um. They’re...fine.” Thankfully Katie and Rachel were still asleep this morning when I ducked out.

He frowns. “That doesn’t sound convincing. We’ve never utilized a staff village like this before. I was worried about such close quarters, but my team promised me it would work out, with the way scheduling will be managed. Why? Are you having a problem with someone already?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just...” I hesitate. I shouldn’t be telling him this, should I?

“It’s just...” he pushes. I glance at him, and see the genuine worry etched in his face.

“I think two of them have sort of a thing going on.”

“Oh.” Henry’s brow pops over his sunglasses as realization dawns on him. “And it’s making you uncomfortable?”

“No. Well, not really. Last night, I kind of saw them in bed together.” I can’t believe I’m telling him this. I had no intention of telling anyone. But apparently I don’t have to be drunk to say inappropriate things around this man, after all. “I didn’t mean to, but their bunk is right next to me, and they didn’t pull the curtain around.” I blush with the memory. “One of them crawled into the other one’s bunk.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes trained on the road. “So you saw two of your roommates fucking?”

Just the way he says that, so casually, sends heat through my core. I can’t believe I’m reacting this way to his words alone. I clear my throat. “Yes.”

“And you have a problem with that? Two women?”

“No! Not at all.”

Henry’s mouth opens then closes several times. When he finally speaks, his voice has turned low. “So you watched them?”

Is that an appropriate question for the owner of the hotel to ask me? I look out the window, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t mean to.” Please don’t ask me if I enjoyed it. Now that the moment’s over, I’m embarrassed about what I witnessed last night, and what I did afterward. But I also can’t ignore how alive it made me feel, how in tune with their pleasure my body was. How much I wanted to feel that.

How I came thinking of the man sitting right beside me.

“That must have been a shock for someone like you.”

I frown. “Someone like me?” It takes me a moment to understand what he’s saying.

A virgin. Someone who’s never even had a guy’s hand in my pants. That’s right. I told him that, too.

Henry pulls the truck to a stop near a logging road on my right. “Hold on. It’s going to get a little bit bumpy.” Throwing it into four-wheel drive, he then eases the truck through the deep divots in the muddy ground.

“Whose land is this?” I ask, grabbing on to the door with one hand and wrapping my other arm across my chest, the rough bouncing hurting my breasts.

By Henry’s sideways glance, he notices and slows down a touch. “Mine.”

“Your family’s?”

“No, mine. My grandfather left it all to me.”

So I guess that particular rumor was accurate. As we ease deeper into the woods, I can see the devastation where chainsaws cut into hundreds of years of growth, mowing down mass clearings. “This is so sad.”

“The hemlock and cedar used for the lodge was sourced from in here. Why buy from someone else what I have right in my backyard.”

“Yeah, I guess. You’re going to replant it all, though. Right?”

“Eventually. When I have the staff to do it.”

The wheels in my brain are turning. “I could do it.”

He stops the truck next to a fallen tree and turns the ignition. The deep rumbling stops, leaving us in eerie silence. Peeling his sunglasses off his face, he turns to level me with his beautiful eyes. “You’re going to plant all these trees yourself?”

“I could. It would take me all summer.”

His head tips back with his laughter, and I marvel at the sight of his Adam’s apple, the way it juts out. “You really don’t want to be in Housekeeping, do you?”

My giggle escapes me unbidden. “Like I said, I’m better suited to the outdoors.”

His gaze does a lightning-speed assessment of my body before muttering, “Come on.”

The second I crack the door, a cloud of mosquitos swarms me. It’s like they were waiting for fresh blood. I swat as I walk around to meet him in front of the truck. The bugs are way worse out here. “You’ll need these.” He tosses me a pair of work gloves. “And this. The stuff they gave you isn’t strong enough.” A can of bug spray sails through the air.

I quickly douse myself from head to toe while Henry disappears behind the truck. He emerges with an ax.

“We’re cutting wood?”

“Have you ever swung an ax before?” He strolls over to a massive stump nearby and rests the blade against it.

“No.”

“Then I’m cutting wood. You’re going to stack it in the back of the truck.”

“Really?” The guy’s a billionaire and he’s out here, chopping wood?

“Do you think you can handle that?”

I snort. “I bail hay at harvest. I can handle this.”

Again, another quick scan of my body, only this time his gaze slows over my thighs. I was in such a rush to get out of the cabin this morning, I grabbed a pair of jeans that are a tad too tight for outdoor work.

He gives his head a little shake. “There’s a cooler of water in the cab, if you need one.” He slides a bottle from his pocket and, unscrewing it, brings it to his mouth, his plump lips wrapping around the end.

My thoughts from my drunken night come sailing back into the forefront of my mind.

What would it have felt like to have him kiss me back?

Or to have his tongue working me like I saw Katie do to Rachel. Or more?

Is this well-groomed billionaire in front of me into the kind of kinky stuff that my roommates are clearly into? Is that what everyone’s into, and I’m just that clueless?

I don’t realize I’m staring until he turns to face me. “Is something wrong?”

I feel my cheeks burn bright. “No. I was just...” Imagining the owner—my boss—sticking his tongue in me. There is no good answer here, so I let the words hang and head for the truck to grab a bottle of water. The air is still chilly, but I’m sure once I start moving, I’ll break a sweat.

There’s a small pile of split wood off to the side, so I move for that, cradling a piece. “What’s this for, anyway?”

“What is firewood usually for, Abigail?”

I don’t miss the hint of mocking in his tone. “It’s Abbi. And I figured you’d have firewood delivered.”

“Because I’m wealthy?”

“No, because it’s a big hotel.” And because you’re wealthy.

I watch him bend and heave a large piece of tree trunk onto the stump, wishing he didn’t have that bulky jacket on so I could watch his muscles strain. If the feel of his body wasn’t a drunken illusion on my part, then he’s got plenty of them, and they’re nicely honed.

He grips the ax handle. “We do have logs delivered for wood-burning fireplaces. Today is for me. It’s great exercise, and I like to come out here to clear my head. The quiet is like nothing, anywhere else. Especially when I’m stressed.” With a mighty swing, the blade of his ax cracks the hunk of wood, splitting it in two pieces. The sound ricochets through the valley, sending several birds squawking away.

“You’re stressed right now?”

“I have a hotel that cost me twenty million of my own money opening tomorrow, with plenty of investors’ money tied up and my family’s name behind it. What do you think?”

I try to move past the astronomical dollar figure. “You hide your stress well, then.”

He doesn’t answer. He simply adjusts the pieces of wood. With another powerful swing, he brings the blade down on the wood, splitting it evenly with one swing. He makes it looks so effortless, like it’s nothing to hit the wood the right way. I know for a fact, from watching my father, listening to a string of cuss words from his mouth every time he messed up a split that it’s not.

A thought hits me. “You really are a lumberjack.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I catch the deep dimple settle into his cheek with his smile. I take that as my sign that he wants to work, so I purse my lips together and focus on loading up the truck while Henry chops wood.

Wondering why he brought me here for his “me” day, as he called it.

I’ve helped my dad stack a lot of wood; our old century farmhouse is heated in the winter by a woodstove in the kitchen and a stone fireplace in the living room. It’s a lot of work, and after an hour of mostly silent labor, under a sun that finally offers some real warmth, my body’s coated in a light sweat. I sling my vest and zip-up sweater over the side of the truck, leaving me in a North Gate College long-sleeved shirt.

“You go to a Christian college,” Henry says, setting his ax down. It’s a statement, not a question, like he’s familiar with North Gate.

“Yeah.”

He tosses his gloves onto the stump and then wipes his forehead with his forearm. The hair at his nape is damp and beginning to curl. “What’s that like?”

“I don’t have anything to gauge it against. I guess college, but with the integration of faith. It’s meant to ensure you don’t lose yourself or your core beliefs.”

“And how’s that going for you, now that your ex left you to fuck someone else. Have your beliefs changed?”

Again with that word. A word I’ve always found offensive but now don’t seem to mind coming from his lips. “I’ve definitely begun to question some things.”

“I noticed.” He says it so casually, like this is a normal conversation to have between the two of us.

None of this is normal.

I reach into the cooler and hold out a bottle for him. “Water?”

He eyes it, then me for a long moment, and I can’t even begin to read what’s going on in his mind. Finally he walks toward me to accept it, his steps graceful and confident, his entire aura one of ease and power. His fingertips stall over mine for a few brief seconds. “Thank you.”

I force myself not to stare at his mouth this time by zeroing on the sharp protrusion in his thick throat, and how it bobs with each gulp, and how all the muscles in his throat tense, until he’s emptied the contents.

Good grief. Had I known whose neck I was burrowing my face into, and tasting, I doubt I would have had the guts to do it, drunk or not.

Henry steps into my personal space and I automatically take a step back, until my back is hitting the truck.

A brief smile touches his lips before he tosses the empty bottle into the truck bed, his gaze on the tidy stack I’ve already built. “Looks good.” His gaze drifts down. “How are your arms? Your back?”

“Fine. I could do this all day with you.” The second the sentence replays in my mind, I grimace, my cheeks bursting with heat. “I mean...”

He starts to laugh. “You are different when you’re sober, aren’t you?”

I dip my face to avoid his heavy gaze. “Isn’t everyone?”

His hand nudges my chin, forcing my eyes back up to his. “You don’t need to be so hesitant around me.” His eyes flicker to my mouth before drifting back up.

“Yes, I do. You’re the boss, even if you don’t want to be.” Having him stand so close to me, the smell of his clean sweat filling my nostrils, is making my heart rate accelerate and the tingling between my legs intensify. It’s making me not care that he’s the boss.

“I am the boss and you’re my employee, and I know you won’t try anything like you did the other night again. So relax. Please.”

Finally he backs away. Unfastening his jacket buttons, he peels off his plaid coat and tosses it into the truck. Beneath it he’s wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. One made of that clingy material that’s supposed to absorb your sweat. And it’s clinging. Oh my God, is it ever clinging.

Henry is all muscle. He has a lean, athletic build, full of contours and bulges, right down to the ridges of his abdomen. When he heaves a giant log onto the stump I can see his arm muscles straining beautifully.

Watching him is exhilarating.

“Come here.”

My legs begin to move of their own accord, until I’m standing next to him. I let out a tiny yelp as he grabs me by the hips without warning and pulls me in front of him, my back to his chest. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to teach you how to swing an ax.”

“You assume I want to learn?”

“What do you think the Outdoor team does all day? It’s not all about pulling weeds and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s little grass to cut. That’s where your landscaping expertise lies, doesn’t it?”

My mouth drops open. I don’t dare turn around. “You checked my references?”

“We checked everyone’s references.”

I finally glance over my shoulder at him, to find his cool eyes watching me. “Then why would your team hire me?”

“They didn’t. They passed you over.”

I frown, confused. “Well then, why am I here? Was it a mistake?” I knew it! I was hired in error.

He jerks his chin toward the wood, drawing my attention back to it. Bringing his arms around to either side of my body, he lifts the ax in front of us, setting the blade against the stump. “Because I hired you.”

An odd nervousness courses through my limbs. “I don’t understand.”

“Take the handle,” he instructs, not elaborating.

I do, and he adjusts my gloved hands to have one on the end and one a few inches below. “Don’t ever cut wood with nails or curvy pieces. You’re just asking to get hurt. And skip the ones with knots in them until they dry out, unless there’s a good line away from the knot where you can split the wood.”

I’m still focused on the part about him hiring me. “Did you watch the interview videos?”

“I skimmed them.”

“Did you see mine?”

The heat radiating off his body so close behind me is warming my back, and yet his breath, skating across my neck, is sending shivers through me.