Page 20 of All My Heart

If the rumors were correct that the size of his hands predicted the size of his dick, then he'd be huge. With my back pressed to the door, I sank to the floor.

Why had I offered to help him? Why did I think I could be in the same room with him and not spontaneously combust?

His cabin was too small to work together. We were bound to bump into each other. I'd be surrounded by his scent, his warmth, and that defined body I wanted to explore with my tongue.

What was wrong with me? I'd never had such a visceral reaction to a man before. Maybe it was because Axel was so different from any other man I'd ever encountered. He was confident and sure of himself.

I was deprived of oxygen when I was around him. That was the problem. The lack of oxygen.

It had nothing to do with his body, his gruff voice, or his masculine scent. I was a victim of disappointing sex, and I had a feeling Axel could deliver on any one of my sexual fantasies. I let my head think against the wood plank.

I was imagining him sitting on the eyesore of a couch while I straddled his hips. He was so big, the position would strain my inner thighs, but it would feel so good. His large hands would grip my hips as he helped me rise up and slide down his length.

He'd fill me up.

I jumped to my feet with a groan. Thinking about Axel was bad for my health. He was a distraction I didn't need. I was here to clear my mind, not to fill it with sexual fantasies of me riding him like a horse.

I was wet from the visual.

I paced the living room in front of the windows. He wasn't on the porch anymore. Was he inside? Was he tearing apart another part of his house?

I wanted to be there by his side. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be the one to get him to smile, maybe even laugh.

But I wasn't the woman for him. He was here trying to escape from something. He had bigger issues than I had. Neither of us had any business lusting after the other.

I needed a cold shower. Then I'd bury myself in work. I couldn't let my brothers think I'd slacked on my side of the business while I was away. I'd never convince them that I could do the construction or design work if I wasn't doing what I was already tasked to do.

I jumped in the shower, turning the knob as cold as I could stand it. There'd be no more fantasies of what it would be like if Axel were in this shower with me. Whether he'd press my back against the wall and lift me so that he drove into me, or whether he'd bend me over, and place my palms against the tiles, entering me from behind.

The thrum of desire hadn't dissipated with the cold water, and the main issue was I couldn't stop thinking about Axel.

Disgusted with myself, I shampooed, then rinsed out the suds, refusing to think about Axel's hands palming my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples. My back resting against his rock-hard chest.

There wasn't any doubt. I couldn't work for him. I couldn't spend every day in his presence. I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation.

Was it that I was so starved for good sex? Or was it him?

I needed to get dressed. If I was naked, I couldn't get his hot gaze, the desire in his eyes, out of my mind.

I turned off the shower without using conditioner. I'd use the leave-in stuff. The less time I spent in the shower, the bath, or the hot tub, for that matter, the safer I'd be. I just couldn't think about Axel, or sex, or what his naked body looked like.

I let out a disgusted groan. I couldn't believe I'd been here for one day, and I was already lusting after a new guy. Hadn't I learned anything from my time with Rex? I was expendable.

I wasn't worth whatever effort it would take for a guy to convince my brothers he was in it for the right reasons.

After my shower, I used leave-in conditioner, then brushed out the tangles. I got dressed and let my hair air-dry.

I sat at the desk with my laptop. The desk was placed in front of the window that faced Axel's cabin.

Every time he lugged a pile of debris from the wall he'd torn down from the yard to his truck, I was distracted. I watched his muscles bulge and his thighs threaten the sturdiness of the seams of his pants.

This was ridiculous. If my brother asked why I wasn't doing any work, I couldn't exactly say it was because I was watching my hot neighbor. They'd never take me seriously again.

They already thought my desire to be involved in the construction side was a whim.

Even when I was a little girl, my dad had gotten me a hard hat and a tool belt. I'd followed him all around the site. I hadn't realized until later that he'd only invited me when work wasn't going on. It was too dangerous. I'd been happy to be by his side.

At what point had he discouraged me from entering the construction sites? Was it him or my brothers? When was I pushed toward the office with my mother?

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