Page 10 of Tough Nut to Crack

His grin is quick, a hint of mischievousness filling his pretty green eyes, but instead of grabbing my hand and tugging me toward his expansive front porch, he squats, placing his shoulder into my middle, and throws me over his shoulder.

My lungs seize, air rushing from my lungs.

"Mac!" I scream, slapping at his ass. "Put me down. I'm too heavy for this shit!"

"You're fucking perfect," he says while taking the front steps two at a time, as if he isn't carrying me.

I press my palms against his thighs, lifting my body up some so I can see what's going on, but I only get a quick glimpse of the rocking chairs on his front porch and some sparse Christmas decorations. The man is abachelor and owns a construction company, so the lit-up Santa on the far end of the porch seems a little out of place.

I hear a beep, and in seconds, he's stepping inside. The warm air that swarms around us is a relief to the cool air outside, and it tangles with the heat in my cheeks at him carrying me.

A second after he closes the front door, he slides me down the front of his body, and I swear I feel every damn inch of the man's torso and everything below it before my feet hit the ground.

Awkwardness begins to settle inside of me, so I do the only thing I can think of. I spin and walk a few feet deeper into his home. It's beautiful, and although I've driven by here in years past, I never expected it to be so pretty on the inside. The outside is always kept immaculate, but I guess that's the expectation if people look at his house as to the quality of work they'll get if they hire him.

"This place is beautiful," I whisper, but he grabs my hand before I can step away further.

"Thanks," he says as he gives my arm a little jerk, landing me right back against his chest. "You can take a look around during the intermission."

"Inter—"

His lips are on mine again before I can question him. He's carnal, needy, as if desperate for something he's been missing.

I know better than to think this is anything other than scratching an itch, but I can't help where my mind takes me.

"Let's go," he pants when the kiss breaks.

He slides his hand down my arm until our fingers are tangled, and then he drags me toward the massive stairs leading to the second floor.

I huff a laugh as I nearly lose my footing with the urgency in my steps.

"Slow down, Romeo, I'm a foot shorter than you."

He pauses, turning back toward me, and he has that same glint in his eyes that he had when he threw me over his shoulder.

"Nope," I say, holding my hands up. "I can walk."

The last damn thing we need is toppling backward on the stairs and breaking both our necks.

"In here," he says as he enters his room, not wasting a second before angling toward the en suite.

I don't have but a second to look around his room. The massive bed against the far wall is expected because he's a huge guy, but the plaid comforter and throw pillows seem a little out of place.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask as I step into the bathroom behind him. I’m struck a little stupid by how he just grips his t-shirt at the back of his neck before pulling it over his head.

"What? Seriously? No, I don't have a girlfriend. Why the hell would you even think that?"

He continues to get undressed, his adept hands unbuckling his belt before working on the snap and zipper of his jeans.

"You have throw pillows on your bed. That seems like something a girlfriend would do," I say, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.

"They came with the bedding kit," he mutters. "Are you getting naked?"

My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. I mean, logistically, I knew I was going to come out of some of my clothes, but the way he asks it makes it sound like he fully expected me to strip to my skin right here, in this harsh light.

"What?"

"Naked, Riley," he says as he kicks off his boots before shoving his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one swoop of motion.

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