Page 16 of Roads Behind Us
And then this man was essentially naked in front of me for a hot second.
You are denying yourself right now, Beatrice. Do not look. Don’t look. This is your boss’s brother. Do not look at his abs, and don’t you dare look at his wooly wally!
Shit. I totally looked. How could I not? And of course he was big. And hard. My head cocked to the side just a little as I considered his sizeable girth. Would it fit?
Oh God, but wouldn’t it be fun to try?
He said nothing, but the smirk at the edges of his lips let me know he wasn’t too embarrassed about popping a boner in the middle of his kitchen at five in the morning while his kid was upstairs.
It told me two things: 1.) he was turned on by me, or nervous around me—or he still had morning wood, and 2.) Bax was comfortable with his body and his virility.
And I liked that just fine. He had a great body.
Visions of riding him, of being taken by that big, strong body clouded my mind. A thick vein ran the length of his arm, from the inside of his bicep down to his forearm, like one of those dudes on an airport runway, waving their orange wands to direct large aircraft, or in this case, my eyes, to where they wanted to go. Bax’s large hand flexed into a fist on his knee, and I imagined it wrapped tightly around my hair while he pounded into me from behind.
I’d never understood when women spoke of a “swimmer’s physique.” Sitting around watching guys swim laps on TV every four years wasn’t my thing, but now I totally got why those women loved the Olympics. I didn’t know if Bax swam, but his shoulders were broad and defined, but not with bulk. They’d been sculpted in sleek muscle, and they led down to clavicles made for licking and a chest so goddamn sexy, I was having a hard time not leaning my cheek against it just to feel the dark hair there scruff my skin.
I bit my lip, rolled it under my teeth as I daydreamed about taking his nipple into my mouth and biting it too.
The memory of his “sweet little ass” comment and the sound of Bax’s deep voice cleared the sexy fuzz from my head. “Thought you weren’t gonna look?”
“I didn’t!”
He laughed when my eyes snapped up to his, and he handed me the sweats and clean boxers from the table.
As I unfolded them, I looked only in his eyes. I would not look at his dick again. I couldn’t ’cause if I did, I’d be tempted to lick it like a lollipop. A salty, man-flavored, delicious…
But a moment passed, and I was still looking in his eyes, still holding the clean clothes between my hands. Again, just like on the highway with the bison, I felt like my character was being contemplated.
Bax blinked.
I moaned.
The sound was so soft and quiet that I hoped he hadn’t heard, but he smiled earnestly, and I felt something inside my chest crack and burn a little.
“I’m ready,” he whispered, and finally, he pulled the clean tee over his head.
“Right.” But I’m not.
“Thank you for makin’ breakfast,” Athena said, sitting across her kitchen table from me, right before she shoved a forkful of veggie scrambled eggs into her mouth, “but this is weird.”
Between us, Bax arched an eyebrow. Just like in poker, he couldn’t hide the irritation he felt, relying on my help.
I ignored him. “What’s weird? I mean, I know you guys are probably used to eatin’ breakfast with just the two of you, but I’m sure Brand or that other guy who lives around here eat here sometimes, right? It’s no different than that.”
What a cute kid. Her light brown hair was a carbon copy of her dad’s, down to the thick waving texture, but her mama’s contributions to her DNA showed in the wheat-blond highlights streaking through the hair around her temples and through the knots of her braids. Her smile was genuine, warm and teasing.
“Uncle Rye? Yeah, he eats with us sometimes. Actually, your eggs taste like his. He’s a pretty good cook.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I usually only cook for myself, so I’ll take that compliment.”
Athena took another big bite and washed it down with orange juice.
Suddenly, the kitchen filled with new morning sunlight and unfamiliar voices as the door banged open behind us and two women walked in. Then a big dude, bigger and a little taller than Bax, followed after them.
“What’s this?” the guy said. “I thought it was my turn to cook.”
“You’re late, so Bea made breakfast this mornin’,” Athena told him. “Rye, this is Uncle Brand’s forewoman, Bea.” She nodded over her shoulder and to me, said, “That’s Uncle Rye. He’s not really my uncle, but we adopted him, and the lady in the funny hat is my actual Aunt Abey.”
