Page 26 of Beautiful Desire
“What are you working on?” he asks after quietly observing me for a minute.
“Printing labels to place on the candles,” I murmur, still avoiding looking over at him.
Sauntering over to the table I’m standing in front of, he takes me by surprise when he asks, “Want some help?”
I lift my gaze, finally looking at him and immediately wishing I hadn’t. My mouth dries and my heart races as I take in the sight before me. He’s wearing an army green crop top muscle tee and tight, black short shorts, with his bulging, chiseled muscles on full display. If I had to guess, he probably hit the gym after he left work earlier this afternoon. Tousled dark brown strands, still wet from the shower, hang over his forehead, and when he flashes me a boyish grin, I notice the mustache above his lip looks cleaned up, like maybe he trimmed it before his shower.
Heat spreads low in my belly, vividly remembering the way his facial hair tickled my pussy in the very best way. I hate it.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “No, thanks. I got it.”
“You sure?” Brow cocked, he scans the table. “Looks like you’ve got a ton to get through. I don’t mind helping.”
I press my lips together and breathe through my nose for a moment before begrudgingly accepting his offer. Once I show him how to apply the labels to the tins properly, I get back to printing while trying—and failing—to ignore how the air between us is quickly becoming suffocating. Then Charley’s words come back to me:“Quit being such a chickenshit.”
So, keeping my eyes locked on the screen, I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We should probably talk about what happened.”
“Okay, let’s talk then,” he drawls, not missing a beat.
This doesn’t have to be weird,I tell myself as a thin layer of sweat lines the back of my neck.This is just another hookup, so I should treat it like I would any other time.
“Well, what happened wasn’t exactly planned,” I start, annoyed by how quiet my voice comes out. “So, I guess I want to see where your head’s at with it, and make sure you’re okay.”
There’s a beat of silence from Fletcher, and when I look over at him, he’s already watching me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m doing great, Peach,” he rasps, and a shiver rolls down my spine at that nickname falling from his mouth. “Reliving your writhing body underneath me as you came all over my tongue has been superior spank bank material the last couple days, and I cannot fucking wait to do it again.”
My heart catapults against my ribs, and I forget how to breathe for a moment until my brain catches up with the last part. “Uh, no,” I blurt out. “It’s not happening again.Ever.”
Fletcher stares at me with furrowed brows. “Why the fuck not? Don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy yourself.”
Yeah, that’s part of the problem.
“Because it’s not,” I say instead. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and had I not been tipsy from the wine, I never would’ve done that.”
“Don’t fucking do that.” He scoffs.
“Do what?”
“Blame it on alcohol, like a coward. You’re many things, Georgia, but you aren’t a coward.”
Irritation lances through my chest. “Don’t act like you suddenly know me.”
“Sure, I don’t know everything, but Idoknow you want me just as badly as I want you. The only difference is, I’m not scared to admit it.”
“I’m not scared,” I bite out. “One lapse in judgement doesnotmean I want you; it means I was horny, and you were a means to an end to get off. And it won’t be happening again.”
“Bullshit, Georgia.” Fletcher huffs a dry laugh. “If you really just wanted to get off, Charley could’ve done that. I heard the way you made yourself come the other night after getting that picture from me. You may not like me very much, but your body sure as hell does.”
The entire time he’s talking, he’s also still placing labels on the little round tins, taking his time to make sure they go on neatly, and it’s oddly attractive to watch.
Fuck, knock it off, Georgia. Now is not the time to get turned on.
“Honestly, everything you said is irrelevant,” I mutter. “I was horny. You made me come. Of course, it was enjoyable—it was an orgasm—but that doesn’t mean it was specificallyyouthat did it for me, and it definitely doesn’t mean it’s happening again. You’re my stepbrother, and like you said, I don’t fucking like you, so enjoy the taste you got, because you’ll never get another.”
Fletcher shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips, but he doesn’t even bother looking at me as he murmurs, “Whatever you say, Peach.”
The conversation ends there, and after I finish printing what I need, I join him in placing the labels. Somehow, the silence isn’t tense like it was when he first came in here. With music playing softly from my laptop, it’s almost…comfortable, and honestly, I don’t really know what to do with that.
Once we finish with the candles on the table, I walk over to the closet and bring out even more that need to get labeled. Setting the box on the edge of the table, I grab the empty onefrom the floor, handing it to Fletcher. “Can you load all the ones we just did in there, so I can lay these ones out?”
