Page 110 of The Lies I've Told
My heart picked up a bit of speed as her arm pulled back a little, probably more than necessary and—oh God, were her eyes closed?
The familiar sound of metal hitting stone sounded through the air.
“Did I do it?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
I stepped back toward the granite and grinned. “Well, you made a dent.”
“What?” she groaned, her eyes jerking back open to see the tiny mark she’d made. “But I hit it so hard!”
“There’s that crunchy attitude again. You have absolutely no patience. Do you think I learned how to do this in a day?”
“Well, why don’t you show me how it’s done, master sculptor?” Her voice purred.
“Haven’t you seen me hit a hammer dozens of times now from your perch by the window there?”
She gave a coy smile, her fingers running down the length of my shoulder. “Yes, but it’s so much better up close. But lose the shirt first.”
Her words made me feel cocky and delirious. I’d show off for her any day. My mind had already jumped ahead several steps, plotting out how I’d pound out a couple of strokes of the hammer as she watched, and then I’d toss the tools on the grass and throw her over my shoulder, so we could pound it out in a completely diferent way indoors.
Reaching up over my head, I pulled the T-shirt over my head, dirty and stained from my work throughout the day. Knowing she was watching my every move only propelled me forward.
God, this woman made me feel wild.
Desperate.
Complete.
“I will never get sick of looking at all that,” she said, the moment my shirt hit the ground.
“Yeah?”
A satisfied smile spread across her face as she took me in, her gaze traveling along the hard lines of my body, earned from years of hard work. “Yeah,” she agreed.
She handed over my hammer and chisel, looking eager and wicked all at the same time. I willingly took them and stepped up to the same spot in the granite she’d attempted, smiling when I felt the small dent she’d made. It really did take quite a large amount of force to break through granite. I should have started her off with something softer, like soapstone or alabaster.
Lining up my chisel, I held back my hammer and then let it fly. The crack was loud and caused Millie to jump.
“Okay, I didn’t hit it quite that hard.” She laughed. “Wow, you’re strong.”
I gave her a quick grin. “Well, I didn’t get these arms from going to the gym.”
“No, definitely not. Do it again.”
“I feel like I’m your cheap entertainment for the evening. Do you need to go make popcorn? Maybe pour a glass of wine before I begin again?” I asked, leaning against the stone as she took her fill of me.
“Mmm, just a few more. And then we’ll go in, promise.”
That image of me throwing her over my shoulder came to mind once more. “Deal.”
With sex on the brain, I lined up my chisel once more and pulled back my hammer, making sure to double-check as I went. Another crack.
Millie was just as pleased as the first time.
So, I did another one and another. With every swing of my hammer, my thoughts grew more focused on her and less on what I was doing.
Once again, I lined up my chisel and swung.
But this time, I missed.
