Page 35 of The Opposite of Romance
“Figured I could get some hours in today, since I need to be at another job site on Monday. I don’t want to fall behind on your deadline.” His hand scratches the back of his neck.
“Oh.” Another wave of embarrassment hits me, for a different reason this time. “That was … nice of you.” I swallow. The man came here on a weekend to make sure I have my deck on time, called me in advance, probably got traumatized by what he saw, and now I’m yelling at him.
“I’m sorry, really. I know you said to come whenever, but I still should have waited for you to answer the phone.”
I did say that. “No, it’s ok.”
“Still, I’m sorry.” He shrugs, shooting me a small smile, and it’s impossible to stay mad when he looks this good. “I should go.”
“No!” I take his wrist, and a pang of electricity buzzes through me. “You’re already here. You should stay. If it’s not too unpleasant for you, of course.” My eyes drop, and he quickly covers his crotch with a hand.
“No, I’ll be fine. Sorry, again.” He turns around, flustered.
Did he just cover a hard-on? No, that can’t be it.
Instead of doing stuff around the house, I spend the day creeping on him while he works, from where he hopefully can’t see me, replaying the scene from this morning.
It was mortifying, of course, but if I’m being honest, he didn’t look traumatized. He looked … interested? Maybe even turned on? He froze in place as he watched me. His nostrils flared. And by his whole demeanor outside, it’s fully possible he was hiding a hard-on.
I’m used to his playful flirting, but that’s who he is, right? It’s not that he’s actually into me. That would be insane. He’s young, and hot, and capable. And I’m a boring divorced mom.
Still, as I look at his arm muscles flexing in a tight white tank top, I can’t help feeling unsated by my previous orgasm. Or wanting to redo it. That moment when our eyes met and my shameless fingers continued rubbing my clit, making my climax impossibly long?Fuck.
I need a repeat of that. Only this time, I’ll be smart enough to be sure he won’t be coming back.
He knocks on the patio doors a few hours later. “I wanted to let you know I’m heading out. Sorry again for this.”
“I’m just glad my date last night was a bust, or it would have been doubly awkward.” I make a poor attempt at a joke, but something flashes in his eyes, his jaw tensing.
“Right,” he says, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Better get going.”
“Sure. See you.” I wave to him like a lunatic and audibly groan as soon as I’m sure he’s out of the earshot.
My door safely locked; I get situated on my bed. I dig through my toy stash, finding my favorite one. A pink rabbit vibrator. No headphones this time; it’s obviously a hazard. But there’s no external stimulation needed. The thought of him getting hard watching me masturbate is plenty enough to bring me to the edge and push me over it.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan arrives later on Tuesday,informing me he will work throughout the afternoon. Maybe it’s the fact that I imagined him while I touched myself. Maybe it’s the fact that I conjured up his attraction to me in my head. Or maybe the fact I feel like a creep for doing that, but my cheeks blush even harder than the last time.
After picking the kids up from school, I stay mostly inside, out of his way. A knife hits the chopping board with rhythmic thuds as I cut up the veggies for dinner when I hear Asher getting outside, a wooden sword in his hand.
“Please don’t bother Logan!” I call after him. It’s the least I can do. Give him some peace and quiet.
“Why can Liv bother him, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s been talking to him for like an hour. I’m trying to save him.” He puts both hands on his hips, the sword swinging from his side.
My brows furrowing, I place my knife on the board and wipe my hands on a dishrag before following Ash outside.
My eyes widen as I notice Asher was right. Liv stands next to Logan, at his impromptu working station, each with their own setof safety glasses. He’s explaining something to her, and she listens with rapt attention.
I’m stunned still for a few seconds. When Logan finishes his speech, she gives him a determined nod before picking up a drill. Fully focused, she presses the drill bit into a giant piece of wood and makes a hole in it. As soon as she’s done, she raises the drill as high as she can; her face pulling into a wide smile. My chest constricts, seeing her like this.
I clear my throat, approaching them. “What are you guys doing?”
“I wanted to use the drill, so Logan offered to teach me,” she squeals, beaming with excitement.
