Chapter 5 #2
Angela's gaze darted to me, and her face flushed pink. "Hudson? What are you doing here?"
"I was inspecting the damage from the flood." I gestured at the floor as the color in her cheeks deepened.
"I thought you were inspecting the other businesses this week." Her voice was breathless.
"I need to check on the progress here from time to time." I stood, wondering if I should leave.
Wynter looked from Angela to me with an amused expression on her face.
"I can come back another time, you know, when you're not busy.
" And practically naked. Why did I think I could ignore the temptation?
I should have looked away, but it was impossible.
The red complimented her skin tone, and the cut made her legs look a mile long, and her breasts? They were a treat I wanted to taste.
I had no business thinking about Angela this way, but I couldn't draw a deep breath. It was like all the air had been sucked out of me.
Wynter gestured for Angela to sit on the velvet chaise. "You're welcome to check out the back while I take a few shots. Just warn me when you're ready to leave, and I'll let you know when we're taking a break."
"If you're sure?" I asked, taking a step back, still not sure whether I should escape out the front door or hide in the break room.
Angela sat gingerly on the lounge, stretching one leg out and delicately bending the second. Wynter guided her arms to the back of the chair so that her back was arched, emphasizing the globes of her breasts.
Was that top going to contain her breasts? The thought of seeing her nipples kept me frozen in place. But I wasn't going to be able to hide the inevitable erection if I stuck around.
"I'll be in the back if you need me," I managed to choke out, then turned and fled the space which had grown unbearably warm.
There was a roaring in my ears, and I felt like I'd run several miles at a sprint. No one warned me how difficult it would be to work with a woman who wore lingerie more often than not.
Did she wear that kind of thing when she was alone in her bedroom? Did seeing herself in an outfit like that make her want to touch herself?
I really hoped that was true. The thought of her fingers slipping beneath the lace and between her folds made it impossible to think of anything else.
That made me wonder if she was wet just from being on display, from me watching her from a distance.
I tried to focus on the room. Wobbly table. Two metal folding chairs. Chipped blue countertops. Minifridge that had seen better days. And a hole in the wall. The hole in the wall that was my responsibility. The reason I was here.
Today, I was going to rip out the shag carpet.
The olive-green color was offensive on a good day, but with the smell of mildew, we needed to get rid of it sooner rather than later.
And hopefully, the act of ripping it out would rid my brain of Angela spread out on the chaise.
I couldn't imagine why anyone installed carpet in a kitchen.
I took out my frustration on the carpet, pulling it out with the sheer force of my will. I wished I could clear my brain as easily as this room. It was satisfying ripping up the old floor. But I was dismayed to find linoleum underneath.
If we were going to fix the water damage, we'd need to remove all the layers and install a nice tile floor. One that would hold up under any future water damage.
I needed tools for the linoleum, but there was zero chance I was walking through that front room until Angela was fully covered. If I had to offer her my sweatshirt again, I would.
I'd pushed the back door, propping it open with a stopper, relishing the cold air. The wind whipped against my cheeks, cooling my overheated body. I paused at the bed of my truck, remembering that Angela hadn't returned my sweatshirt.
Did she wear it at night to bed without anything else? The thought of her bare under my sweatshirt sent me reeling all over again. I grabbed my crowbar, and moved with determination to the back door.
I kicked out the stopper and lifted the edge of the linoleum. There was no telling how many layers there were to this floor. Most people preferred to keep adding on, rather than to do a proper repair and remove the old. I assumed that was the case here too.
Avoiding the front of the store was self-preservation. I didn't want to walk out and see Angela in more sexy outfits. I mean, I did, but that was a terrible idea. I wouldn't be able to scrub the image of her in that red teddy out of my head.
Ripping out linoleum would keep me busy and my frustration level to a minimum. By the time I reached the subfloor, Angela would be dressed in regular clothes, and I wouldn't be thinking about whether she wore panties to bed under my sweatshirt.
I'd give her an update and get out of here. Then I'd probably go for a nice long run to burn off excess energy. And next time, I'd call before I stopped by. I didn't want to walk in on Angela in lingerie again.
That was a lie. But I kept telling myself that, because a part of me wished that Wynter wasn't here.
Then I could arrange Angela on that chaise and have my way with her.
The height was perfect for putting her on all fours and taking her from behind.
I could see her hanging onto the back while I plunged into her wet heat.
Instead of acting on any of the thoughts running through my head, I peeled back the linoleum, revealing another layer underneath. I'd gotten rid of the first layer and moved onto the second when Wynter appeared in the doorway with an amused expression on her face.
"I'm just cleaning up if you need to inspect the front area." Somehow, she made the word inspect sound suggestive.
My face heated, because all I could think about was inspecting Angela. Would she be wet underneath that scrap of material between her legs? "I'll do that as soon as I'm done here."
"And I'm sorry again. I didn't know that you were stopping by."
I sighed. "Next time, I'll call ahead."
Wynter grinned wider as she sailed back to the front. "I bet you will."
What was that supposed to mean? Did she know what I was thinking about? That seeing Angela on that lounge had done things to me? Things I didn't want to admit out loud to anyone. I was lusting over my new client who happened to be a single mom.
My mom wouldn't be happy that I was reacting to a single mother this way. She would tell me to stay far away. A single mom didn't need to deal with a bachelor like me. They wanted stability.
I needed to keep Angela squarely in the client and tenant box. And I needed to scrub my brain of the vision of her in that red teddy.