Chapter 7
Seven
Skylar
This man might be better at flirting than I am.
We’ll just see about that.
The next morning, I run into Riley Hutchinson while picking up a tray of coffee drinks from Cardinal Coffee.
“When do you open? I’m so excited for a new bookstore!” she says brightly.
In about a month, I tell her.
“Thank god you got a new owner. The Bradbury family has had their death grip on my building for decades and would never come down in rent. Believe me, I tried setting up my studio there, and they would never work with me.”
I blink at her. “New owner?”
“That’s what Pete said. Didn’t he tell you?”
I shake my head no. He did bring over a new lease agreement last week, but he said it had been revised; there weren’t many changes. He didn’t say anything about a new owner. But then again, I didn’t read the fine print.
I feel stupid, but I have to ask, “Did he say who the new owner is?”
Riley looks sheepish. “Well, yeah. It’s public record. Everyone knows F. Harris LLC bought it. Otherwise known as Harris Construction of Lake Norman. Big, big bucks coming from Charlotte all the way to our little hamlet. Wild.”
I stare at her, and she interprets this as me being an idiot.
“You know, Iris’s boyfriend, Oliver, is a Harris.
I just assumed since that Oliver guy is dating your best friend, there might be a connection there.
” Riley sort of trails off. “Anyway, I’ve obviously told you something you didn’t know, and I’m gonna go now. See ya!”
That’s…interesting.
I make my way down the street to the building and notice the door is propped open.
Out front, there’s an oversized work truck backed up to the sidewalk, and there are sawhorses and saws and wood and tools lying around.
I’m assuming this is what it’s going to look like for the next three weeks.
People are maneuvering around the work area thanks to the barricades Finn has set up in my section of the block.
I carefully step over a pile of wood and enter the room to the scene. I am completely unprepared for what I find.
This is truly a construction zone. Brick has been exposed. The drywall that used to be here has been removed, and the walls have been gutted to the studs.
Around a corner, I find Finn, shirtless, his tanned upper back gleaming with sweat, nailing boards together with a nail gun.
He has a pencil tucked behind one ear, and his jeans sag on his hips under the weight of a seriously slutty tool belt.
The waistband of his black underwear peaks out just under the dents in his lower back.
My god, the dents. Perfect tiny receptacles for chocolate syrup.
I nearly drop my drink tray along with my panties.
“Knock, knock,” I say. Knock me over with a feather.
He turns to me and gives a quick nod, then turns back to his work. “Good morning,” he says, focused on not shooting a nail through his hand.
I strode in here, prepared to question him about all the information he conveniently left out, but now I am twitching like a cat in heat.
Slowly and carefully, I approach and set down the drink tray on a nearby work table. “You got here early today.”
“I wanted to get a head start,” he says flatly. “Lot of work to do.”
When he leans over to pick up another board, I nearly lose it as I stare at the bunching muscles in his shoulders, traps, and triceps.
So many places to nibble, scratch, and suck.
“Right. I was wondering…”
“Here,” he says, handing me a hard hat to wear.
Grudgingly, I put it on, not sure if I’m doing it right.
“Can you help me with this?” I ask.
He sets down the board he’s just picked up and comes closer to inspect the hard hat. “There’s nothing to it,” he says.
I blink up at him. “I just wanted an excuse to get closer so I could do this.”
I don’t need to come in hot, demanding answers. I can see that I was right the first time. Finn is a good and honest man. Even if he leaves out certain details about our arrangement.
“Do what?”
My hand reaches for his but misses, and instead I’m touching his forearm. That veiny, hard, strong forearm, slightly damp from already fitting in more physical labor before coffee than I’m comfortable with. “Say thank you.”
“For what?”
I shake my head. “I read over my new lease agreement, finally. I looked at the fine print. F Harris LLC? Rent is one dollar a month? Are you out of your mind?”
“It can’t be free, so that’s the best I can do,” he says. “Some state law or something.”
I shake my head. “I mean, are you actually out of your mind?”
He stares down at me. My hand slides upward along the sinews of his forearm. I let my gaze flick downward, taking in the broad chest, the gentle smattering of hair that trails down the middle, over the soft curve of his stomach.
I flit my eyes back up to meet his.
He tips up the brim of my hard hat with a leather-gloved hand. “Completely.”
Things start hitting the floor, and it takes me a moment to realize that was him removing his work gloves, yanking out the cord of the nail gun, and tossing it into his oversized toolbox.
“Quitting for the day already?” I tease.
Finn turns back to me and doesn’t answer, but his thumb runs over my bottom lip.
My nipples harden.
“What are you doing?”
“You started it, Strawberry. With your flirting. You touching my arm like that. You’re getting real close and making my head all foggy.”
“It was only flirting.”
“Is flirting supposed to make me want to do this?”
I inhale sharply as Finn sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it with his teeth. The unexpected move, and the pleasure that follows, makes me lightheaded.
I kiss back, pressing my hands to his hard trapezius muscles to keep steady on my feet.
One moment he’s sucking my bottom lip and the next, it’s a full-on kiss. Nothing short or sweet or teasing about it. Finn kisses like I’m his last meal, plunging his tongue into my mouth, bending me backward.
I give a little yelp when I feel I might topple over, and instantly Finn’s arm is curled around my waist, pulling me tight against him.
His mouth tastes like peppermint gum. The scruff on his chin feels wonderful against my skin, promising so much more.
Putting pictures in my head of what that scruff could do in other places. My breasts, my inner thighs…
He slows his penetrating tongue, letting me kiss him back.
I lick into his mouth, running my hands up over his shoulders, down to his collarbones, until I’m fully groping that sweaty chest.
Finn growls into my mouth.
I am fucking wet at 9 a.m. on a workday.
“What the hell are we doing?” I ask.
“Having fun,” he replies.
I can’t argue with that.
The way his tongue slides against mine, slowly, sensuously, makes me ache between my legs.
“You accuse me of flirting,” I say breathlessly, “But you’re the one working without a shirt on like a damn thirst trap.”
One of my hands wanders down his chest, petting the small patch of hair at the top of his stomach.
It’s soft, and not a pelt, but just right.
Perfect, in fact. I run the tips of my fingers through it, which must be something Finn really likes because his mouth attacks mine in another deep, wet kiss, claiming me with his tongue.
I try not to make a sound. I don’t want to sound like a shocked little virgin at every turn, but I can’t help it. I let out a moan that’s more of a squeak. God, all that muscle and a pleasing little tummy. Someone built this one just the way I like it.
Finn pulls away and curses.
“What’s wrong?”
“The noises you make. Too fucking hot.”
I press my lips lightly against the dip between his collarbones. “Too hot to get back to work?”
With a growl, Finn braces the back of my neck, fisting my hair. He doesn’t kiss me again, not yet. He just stares at me, jaw clenching. I can’t tell if he’s angry or horny or both. Both is good. Both is wonderful.
“It’s the maypole dance. It does something to people. It makes them crazy,” I inform him, teasing him with a coquettish smile. “Lot of people around here with birthdays exactly nine months from May Day.”
“That is exactly my kind of crazy,” he says.
“Mine, too.”
He scrambles to help me tug off the oversized long-sleeve T-shirt I’m wearing. He smiles at the sports bra I wear underneath.
“So sexy. I know. But before you say anything, I thought I was preparing for strictly work today.”
“Oh, I’m gonna make you work,” Finn says.
I gasp, unable to respond to that as he angles his face down and runs his lips over the tender skin at the top of one of my breasts. The light touch and the rasp of his slight whiskers is too delicious. I want more, I want it all right now, but I let him do what he wants.
I recall thinking, when we first met three weeks ago, that Finn gives off the energy of a man who knows what he wants and he’ll take control when it comes to sex. I have desperately wanted to explore that these last three weeks.
I simply let my head loll back as he drags his slack mouth over my skin, one breast then the other, while his thumb breaches the bottom edge of my sports bra.
My nipples are so fucking hard I want to scream for him to be licking them already.
Finally, he hooks one finger into the pull at the front of my bra and tugs. The zipper of my sports bra opens, and both breasts spill out.
He groans something unintelligible as he looks at them for a long, lingering moment, his brows knit together as if studying an enigma.
My breath is ragged. My breasts heave, waiting.
Finn mumbles, “fucking beautiful,” as he cups one and tastes the other. Pleasure skitters through my veins. He purses his lips over one nipple and sucks softly, pulling an embarrassing, mewling sound out of my throat.
Finn switches then, feeding my other nipple into his mouth, and caressing the opposite with one persistent thumb. My already-hard buds go tight and achy at his teasing fingers and worshiping mouth. His tongue licks, his teeth softly scrape, and my head empties of all thought.
Except one: someone could walk in here at any minute. Curious shoppers. Nosy townsfolk. City inspectors demanding to see building permits. Who knows?
And if they did? It would be their own fault.
Finn makes me forget all that as he licks and sucks to the point of making the ache reach its breaking point. How…how is it that I can feel it in my pussy when he licks just like that?
Seemingly acting on its own, my thigh tries and fails to hook around his leg. I don’t have balance, but my body just wants to grind on him if he’s going to keep it up with the titty action.
The next thing I know, he’s got me around a corner, backed against one of the gutted walls, in a nook between the bare studs. Perfect. Out of view of the door to the street. And I’ve got leverage now as I lean against the wall. But my shock, he pushes my leg back down and says,
“Arms up.”
I do as he says.
Finn’s caress is everything. I’m far from a speechless girl. I’m not a girl who swoons at the slightest touch of a man. I pride myself on being able to keep my armor up. But he’s working me up into a frenzy, and he knows it.
I don’t want to beg, but he’s making me nuts.
I can’t keep going like this.
“Finn…”
He told me to keep my arms up, but this need…it’s too much. I reach down and unbutton my jeans. Slipping one hand inside the waistband of my panties, I anticipate my release coming quickly. A small orgasm, that’s all I need.
Finn pulls away, his look severe.
At first, I’m not sure if he’s about to reprimand me or what. But he says, “You need to come bad, don’t you, Strawberry?”
I answer by biting my swollen bottom lip and letting out almost a childish squeak. I nod my head.
Gently but firmly, he says. “Reach up and hold on to the studs. I got this.”