“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” he sang in a way that told me it wasn’t nothing.
“Whatever,” I grumbled and stood up.
The sunlight streaming through the bay window was calling to me. I was intent on enjoying as much of it as I could. Except when I sat down on the pillowed bench and looked outside, the sun wasn’t the only thing I saw. Preston was out there sandbagging. I watched him hoist two up on his shoulder, then walk over to the right side and place them on a barrier he was building.
“What is he doing?” Tico muttered from behind me.
I had no idea, but I did know that every time he shifted a sandbag, the muscles in his forearms bulged out in the most enticing way. His sandy hair was damp from the sweat on his forehead, and I swore I could hear him grunt.
Tico was just as entranced as I was. He plopped down on the bench beside me, propped his chin up with his hand, and followed Preston as he sauntered over to pick up a bottle of water.
“It should be against the law for someone to look that good.”
“He’s okay,.” If okay meant ‘so damn hot, I wanted him to pour that water over his head.’
Preston twisted the cap off the bottle as a monologue started in my head.
Dump it on your head.
You can do it.
Just a little drizzle.
Then damnit, when the bottle touched his lips….
Watching his Adam’s apple bob while he swallowed was pretty damn sexy.
Wait. Why was I thinking about this?
Yeah, sure. Preston was good-looking, but he was cruel, evil, and rough.
And hard in all the right places.
My head tipped as he ran his fingers through his hair. I bet he smelled great right now. All masculine and covered in sweat.
Tico let out a longing sigh. “I wonder if he fucks like his dad?”
“What?” Where the hell did that question come from? Hold on… “Did you fuck his dad?”
A smirk spread across his face. “More like he fucked me.”
Oh my god. “Dean Whitley? Really?”
Not that Dean wasn’t nice to look at, but he was weird, always smiling and acting like the perfect dad. I couldn’t imagine him in a sexual way or even being turned on.
“Was he…rough?”
“Let’s just say he likes to be in control.”
That made me snort. “Must be a Whitley trait.”
I realized my mistake when Tico’s eyes swung my way. “So Preston has fucked you?”
“Fucking implies consent,” I argued with a finger point. “Which he didn’t have.”
“Uh-huh?” Tico huffed, making me roll my eyes.
