But I couldn’t help it. It was like my foot didn’t want to listen to my brain and instead of keeping still it started searching. Searching for what, I don’t freaking know. He was getting hard. My foot apparently wanted more.
His thumb stopped stroking me and we both kind of paused. Then next thing I knew he was out of the chair, and heading to bed before dinner. I didn’t see him again until the next morning for breakfast.
I don’t know what’s worse. The jerking off or the erection. But both have messed with me.
Plus on top of those two major mishaps, I have taken to dreaming about him. Every night I find his beard between my legs. His tongue, which I have no idea how talented it really is, brings me to orgasm just as I wake.
It’s torture.
Pure torture.
I don’t know how to stop it or if I want it to.
“Mackenzie!” Beau’s voice fills the room cutting through my daydreaming.
“What are you yelling for?” I drop my book and stand when I notice his face. All thoughts of playing it cool fade away and I gasp. “Oh, God what happened to you?” I step forward, needing a better look. Blood has dried from his brow down his face and all through his beard.
“Nothing. What are you wearing?” He runs his eyes over my nightgown before coming back up to my face.
“Errr, my nightgown?” His lip curls at my reply and I take a step back.
Ummm, what the hell?
“Mackenzie, you can’t be wearing this shit here. Not out on the porch. Half the fucking street probably jerked off to the sight of you tonight.” I ignore the fact he just said men are masturbating over me and zero in on him using my full name.
“What’s going on, Beau?”
“You’ve got no fucking clothes on, darlin’.” I look down at the black nightgown I’m wearing. The man’s crazy. It’s not like it’s revealing. The length hits just below my knee. The neckline is a little low, but it’s not like I have a large rack to put on display. In the grand scheme of things, it’s barely risqué.
“This?” I look back up, waiting for him to tell me he’s joking around.
“Yes, that. You can’t wear it.” He drops his helmet to the table and stalks into the kitchen. Ignoring his ridiculous comment and pissed-off mood, I follow him into the kitchen.
“What happened to your face?” I walk to the cabinet where the first-aid kit lives.
“Had a disagreement,” he answers, searching the fridge for food.
“I cooked dinner.” I wait for him to turn and face me. “I’ll fix it for you if you let me look at your eye.”
“What did you cook?”
Damn, he’s stubborn.
“Chicken pot pie.” He huffs then moves to the table with a beer in his hand. My pie’s clearly good enough to have him caving. I follow him over and open up the kit.
“Some disagreement then?” I lean down to have a closer look. He moans almost like he’s in pain and I step back.
“What? I didn’t even touch you.” He doesn’t say anything; instead, he takes off his cut and pulls his black shirt over his head.
“Put it on.” He offers it to me.
“You can’t be serious?” I scoff, caught between the thunderous glare he’s giving me and checking out his naked chest.
Seriously, this man.
“Darlin’, I’m fucking wired right now. Your tits are in my face. And this fucking sexy getup leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it together.”
“Beau?” I take another step back at his tone. I’m not sure if I’m turned on or scared. He’s never been this intense before and I take a minute to calm my breathing.
He won’t hurt me. I know this.
“Don’t even go there right now, Mackenzie. You have nothing to be scared of.” He notices my reaction and drops some of his tension. “Just put the shirt on, darlin’.” I know he’s right. I have nothing to be scared of with Beau, and I feel a little foolish for reacting. With quick fingers, I manage to pull it over my head.
“Fuck, it’s almost worse,” he mumbles, and if I weren’t freaking out, I would laugh at his displeasure.
“Should I leave?”
“Fuck no. Just let me stew for a while.” He draws a deep breath in and then slowly lets it out.
“Feeling better?” I ask when a few minutes of awkward silence pass.
“Getting there.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you going to let me clean you up?” I fold my arms in front of me. He follows my movements and shakes his head before lifting his mouth in a sexy smirk.
“Have at it.” He rests further back in his chair and allows me to proceed.
I step forward, open an antiseptic swab and begin removing all the dried blood first. I don’t know what the hell happened to stir this kind of reaction in him tonight. Beau’s never spoken like this to me before. Yeah, he has his moments of shortness and bossy ways, but this, this was something else. And I’m not sure if it really has anything to do with the nightgown.
“This part might sting.” I grab a clean swab and lean back over him. His eyes stay closed as I make short work of cleaning up the cut.
“It’s not too deep. I’ll just put a bandage on it to keep it closed.” I reach back to the first-aid box and search for some sterile strips. “So what happened tonight?” I ask when I find them.
His thumb stopped stroking me and we both kind of paused. Then next thing I knew he was out of the chair, and heading to bed before dinner. I didn’t see him again until the next morning for breakfast.
I don’t know what’s worse. The jerking off or the erection. But both have messed with me.
Plus on top of those two major mishaps, I have taken to dreaming about him. Every night I find his beard between my legs. His tongue, which I have no idea how talented it really is, brings me to orgasm just as I wake.
It’s torture.
Pure torture.
I don’t know how to stop it or if I want it to.
“Mackenzie!” Beau’s voice fills the room cutting through my daydreaming.
“What are you yelling for?” I drop my book and stand when I notice his face. All thoughts of playing it cool fade away and I gasp. “Oh, God what happened to you?” I step forward, needing a better look. Blood has dried from his brow down his face and all through his beard.
“Nothing. What are you wearing?” He runs his eyes over my nightgown before coming back up to my face.
“Errr, my nightgown?” His lip curls at my reply and I take a step back.
Ummm, what the hell?
“Mackenzie, you can’t be wearing this shit here. Not out on the porch. Half the fucking street probably jerked off to the sight of you tonight.” I ignore the fact he just said men are masturbating over me and zero in on him using my full name.
“What’s going on, Beau?”
“You’ve got no fucking clothes on, darlin’.” I look down at the black nightgown I’m wearing. The man’s crazy. It’s not like it’s revealing. The length hits just below my knee. The neckline is a little low, but it’s not like I have a large rack to put on display. In the grand scheme of things, it’s barely risqué.
“This?” I look back up, waiting for him to tell me he’s joking around.
“Yes, that. You can’t wear it.” He drops his helmet to the table and stalks into the kitchen. Ignoring his ridiculous comment and pissed-off mood, I follow him into the kitchen.
“What happened to your face?” I walk to the cabinet where the first-aid kit lives.
“Had a disagreement,” he answers, searching the fridge for food.
“I cooked dinner.” I wait for him to turn and face me. “I’ll fix it for you if you let me look at your eye.”
“What did you cook?”
Damn, he’s stubborn.
“Chicken pot pie.” He huffs then moves to the table with a beer in his hand. My pie’s clearly good enough to have him caving. I follow him over and open up the kit.
“Some disagreement then?” I lean down to have a closer look. He moans almost like he’s in pain and I step back.
“What? I didn’t even touch you.” He doesn’t say anything; instead, he takes off his cut and pulls his black shirt over his head.
“Put it on.” He offers it to me.
“You can’t be serious?” I scoff, caught between the thunderous glare he’s giving me and checking out his naked chest.
Seriously, this man.
“Darlin’, I’m fucking wired right now. Your tits are in my face. And this fucking sexy getup leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it together.”
“Beau?” I take another step back at his tone. I’m not sure if I’m turned on or scared. He’s never been this intense before and I take a minute to calm my breathing.
He won’t hurt me. I know this.
“Don’t even go there right now, Mackenzie. You have nothing to be scared of.” He notices my reaction and drops some of his tension. “Just put the shirt on, darlin’.” I know he’s right. I have nothing to be scared of with Beau, and I feel a little foolish for reacting. With quick fingers, I manage to pull it over my head.
“Fuck, it’s almost worse,” he mumbles, and if I weren’t freaking out, I would laugh at his displeasure.
“Should I leave?”
“Fuck no. Just let me stew for a while.” He draws a deep breath in and then slowly lets it out.
“Feeling better?” I ask when a few minutes of awkward silence pass.
“Getting there.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you going to let me clean you up?” I fold my arms in front of me. He follows my movements and shakes his head before lifting his mouth in a sexy smirk.
“Have at it.” He rests further back in his chair and allows me to proceed.
I step forward, open an antiseptic swab and begin removing all the dried blood first. I don’t know what the hell happened to stir this kind of reaction in him tonight. Beau’s never spoken like this to me before. Yeah, he has his moments of shortness and bossy ways, but this, this was something else. And I’m not sure if it really has anything to do with the nightgown.
“This part might sting.” I grab a clean swab and lean back over him. His eyes stay closed as I make short work of cleaning up the cut.
“It’s not too deep. I’ll just put a bandage on it to keep it closed.” I reach back to the first-aid box and search for some sterile strips. “So what happened tonight?” I ask when I find them.
