Vivian Arend - Turn It On

Oh hell, she hoped so.

Ryan took the corner into the room faster than he should have and clutched his papers to stop them from flying from his fingers. Climbing the stairs behind the delectable Ms. Turner and her shapely ass gave him a massive hard-on he’d hidden behind his notepad like some teenager in high school.

The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, and he fought to stop the growl of need that rose in the pit of his stomach, and lower. Watching her in the sunlight, he’d been captivated by the warmth of her skin, the expression on her face as she momentarily shed the strain of worry haunting her since the first time they’d met. He longed to pull her back into his arms and drag his fingers through her sunlit hair, cup her to his body to consume her lips at his leisure.

Fuck, forget the lips, he wanted to consume her. Every scrumptious, voluptuous inch of her.

He dropped the notepad on the wide window ledge and braced his hands on either side. Pushing aside his body’s urging to go find Ms. Turner and demand a far more personal inspection than she had requested, he stared out the window and concentrated on the job at hand.

The house was massive, and the yard on either side opened to vast wooded forest. The back faced a small lake according to the paperwork he’d checked at the surveyor’s office. Forty plus acres of land surrounded the house that was one step shy of a heritage home, luckily for Ms. Turner. Having to do the restorations to heritage-home standards could be a pocket breaker, even kicking in insurance money.

Finally distracted enough to ignore his still-throbbing cock, Ryan worked his way through the first rooms of the upper floor. It was difficult to see any signs of water damage. Max’s repair crew were fantastic, although he was surprised they weren’t hard at it this afternoon.

By the time he reconnected with Maxine, things were under control. Things that needed to stay under control, at least until he decided what to do about his attraction to the woman.

“How come there are no finishers working today?” he asked when Maxine met him in the hall outside an ornate door.

“The owner of the crew is a family friend. He got a call for an urgent fix from a regular client. Since he’s doing me a favor working me into his schedule I’m not going to complain about him pausing this job. It’s tough to get good workers. I’ll live with the mess until they find the time to come back.”

Ryan frowned. “I thought you were living at your brother’s?”

She shrugged. “Until this weekend. The house was supposed to be completed this week and I made arrangements to leave. It’s a little…awkward staying with Junior, what with the new baby and friends always visiting.”

That explained the tiredness. In spades. “You’re moving back in already?”

“Most of the house is livable again. It makes sense.” She led him into the next room and gestured. “The renovations in the master bathroom were completed before the damage occurred. In fact, the new drains they installed in there dealt with the excess water and all that had to be done was mop the floor.”

Ryan strode through the door and his limbs involuntarily froze. The largest bed he’d seen in his entire life occupied the center of the far wall. Pillows were piled high at the headboard and thick corner posts supported a heavy canopy. The curtains at the tall windows to the right hung wide open and sunbeams fell on the quilt-covered monstrosity.

All he could see was the image of Maxine Turner spread for his pleasure, light reflecting off her skin as she waited, naked, on the satin sheets. He shook his head to clear his lust-filled fantasies and followed Max’s hips into the bathroom. An antique claw-footed tub twice the size of a regular tub sat opposite a glass shower enclosure covering an entire wall. The buzzing in his ears grew loud enough to drown out whatever she continued to tell him and suddenly it was imperative he get the fuck out of the room.

Before she found herself on her bed with her legs over his shoulders.

“Where is the access to the attic rooms?” he asked abruptly, interrupting her.

Maxine jumped at his tone and drew in a quick breath. Her gaze darted past him and he knew she was looking at that bed. She immediately flushed red, swallowing hard before guiding him from the room. When she would have led him up the stairs he held up a hand.

“I’ll go look around myself. You don’t need to stick around.” God knows if he could stand watching her ass for one more second without pouncing on her.

Max nodded, stumbling backward. “I’ll go make some…ice tea. When you’re done, join me in the kitchen and we can have a drink before I show you outside.” She barely waited for his acknowledgement before fleeing.

He adjusted his raging erection before climbing to the third story. Holy fuck, the reaction between him and Ms. Turner should be classified as a dangerous weapon.

The third floor contained typical small servant rooms from the turn of the century with an additional microscopic bathroom. The only item of real interest was the attic crawlspace, filled with boxes and baskets and trunks. The usual assortment of generations of treasures and trash, all mixed together.

While he wandered, Ryan debated the wisdom of getting involved in a physical relationship with Maxine. Oh hell, his body had no qualms, it was his head that doubted the merit of the idea. Since his brother’s care had been thrust upon him, it seemed his personal time was nonexistent. Maxine didn’t seem the type for casual sex, no matter how good her legs would feel wrapped around him. By the time he approached the kitchen, he had it all figured out. The logical thing was to keep his hands off her and make sure this stayed a purely business relationship. He opened the door to the back section of the house and Maxine’s seductive perfume with its trace of apple blossoms assaulted him. His entire body tightened with need and his blood roared through him.

Fucking logic. He would kill for a taste of her right now.

Sunlight flooded the kitchen. Solid oak cabinetry lined the near walls while at the far end of the room a massive dining table filled the open space. Earth-tone tiles covered the floor and the whole space screamed comfort. A pitcher of tea and a couple of glasses of ice waited on the island but Maxine was nowhere to be seen. Ryan strode toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared through the French doors at the pond visible across the expanse of green lawn bordering the deck.

A muffled curse reached his ears and Ryan swung around, searching for the source. Where in the devil had Max disappeared to? A crash sounded from behind a door in the corner of the kitchen. Ryan yanked it open to find Maxine struggling under the weight of a dislodged shelf. The rest of the pantry goods on it were perilously close to joining a broken jam jar on the floor.

“Damn it, why didn’t you call for help?” Ryan asked as he reached around her to grasp the shelf. He took the weight and she sighed in relief, dropping her arms to her sides for a moment before grabbing at the loose goods and transferring them to another shelf. Ryan clenched his teeth as her ass rubbed his groin and reawakened his cock.

“I did call.” Her voice was gravelly and rough. “For a while. You must have been too far away to hear me.”

“Don’t talk until you get a drink.” The shelf grew lighter as she removed the cans and jars, and Ryan lowered it to waist height and placed it to the side. Maxine remained trapped within the circle of his arms and she eased back, her head on his shoulder.

“Sorry. Need to rest for a minute,” she croaked.

Ryan let her lean on him, massaging her arms to bring back the circulation. This wasn’t how he’d imagined getting to hold her, but who in the hell cared? She was soft and warm, and damn it all, she smelled wonderful. He fought the urge to take advantage of the opportunity and stroke her torso more intimately. Cup her breasts and see if they really would overflow his hands like he’d pictured. A little groaning noise slipped from her lips and he envisioned her under him making those sounds, and his cock hardened even more. Shit, he had to get his mind on other things.

She shifted position and her butt cheek brushed his zipper. His dick jerked in response. Fuck. If he didn’t get some control fast, he was going to explode.

He forced himself to concentrate. “How long were you standing there?”

“Too long.”

She melted against him. Holy shit, there was no way he could survive much more of this. Looking around for a distraction, he spotted the shelf hooks still hanging precariously from the wall. The support screws seemed to have ripped clean out of all six holes at the same time.

Maxine shifted her feet slightly and something crunched.

“Shit. Gramma’s jelly.”

Ryan looked down to see dark purple spreading at their feet, sharp shards of glass poking through the gooey mass. He glanced at the thin-soled slippers she wore.

“Don’t move, I’ll take care of it.” Her cry of surprise rang in his ear as he lifted her, and she whipped her arms out and clung to his neck. The tantalizing sensation of her breasts pressed tight against him made his mouth water, but he ignored the temptation. He stepped to the edge of the pantry, pausing to kick off his shoes before walking to the island and depositing her carefully on the countertop.

“Ryan, I—”

“Sit and relax for a minute. The floor looks freshly tiled and grouted in here, and we don’t want to get Gramma’s jelly all over it. Right?”