Read Online Life in a Rut, Love not Included (Love Not Included series Book 1) by J.D. Hollyfield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J.D. Hollyfield
Tags: Book 1, Love Not Included Series
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before Jack can say anything. “Yeah, Mom. He was just coming in for a glass of water.” I look at Mom then look at Jack who seems to be a bit caught off guard, not to mention winded.
“Oh, that’s nice of you dear.” As she sets the other bag down on the counter, she turns around and looks at us both, assessing. “Well honey, aren’t you going to get him some water? I’m sure he has work to do.”
Oh yeah, water . . .”Right.” I turn and trip over my own foot as I stumble to the sink. I open the cupboard and grab for the nearest glass, and two others come falling out at me. I’m completely staying cool right now . . . Not. I ignore my mom’s curious glances and continue my task. While filling the cup, I stare at Jack’s reflection in the window. While Mom turns her head to put away groceries, I notice him adjust himself. Whoa . . . Did not expect that. Sexy McKiss-a-lot seems a little affected by our make-out session. I mean, who wouldn’t though, making out like teenagers in my parents’ kitchen?
More interruptions. “Hey, boss.” A tall attractive blond sticks his head in through the back kitchen door. “We could use a hand with the shutter boards,” he says.
Jack pulls himself together. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be right there,” he says, then he turns to me and says, “Thanks,” and he walks out the back door.
Wow . . . I simply think while I proceed to chug the glass of water in my hand.
“Honey, wasn’t that for Jack?” my mother asks in complete confusion. I just continue drinking.
W HELP, WHERE TO GO from here? I will admit that I have a whole new burst of energy, because I most definitely do. But it’s also dinner time and I have a martini hangover starting to invite itself into my scull. I debate going to bed in hopes of finishing that little episode with Jack in my dreams. But how about we take a step back first and figure out what the hell just happened in there. I mean, one minute I was sitting there crying like a pathetic loser, and the next minute I was embraced in Jack’s arms playing tonsil hockey with him. And possibly the best game I’ve ever played, may I add. I can’t deny the sparks that seemed to electrocute my senses while we kissed. I can still feel my swollen lips tingling. I touch my fingers to my lips while replaying the scene in my head. Somehow, I make it up to my room without bumping into any walls since the only thing I see is my own homemade movie playing in front of me. I shut my door and lean against the cold wood. Sigh.
Double sigh.
I notice banging and shuffling of tools and equipment out back, and peel myself off the door to walk towards the window and take a peek. I spot Jack immediately and watch as he talks while pointing to some of the equipment, instructing his men on what to do.
I stand leaning on the window while I watch him work. The way his strong muscles stretch and firm while maneuvering his equipment. The way the sun hits his face and sweat gathers over his forehead. I watch him wipe away a bead of sweat dripping down his face, and grab for his tools with extensive force. Holy mother of hotness, what kind of man is this?
I can’t stop watching him work, and admire his skills for the job. His strong rough hands maneuvering heavy materials. Lifting wood boards half my weight with such ease. Steve didn’t have rough hands at all. I think Steve had softer hands than I did, in fact. Growing up with money, and having everyone care for him, I don’t think he had ever even lifted a finger of his own.
Jack moves out of my line of vision and like that vermouth, I simply cannot get enough. Trying to get a better look, I climb over a few boxes and adjust myself to get into a perfect lean-into position between the dresser and box tower. Just watching him is making me sweat. He’s using his hands in ways I wouldn’t mind having all over me like that. Maybe we can turn this into a little ‘you touch yourself, I touch myself’ demonstration. I
“Oh, that’s nice of you dear.” As she sets the other bag down on the counter, she turns around and looks at us both, assessing. “Well honey, aren’t you going to get him some water? I’m sure he has work to do.”
Oh yeah, water . . .”Right.” I turn and trip over my own foot as I stumble to the sink. I open the cupboard and grab for the nearest glass, and two others come falling out at me. I’m completely staying cool right now . . . Not. I ignore my mom’s curious glances and continue my task. While filling the cup, I stare at Jack’s reflection in the window. While Mom turns her head to put away groceries, I notice him adjust himself. Whoa . . . Did not expect that. Sexy McKiss-a-lot seems a little affected by our make-out session. I mean, who wouldn’t though, making out like teenagers in my parents’ kitchen?
More interruptions. “Hey, boss.” A tall attractive blond sticks his head in through the back kitchen door. “We could use a hand with the shutter boards,” he says.
Jack pulls himself together. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be right there,” he says, then he turns to me and says, “Thanks,” and he walks out the back door.
Wow . . . I simply think while I proceed to chug the glass of water in my hand.
“Honey, wasn’t that for Jack?” my mother asks in complete confusion. I just continue drinking.
W HELP, WHERE TO GO from here? I will admit that I have a whole new burst of energy, because I most definitely do. But it’s also dinner time and I have a martini hangover starting to invite itself into my scull. I debate going to bed in hopes of finishing that little episode with Jack in my dreams. But how about we take a step back first and figure out what the hell just happened in there. I mean, one minute I was sitting there crying like a pathetic loser, and the next minute I was embraced in Jack’s arms playing tonsil hockey with him. And possibly the best game I’ve ever played, may I add. I can’t deny the sparks that seemed to electrocute my senses while we kissed. I can still feel my swollen lips tingling. I touch my fingers to my lips while replaying the scene in my head. Somehow, I make it up to my room without bumping into any walls since the only thing I see is my own homemade movie playing in front of me. I shut my door and lean against the cold wood. Sigh.
Double sigh.
I notice banging and shuffling of tools and equipment out back, and peel myself off the door to walk towards the window and take a peek. I spot Jack immediately and watch as he talks while pointing to some of the equipment, instructing his men on what to do.
I stand leaning on the window while I watch him work. The way his strong muscles stretch and firm while maneuvering his equipment. The way the sun hits his face and sweat gathers over his forehead. I watch him wipe away a bead of sweat dripping down his face, and grab for his tools with extensive force. Holy mother of hotness, what kind of man is this?
I can’t stop watching him work, and admire his skills for the job. His strong rough hands maneuvering heavy materials. Lifting wood boards half my weight with such ease. Steve didn’t have rough hands at all. I think Steve had softer hands than I did, in fact. Growing up with money, and having everyone care for him, I don’t think he had ever even lifted a finger of his own.
Jack moves out of my line of vision and like that vermouth, I simply cannot get enough. Trying to get a better look, I climb over a few boxes and adjust myself to get into a perfect lean-into position between the dresser and box tower. Just watching him is making me sweat. He’s using his hands in ways I wouldn’t mind having all over me like that. Maybe we can turn this into a little ‘you touch yourself, I touch myself’ demonstration. I
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