Page 11 of Sinful Sharing

I won’t be nice to Taylor.

In his case, being nice might be what ruins me.

7

Jude

I’ve always liked pretty things.

Horses. Sunsets. Waterfalls.

Men.

Especially ones with delicate cheekbones and large, expressive blue eyes. Perfect pink lips. A lean, tight body. I shift my weight against the doorframe, watching as Taylor takes a healthy drink of water from a bottle.

And I remember my promise to Roman.

Taylor wipes his jacket sleeve across his mouth and sets the bottle down. He walks to the stack of hay, and I frown when he moves past the small ones. I’d specifically told him to carry the smaller squares. Instead, he disobeys me.

“What is he doing?” I mutter.

Nothing smart, apparently. He bends his knees and wraps both arms around a large square. His face immediately tightens with effort. The bale barely shifts. A strained groan escapes his mouth.

“Oh, for fuck’s—“

I push away from the door and cross the barn floor within seconds. Before he can attempt another lift, I grab the bale and pull it effortlessly from his hands. Taylor stumbles back, glaring at me. “What the hell?”

“Are you trying to throw your back out?” I ask, dropping the hay onto the dirt floor.

A light flush spreads across his cheeks. “I had it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He tries to grab the square. I ease him back. He pouts. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you strain yourself.”

“Why do you even care?” he asks.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” I reply. “Tearing your muscles is no joke, trust me.”

Taylor’s expression softens a bit, then he snorts. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me.”

My brows lift. “You call this being nice?”

“Not just now; you’ve been like this since I got here. People are only friendly with me when they want something.”

He cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “What do you want from me, Jude?”

I chuckle softly, glad he can’t read my mind. What I want from him is too ungodly for those innocent ears of his. And I can tell that he is innocent. Those deep, blue eyes stare back at me, completely unaware that I’m a man who wants to fuck his brains out.

“What I want is for you to get back home in one piece,” I reply. “I’m sure your mother would appreciate that very much.”

A flicker of emotion darts across his face. Disappointment. At least, I think that’s what it is. He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Fine. I’ll stick to what I can handle.”

“Good boy.”

Taylor dips his head. A crimson flush covers his entire face, then spreads to his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his jacket. Adorable. And now I’m wondering how far that blush goes. A sharp beep from my wrist stops those thoughts from venturing further into darkness. I glance down at my watch. Lunchtime.

I look back at Taylor. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”