Page 39 of Solitary Man

I put them in the drawer as well.

After a bathroom break, I got back to work, reading over the last few paragraphs I’d written. I’d finish this draft by the end of the week at this rate.

A repetitive sound had me lifting my head a while later. I glanced at the time. 3 p.m. Another three hours had ticked by. I’d been sitting here in my fabulous, new office nearly all day. And I’d been so engrossed in my work, I still hadn’t gotten out of my pj’s.

The plate that had my muffin on it was empty, so was the tea. So I’d obviously finished them during my writing frenzy. The repetitive sound, loud and jarring, came again and had me looking out the window. The chair squeaked in the silent room, and I kind of froze, my mouth dropping open at the sight before me.

Cash was outside the barn. His shirt was off, and he was wielding an ax like a marauding Viking. His expression was harsh, focused, as he brought the ax down on an innocent chunk of wood, cleaving it in two with one brutal whack. His bare chest glistened with sweat despite the cooler temperature. He scooped the chunks of wood off the ground and tossed them onto a pile against the barn wall, and the thick slabs of muscles in his arms, chest, and stomach danced in a way that made my mouth water.

Cash had a warrior’s body, his muscles built from years of hard physical labor—thick and heavy, wrapped around his large, solid frame. He was a sight to see.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I sat there for a long time, watching as he worked his way through that pile of wood, splitting it so we’d have a fire over the winter. So he could keep us warm. And that brutal, fierce expression never left his face once.

He brought the ax down hard again, and I squirmed in my seat. Watching had made me hot and wet and aching. I always wanted him. Every night he had me, hard and unyielding. His body taking mine like he thought it was the last time. Rough-skinned hands moving my body where he wanted it. Deep, hungry kisses. I couldn’t get enough of Cash’s brand of loving.

He swung the ax once more, burying it in the large block he split the logs on, then he scooped up his shirt and started across the field. I turned back to my laptop and tried to focus, to get back into the scene I’d been writing, but the ache between my thighs was unrelenting.

The front door opening and closing reached me and had my heart racing faster. It did that a lot around Cash. Just knowing he was near. And I still hadn’t gotten used to that gorgeous blue gaze. His eyes made my belly squirm every time he aimed them at me. God, all he had to do was look at me and I’d give him anything he wanted.

My breath quickened at the thump of his boots coming down the hall. The door opened and there he was, still shirtless, chest glistening, brow furrowed, beautiful blue eyes on me.

“You need something?”

I licked my lips. “You don’t have to come all the way inside and ask me that. I can fend for myself. Though, thank you for the muffin and the tea. I probably would have forgotten to eat if you hadn’t brought them to me. I was so caught up in writing, I didn’t even notice.”

His hands went to his hips. “I know.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

Having a husband who was a man of few words could be difficult at times. Like now. He was waiting for an answer, and I wasn’t exactly sure what the question was. “Um…no, I don’t need anything.”

“You were watching me.”

I flushed. Ridiculous with the things we’d done to each other, but still, getting caught perving at my new husband shirtless and chopping wood made me blush. Not much I could to about that.

I squirmed in my seat, and it squeaked again.

Cash’s frown deepened, and he moved around the desk and crouched beside me, turning the seat with me in it to inspect it.

I shifted one leg to the side to give him room while he did this, as he moved his hand over smooth wood. And that just turned me on more.

“I’ll fix it. Stop the noise.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice husky from having him so close.

When his eyes lifted, they went right between my legs.

My massive husband stilled, then huffed out a breath before raising one of his hands, going right to the scrap of fabric covering me. He hooked his finger in it and yanked it aside.

I wasn’t wearing any panties underneath, since I’d just pulled on the shorts after we’d had sex during the night. I flushed, imagining how swollen and wet and pink I probably looked from all my squirming while watching him work.

His nostrils flared and his gaze lifted to mine, eyes filled with heat. “How did this happen, wife?”

I shivered. I loved him like this. Craved it. “I was watching my husband chop wood with his shirt off. It’s all your fault. I started to have all these…thoughts,” I said shakily. “So really, it’s your responsibility to make it better.”

His gaze moved down my body, then back up, slowly, hungrily. “Yeah, it is,” he said roughly.

He stayed on his knees but lifted from his crouch, hands going to the arms of the chair, boxing me in. “What thoughts?”