glanced toward the kitchen area. “That table looks perfect.”
When he stood, he realized his mistake. He’d done nothing to hide the erection straining against his trousers. Sadie’s gaze dropped to that exact spot and darted away. Her breasts rose and fell more rapidly. Knowing his hardness made her breathe faster squeezed his balls until they ached.
“I’ll carry this for you.” He took the book from her hands and held it low, shielding his obvious desire for her.
Maybe they should go to bed and get it out of their systems. Then they could concentrate on work. Caleb had told him he’d seduced Pearl bit by bit because she was a proper young lady and a virgin. Sadie was no virgin, and Henry didn’t have his brother’s finesse. Once he gave in, he wouldn’t be able to stop until he’d stripped her and fucked her. Hard.
Just like he had Natalie… A shiver of dread coursed through him as his erection vanished. Intercourse created babies. If he got Sadie with child, the Klan would crucify him first and Rockfield’s second.
He flipped on the overhead light. Once she was seated, he brewed a pot of coffee and poured her a cup.
“I made it strong,” he warned.
“Exactly the way I like it.” She didn’t look up from the ledger. “Do you have any cream?”
The memory of Natalie retreated at the erotic image of filling Sadie with his cream. Her hand, her mouth, her cunt... He didn’t care as long as he filled her and claimed her. Hoping it would cool him off, he opened the small refrigerator. He opened the bottle of milk and sniffed it because he had no idea how old it was.
She was right. He did live like a pig. Since Natalie, he’d had no time or desire for a woman in his life. Until now. But Sadie was probably a novelty. Her dark skin made her different and fascinating. A different breed of fish. A new brand of boat engine.
It would pass. Maybe that’s why she held him at arm’s length. Thank goodness something did.
He set a spoon and the bottle of milk in front of her. “Help yourself.”
When she sniffed the milk, too, a bark of laughter shot from his throat. Must be the tension.
She grinned. “It’s a habit because I was raised not to waste food.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“Some paper to take notes on. We ran out at home.” She laughed, more softly than he had. “I took so many notes from those books you lent me, I had to write some on my bedroom wall.”
Were the Johnsons so poor they couldn’t even afford paper? The oil lamp and outhouse at her place told him they didn’t have electricity or plumbing. One of the reasons he’d chosen to meet here was to give her plenty of electric light to work by.
How could she laugh at such grim circumstances? No wonder she’d thrown oysters in someone’s face. He might have done the same thing in her shoes. Why had he been born white from a successful father while she’d been born poor? Was it up to a toss of dice in the heavens? Sometimes life made less sense than the business books.
And she was willing to work all day and night to earn money for her family and better herself. The woman definitely had more to admire than generous curves and an intelligent mind. Whatever happened, he vowed to treat her well. Shouldn’t that be more important than saving his family’s company?
“Paper, coming right up.” He snatched a pad of it from a shelf and handed it to her. “Anything else?”
When she nibbled the pink eraser on the end of her pencil, he pictured something else, pink and round, in her mouth instead. He thrust his hands into his pockets.
“Yes,” she replied, staring at his crotch. “Keep that thing out of my sight so I can concentrate.”
He chuckled again, realizing he hadn’t laughed much since Caleb had put him in charge here. The woman was more refreshing than a strong sea breeze.
“Good idea.” He headed to the door and grabbed his jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“To the dock for a while, so you can
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley