“Fuck!” I tossed a piece of wood across the room, glaring at it as it bounced off the wall.

For the past two days, I’d been trying to build the boat I’d been hired to build, but I hadn’t gotten beyond the basic shell. None of the extras I’d been commissioned to do were coming out right. I could see what I wanted to do in my head, but it wasn’t reaching my hands.

I didn’t get it. I’d always been able to create what I saw, whether it was with wood or metal. The first time I’d picked up a knife and a piece of wood, I’d known it was what I was meant to do. To create. My brothers had skills in academic areas, but my abilities were in the way my hands could make what I thought up. It was the only thing I’d really been good at, and if I didn’t have it, I didn’t know who I was.

I sighed as I walked across the room to pick up the wood. I did get it actually. It wasn’t hard to figure out that I’d started having issues yesterday afternoon when I’d tried to work on the scrollwork. Unlike on Sunday when I’d been caught in the rhythmic monotony of sanding, my brain couldn’t turn off with scrollwork. Which meant the distractions were more noticeable.

One distraction actually. Named Brea Chaise.

What had I been thinking, asking her over for dinner? Acting like we were on a date? Fucking her on my kitchen counter?

We hadn’t really talked after we’d finished. We’d cleaned up, then she’d thanked me for ‘a wonderful evening,’ and then she’d left. She seemed fine, but maybe I wasn’t the best judge of that since I didn’t usually talk to women much after sex. I was the one who generally left after a thank you.

She was beautiful, and sex with her had been as good as I’d imagined it when I’d first seen her, but neither of those things explained why I couldn’t get her out of my head. I’d never had a problem with it before. I met someone, we fucked, we went our own separate ways, and I was good until the itch struck again. That’s how it went.

Then again, it wasn’t like things had progressed normally from moment one with us. We’d started with conflict, then progressed to a date, then sex. Why that should’ve made her stick in my head, I didn’t know.

Thinking about her in the shower while I was beating off, that made sense. Why would I want to think about some nameless, faceless woman when I could remember what it’d been like inside her? Waking up with a hard-on after dreaming about her, that made sense too.

But why was I thinking about how she’d made me smile? Or how it’d been nice to eat with someone instead of by myself?

Usually, when I was around someone else, I couldn’t wait for them to be gone, but with Brea, I hadn’t wanted her to go. Even after we’d had sex, I’d been tempted to ask her to stay longer. Sure, I’d wanted to fuck her again, but it hadn’t been just about sex. It’d been about how being around her had made me feel.

Only now, I wasn’t sure I wanted it anymore.

I liked keeping things simple. Even when my work was intricate, it didn’t complicate my life. I took the jobs I wanted to take, set my own deadlines. I could work extra if I wanted or take a day off – not that I did that often. If I invited someone into my life, it would mean having to work around them and their needs, because I wouldn’t want to do anything half-assed. Feelings would have to be taken into consideration. Then there was what would happen if things went wrong. All those negative emotions.

I’d lost enough people in my life. I didn’t need to add another to the list. I’d been able to avoid romantic entanglements for twenty-eight years. One night with Brea wasn’t going to change that.

Except I couldn’t stop thinking about her, which meant I couldn’t concentrate on my work, and that was unacceptable.

I needed to get her out of my head, or I’d never get my work done.

I didn’t have a choice.

I was sweaty and frustrated, which was probably not the best way to be doing this, but I couldn’t wait. I pulled into the parking spot closest to the front door and went inside. A quick look around told me that Brea was the only person in the store, and she was staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open. I locked the door and flipped the sign over to closed.

“Blake?”

I crossed the space between us in only a few strides, not giving her the chance to say anything else before I was kissing her. I tasted honey on her tongue, but I knew that wasn’t the only reason the kiss was sweet. It was her, plain and simple.

I felt her sigh, and then her hands clutched the front of my shirt, telling me that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to get the other night out of their head. After a minute, I broke the kiss and looked down at her. She must have read the question in my eyes because she answered me without needing me to ask it.

“Back here.” She took my hand and pulled me after her through another door.

I had a moment to register that we were in some sort of workroom, and then she was kissing me again. Her hands tugged at my shirt, nails scratching at my skin, and I knew that she wanted me naked. I wanted her naked too, and I wasn’t feeling any more patient today than I had been the other night.

I yanked open her shirt, scattering buttons, and then pulled down her bra. I bent my head to suck on one of her nipples, and she cursed, her back arching. I could’ve spent hours sucking and biting her, listening to all the sounds she’d make. I wanted to go down on her until she begged for relief.

But we didn’t have the time.

I straightened and spun her around, bending her over the nearby table. I pulled up the back of her skirt and tugged down her underwear. She shifted her legs, allowing the panties to fall to her feet, then parted her legs. I rolled on a condom, put my hand on the small of her back, and paused.

“Say the word.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

I wanted to slam into her, but she wasn’t ready for that. We’d had less foreplay now than we had at my house, and she’d been almost painfully tight then. There was a difference between some pain to increase pleasure, and real pain caused by impatience.

I eased the tip inside, reaching beneath her to find her clit. Her head dropped as I pushed forward, my fingers quickly moving back and forth across that little bundle of nerves. By the time I was all the way inside her, she was slick with arousal and pushing back against me. I gave her a few seconds, and then my weak self-control broke. If she told me to stop, I would, but without that, I wasn’t going to hold back.

I drove into her, going from almost completely withdrawn to balls deep, and I knew I wasn’t going to last very long. She was too hot, too perfect, like her pussy had been made just for me. Like she was mine, and all I needed to do was claim her. She tightened around me, moaning my name, begging for more. With other women, I might’ve wondered if they were acting, but with Brea, I knew it was real. There was nothing fake about her.

A drop of sweat trickled down my temple, but I didn’t wipe it away. I didn’t want to let go of the grip I had on her hips, didn’t want to lose the pace that was rushing me toward release. I needed this. I had to get her out of my head, and this was the only way to do it. The only way I’d be able to get back to normal. And I needed things to be normal.

Damn, she was gorgeous. Smooth skin. Strong. Confident. Self-aware. I’d been with beautiful women before, but Brea was in a class all on her own.

One of her hands moved off the table to grab one of her breasts. She pinched the nipple before I could knock her hand away. There was something better than grabbing her hips, and I had it in the palm of my hand right now. I rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb.

“Mine,” I growled, pinching the sensitive flesh. She let out a small cry, arching her back to push her breast deeper into my hand. “Got that? Mine.”

She nodded, “Yes. Yes. Yours. Please.”

I flicked my thumb across her nipple, knowing that the callouses on my hands had to be rough against her sensitive skin. Judging by her “yes, yes, fuck, yes” that she kept repeating, she liked it all. The way I was pounding into her, how tightly I held her with one hand, how the other played with her breast.

The pressure was building in me too much, too fast, and I couldn’t stop it. My heart thudded loudly in my ears, drowning out everything, isolating me in a world that narrowed down to what my body was doing to hers. My hips jerked as I slammed into her once, twice, and then stayed, coming so hard that my vision went white.

I must’ve stayed there, curled over her back, cock still inside her, for a good half minute before I realized that she hadn’t come.

“Shit,” I said as I straightened. “You didn’t come.”

She started saying something about how it didn’t matter, but I was already moving to fix it. I went to my knees even as I pulled off the condom and set it on the floor. I’d take care of it as soon as I’d gotten her off. I was positioning myself between her and the table before she realized what I was doing.

“Blake, you don’t need–ahh!”

Whatever words she’d intended to use to finish that sentence disappeared into a strangled yell when I buried my face between her legs. I kept a firm grasp on her ass and put my tongue to work. While I’d never been more than a one-night stand kind of guy, I wasn’t always about the quickie. I couldn’t drag this out, but I didn’t need to. She was close. I could hear her panting, feel her muscles trembling.

I slid a finger into her pussy, getting it nice and wet, then moved it out and up until I found the other entrance. We hadn’t talked about it, but I didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d tell me no if she didn’t want it. As the tip of my finger traced that muscle, not only did she not tell me to stop, but she gasped out two words.

“Fuck yes.”

I latched onto her clit and pushed my finger into her ass, and that was all it took for her to explode with a scream.

I kept her there until her knees gave out, and then I caught her and lowered her to the floor next to me, pulling her over to lean against me.

After a strangely comfortable stretch of silence, she spoke, “A bit of warning next time.”

I shifted so we could look at each other. I really hoped she wasn’t regretting what we’d done or felt like I’d pushed her into it. “What do you mean?”

“That was amazing,” she said, smiling at me, “but I’d really like to make it to a bed sometime. Or at least a couch.”

She wasn’t asking for a commitment, or even another date, but talking about there being a next time brought it all rushing back to me. I’d done this to get her out of my system, but I still wanted more.

My plan had backfired. Wonderful.