Page 15 of The Secret
A faint trace of pink tints his cheeks as he briefly meets my gaze. Are his thoughts as X-rated as mine? I want to go back to where we were this morning, but Emma’s curious stare zips my mouth. His eyes flit over me, and he clears his throat and, turning to Brian, asks him what he was doing before he came out here. And I hold my breath. Brian was quiet when I first met him on the build. He was six months into his contract here managing volunteers, having ditched his life in the US, and all I know is that his wife died. But Brian skims over it all easily with Dan, and, as they talk, the promise of Dan burns all the way down my right side.
Later, when we’re in the back of the jeep heading back to the house, Dan’s long, tanned legs stretch out next to mine in the back seat, and I can hardly contain the impulse to place my hand on his thigh.
7
LISS
Saturday, January 19, 2019
Amakeshift set of raffia walls in the yard conceals a scoop and a rain barrel where we wash. A gap on one side faces the bush, but it’s high enough that you can only see a person’s head and shoulders. We only get to wash properly here once a week, one after another, when Alain from the village brings pumped water to replenish the collection tank. Three days after Dan’s arrival, on Saturday, when Emma comes back to the room grinning with the sheer pleasure of being clean, I head out. When I spot Dan’s blond head sticking out over the top of the walls, his towel slung over the raffia wall, I groan to myself. I don’t need to watch him shower. But my feet won’t carry me back inside, so I sink into a chair that’s been left out. He won’t take long, surely?
I’ve caught Dan watching me once or twice when I’ve been talking to Brian, and I’ve been careful to keep things appropriate. I don’t want to fawn over him like a puppy.
But as I sit down, I realize the seat gives me a perfect view through the gap in the fence where you enter. Fortunately, Dan’s head is down, but as I move to get him out of my line of sight, he strips off his shirt and shorts and picks up the scoop and pours water over his head. My mouth dries. The water streams down his torso causing the blond hair to clump and matt into darker whorls, his happy trail forming a sharp stripe down the middle of his body before disappearing into his boxers. The wet fabric clings to him, accentuating the long line of his cock. I lick my lips.Holy shit.
When he lifts his head and opens his eyes, he spots me.I can’t move now.
“Are you going to join me or carry on gawking? If we washed together, I’m sure we could save water,” he says, grinning as he lifts his chin.
Heat crawls up my throat into my cheeks. Ugh. Is this some kind of flirting revenge? God, I’m not sure I’ll survive. And where has my usual sass gone?
Dan laughs and shakes his head, droplets flying everywhere, and something thrums in the air like a thread pulled tight.
“Would you like a show?” He reaches for the soap and lathers the bar between his two large hands, rubbing it roughly down his arms and into his armpits as his forearms flex. I was right, he is muscled everywhere. Then he’s washing his chest and down his stomach, delving into his boxers as he washes his cock, which is quickly becoming hard.Jesus Christ.
“Fuck, that’s good. It would be even better if you were doing the soaping. Maybe if I was soaping you too?” As he laughs, it takes me back to three days ago on the veranda, the gleam in his eyes as he was as filthy as I was.
He scrubs down his legs, head dropping down as he turns away and pushes his boxers down and steps out of them. His ass is small, tight and perfect. I want to wrap my hand around one hard cheek as he’s over me, pushing inside. Everything swims for a couple of seconds, and I drag in a sharp breath, watching as he soaps himself in that way men do, roughly, getting into all the crevices with a wonderful familiarity that makes my palms itch.
Reaching into the wooden barrel, he grabs the ladle and pours water down his body, scoop after scoop. Soap streams down pooling and running into the brown, caked earth. His feet are broad and splayed as though they need to be to keep his large frame upright. The water runs in rivers down his torso creating patterns in the hair as he turns this way and that, tipping more over his head, and I can’t tear my eyes away from his cock. It’s perfect, half hard as he skims his hands over his skin, feeling for soap, throwing more water over his body. He bends down and picks up his boxers, his eyes meeting mine as he grabs the old striped towel and roughly towels himself off, wrapping it around his slim hips.
With a grin, a couple of steps bring him closer, until he’s a foot away, his gaze lazy as it wanders from my face to my feet. Everywhere it lands lights me on fire.
“Sorry you didn’t join me. Next time maybe?”
His hand lifts as if he’s going to touch me, but then he drops it and leans in, damp golden skin glistening a few inches away.
“Are you going to treat me to a show, too? I’d be happy to join you.” His lips curl. “What did you say about a flirting duel?” He tuts and his eyes roam my face and my mouth, as his hand comes out and moves a strand of hair out of my face. His eyes narrow. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”
I shake my head, mute. He’s too close. Too damn attractive. I’m not sure that starting this flirting game was such a great idea. I let out a long controlled breath as he walks off toward the hut, whistling.
* * *
Later, when we’re digging into plates of stewed meat with vegetables and rice, Dan leans over.
“Did you enjoy watching me wash?” he murmurs into my ear, taking an ample bite of the local bread Gloria makes. Seeing his teeth sink into the soft crumb, all I can imagine is them sinking into me.
A flush climbs up my cheeks. “You put on an excellent show,” I mumble.
He laughs, his mouth curling, the muscles working in his throat, the blond scruff disappearing down his neck into his checked shirt.
“Anytime you want to join me, be my guest,” he says.
8
DAN
Monday, January 21, 2019
