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Sam Denning's hard-on was making his life hell.
Plumbing was never his favorite job. He was happiest working with wood, building something fresh and new and smooth. At the best of times, plumbing repairs were rarely fresh or beautiful. They were cold and smelly and involved mysterious substances whose exact makeup was generally best left unexamined. But while he'd rather be building a new deck or custom home, hammering and sawing and problem solving, he'd done enough plumbing in his more than ten years as a general contractor to acquit himself creditably enough with a pipe wrench and flux.
No, it wasn't the job that had him shifting his worn jeans and swearing wordlessly under his breath.
It was his job-mate that had his temperature soaring about ten degrees, slowly and inexorably melting his better judgment.
His job-mate, whose firm rounded ass swayed under the vanity in cabin twelve's three-piece bathroom, the line of her simple lace panties peeping over her jeans. She struggled to loosen the flex line and her T-shirt rode up, revealing the smooth, tanned crescent of her lower back, the dip of her spine a tempting valley, silently taunting him to press his lips there.
Of course, Sam didn't have to stay. When she'd called him earlier in the day asking to borrow a couple of tools, he could have dropped off his toolbox, invented an urgent appointment and got the hell out of Dodge. Lily was more than capable of repairing it without his dubious help. Hell, she was one of the most able and hands-on women he'd ever met.
But he hadn't left. Instead, for the last twenty minutes, she'd been effortlessly torturing him, as images of sinking to his knees behind her and grasping the ample flesh on display played over and over in his mind. He wanted to run his tongue between the smooth globes and fix his mouth between her legs and suck her until she trembled and rode his mouth to a screaming orgasm. He could almost feel the sensation of thrusting into her wet, welcoming body. His imagination surged. It was madness but his cock still raged in anticipation, tightening to the point of painful rigidity.
Breathing hard, dizzy with lust, he gripped the edge of the toilet tank and hung on. Because if he let go, he didn't think he could be held responsible for his actions. Not when he'd been entertaining variations on this particular fantasy with this particular partner since he was fourteen or so years old. The body parts changed, depending on the day, and he'd definitely filled in some important details his teenage self had been woefully ignorant of, but the focus of his attention never wavered.
Owner and operator of the Three Pines Lodge and Resort, an exclusive and wildly successful holiday camp on the shores of Lake Mississing, one of Muskoka's most sought after holiday destinations. His best friend. One of his most reliable clients. The object of his unrequited lust.
A small, dirty hand groped the air. "Pipe wrench?" When the tool wasn't forthcoming, there was a scrabble of activity underneath the sink as Lily reappeared and stood before him, wiping her hands on a nearby rag.
"Sam?" she asked, folding the cloth and setting it aside. "Have you got the long-handled pipe wrench?"
The look on her face told Sam she was waiting for his response. Unfortunately, his ability to verbalize seemed to have gone the same way as his blood, leaving him with a vocabulary that consisted mainly of inarticulate grunts and very short words.