#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

I t was Friday, and Vincent hadn’t seen Hilary all week, even though they shared the same address. They’d texted, though, and agreed to happy hour on her deck, with him bringing the drinks and her providing the food. Taking the stairs two at a time, he smiled at his own eagerness. Last week was great. Her enthusiasm for setting up the training program was contagious. Tonight, they would work on a proposal to present to Iris and Ali, to get KBS on board. And hopefully, they’d do some more kissing. He stopped himself from thinking beyond that. After all Hilary had been through, he did not want to rush her. His cock argued otherwise; thus Vincent started and ended each day with a cold shower.

He shifted the six-pack of beer and bottle of wine in his arms to rap on the door. No one answered. Glancing over to the driveway, he confirmed Hilary’s car and bicycle were both there. Through the windows of the French doors, he saw her purse and car keys sitting on the counter so he tried the doorknob. Unlocked, he pushed the door open and called, “Hey, you okay?”

“Not really. Can you come back here? ”

Dropping the booze on the table, he hustled to the bedroom, expecting more blood. The room was empty. “Hilary?”

Her voice came from the en suite bathroom. “In here.”

He peeked in to find her rooted to the floor, arms crossed over her chest, facing away from the door. Seeking her reflection in the mirror, he caught the disgusted look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“There was a huge-ass spider. It startled me, and I dropped my glass, which shattered on the floor. I can’t move because I’m afraid I’ll cut myself.”

“I’m thinking you should give up day drinking,” he said, taking in the broken glass and Hilary’s bare feet.

“It was a glass of water.”

“Maybe buy plastic stuff. You and glass don’t seem to get along.” He grinned at her growl of annoyance.

From his examination of the floor, his eyes moved upward and widened. She wore bright pink panties and a matching camisole. Nothing else. He swallowed. With clothes, she was hot. Without, she was dynamite. Long firm legs, tight rounded ass, flat belly, and toned arms. She may not have tits, but Hilary was sexy as hell.

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to help me?” Bright red dots sat high on her cheekbones.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, umm…give me a second.” He pulled off his T-shirt and placed it on the floor at the base of Hilary’s bed. Then he leaned into the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel from the rack. “I’m going to wipe down the backs of your legs in case there are any pieces of glass on them.” Glass crunched beneath him, and he was thankful to be wearing shoes. He crouched, and carefully ran the towel down the backs of her thighs and calves. She tightened at his touch, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. He spoke gently as he would to a wild animal, “Your legs look fine. I’m going to pick you up and put you on the end of the bed. We’ll do th e fronts of your legs, and then your feet.” He glanced up to catch her nod, then tossed the towel over his shoulder as he rose to stand next to her. A pulse beat rapidly in the hollow of her throat. He grinned at her reflection. “I promise not to drop you.” With one arm behind her knees and one arm around her shoulders, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He placed her down so her feet were above his T-shirt on the floor, and knelt in front of her. Her slim foot was silky smooth, and he concentrated on looking at the skin of her legs and feet, trying not to inhale the provocative scent emanating from the juncture of her thighs. “I didn’t know you were afraid of spiders.”

She huffed and crossed her arms again. “I’m not afraid. It startled me. Did I not mention it was a huge-ass spider? It had to be the size of a dinner plate.”

“Really?” He sat back on his heels, trying not to smile. “And what happened to it?”

“I don’t know.” She waved an arm in dismissal. “It probably scuttled back down the drain, laughing at me. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me scream.”

He picked up his T-shirt and wrapped the towel in it, chuckling as he stood. “I didn’t see any glass, but I’m going to shake these out over the garbage can and put them on the washing machine. Then I’ll grab the vacuum cleaner. Don’t move until I get back. There might be bits of glass in the carpet by the door.” Looking up, he caught her gaze on his chest and abs…and lower. He slowly straightened, not bothering to conceal the proof of his arousal.

The red spots were back in her cheeks. “Fine. I’ll be here.”

H ilary flopped back on the bed when Vincent left the room, then, when her heartrate returned to normal, she turned and crawled to the headboard. A noise from the doorway drew her attention. Vincent stood there, staring at her ass. He entered the room and placed a glass of wine on the bedside table. “I’ll umm…go get the vacuum,” he muttered and backed out of the room, continuing to look at her.

Did he just lick his lips?

Groaning in embarrassment, Hilary seated herself and gulped the wine. She grabbed the afghan from the bottom of the bed and draped it across her legs. This was not how she wanted the evening to go. She’d planned on wearing a nice dress, putting some makeup on, doing her hair, and looking presentable. Not greeting Vincent in her underwear, and then posing like she wanted Vincent to do her. Absently, she rubbed her scars, wincing slightly.

“Do they hurt?” Vincent leaned against the doorway, holding a beer in one hand and the vacuum cleaner in the other. Unfortunately, he’d taken the time to put on a fresh T-shirt.

“Not really. They feel a little tight. I’m supposed to massage them with Vitamin E oil.”

Tipping his chin at her, he placed his beer next to her glass of wine and plugged in the vacuum cleaner. A weird warmth went through her as she watched him meticulously clean the bedroom carpet—picking up the clothes she’d left on the floor in the process—then move on to do the bathroom floor. He didn’t frown, didn’t sigh heavily and make a big deal about it, just took care of her like he was happy to help. After finishing, he stepped into the bathroom and reappeared, holding a small bottle. “Is this it?” At her nod, he placed the bottle on the nightstand then stood back, looking down at the floor. “I’ll um, put the vacuum away,” he said, turning away.

“You can stay,” Hilary replied quickly. “It’s not like there’s anything to see.”

He gave her another chin tilt, but his lips were thinned. He moved around the bed, toed off his shoes, and settled beside her with his back against the pillows. She pulled the camisole up over her head and gasped when she felt warm skin against her belly. Whipping the fabric off so she could see again, she was face to face with a frozen Vincent, his arm extended, reaching for his beer. Her stomach tightened. He removed his arm.

Both of them were red-faced.

Other than the plastic surgeon, the nurses, and her douche of a husband, no one had seen her scars. Can he take it? No longer angry and red, the scars were thin, running from one armpit to the other, right where her nipples had been located. Vincent stared at them for a moment, then turned away. Obviously not. Hoping to hide her disappointment, she closed her eyes. Only to open them when she felt his arm move across her belly. He reached for the oil and settled back; his torso twisted toward her. “May I do it for you?”

She took in the softness in his eyes and the softness in his smile and nodded wordlessly.

Sitting up, he poured some oil into his hand. Again, he moved across her body, placing the bottle on her bedside table. Why didn’t he put it next to his beer, on the table on his side of the bed? He rubbed the oil into his hands and slowly reached out to touch the scar over her heart. She jerked. He pulled back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” She closed her eyes, lowered her head, then spoke in a rush, “No one has touched me there in almost a year. And that was for a follow-up appointment.”

“Okay,” He lifted her chin with one finger. “We’ll do this slowly.”

His hand moved toward her chest. While the scars had no feeling, the tissue around them did. The combination of his rough calluses and the slickness of the oil was magical. A tingle went through her that she’d thought she’d never feel again. A tingle leading from her missing nipples down to her core. She relaxed against the pillows and watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. He stroked from the center of her chest outward to her armpit. Then he sat up and moved a leg to the other side of her body, somehow managing to remove the afghan. Straddling her, his denim-clad legs pressed against her bare legs. “Is this okay?”

Words escaped her, so she nodded.

Both of his hands stroked her chest as he looked up and met her heated gaze. He smiled slowly and spread his fingers wide, encompassing more of her skin, stroking her belly as well. His hands moved up and out, thumbs dragging across the scars to her armpits, down her ribs, and back up again. The feeling was delicious, and she wanted him to experience it, too.

Her tongue darted out, and she licked her lips. “I um, saw you had a scar, just above your ribs. Do you want me to massage it?” Where the hell did that come from?

He pulled his shirt over his head in answer. Her eyes traveled over the expanse of his chest, up over his shoulders, and down his arms. The ridges of his stomach muscles and the dark hair arrowing down to his jeans captivated her. With a small amount of oil in her hands, it was her turn to explore his warm, velvety skin as he leaned into her touch. His eyes closed as he groaned out a sigh, then opened, and he held her gaze, smiling encouragingly. She grew bold and found his nipples. Small, tight, and dark against his bronze skin. He groaned again when she tweaked them. His head descended, and she watched his lips come toward hers. There was nothing tentative about the kiss. His lips were firm. When his tongue darted out, hers was there to welcome him. She shuddered at the contact and opened more. Not just her lips but her thighs. He repositioned himself. With her hands on his shoulders, she drew him down and felt his erection press against her center, the fabric of her panties drenching with the contact.

The denim of his jeans abraded the soft flesh of her inner thighs as he settled against her. He traced kisses across her jaw and down her neck to nuzzle her throat, lowering himself completely over her. Her head fell back, and she reveled in the feel of the hard body touching her, their skin sliding against each other in the slickness of the oil. Of their own volition, her hips rose, and she rubbed herself against his erection through his jeans. It had been too damn long. The heat and the friction sent flames shooting from her aching core throughout her body. She stiffened and clutched his shoulders, arching her back to press harder against him, then released a long groan of pleasure.

She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. He reached down between them and unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection to rub it against the wet fabric of her panties. Levering himself up until he was on his knees between her legs, he grasped his cock and watched her. Tentatively, she reached out. This, too, had been a long time. Her hand moved over his, and she learned his rhythm. His hand fell away as she stroked him from root to tip, watching the passion play across his face. Hot and hard, his cock felt like iron encased in silk. He strained against her, hands gripping her thighs, and she increased the tempo of her strokes until a stream of cum burst forth to paint her belly. The smell of sex and satisfaction filled the air, and he bent down to kiss her softly. Once. Twice. Then, once more.

With a quirk of the lips, he got off the bed and went to the bathroom. When he returned, his cock was tucked away, the button of his fly undone, and he held a warm, wet cloth in his hand. With gentle strokes, he cleaned off her belly, then placed soft kisses over her scars. He returned the cloth to the bathroom and came back to the bed to lie on his side and scoot close. Head propped up on one hand and the other splayed across her belly, he kissed her shoulder. She tilted her head toward him, meeting his satisfied smile with her own.

Having half-expected him to leave, she chewed the corner of her bottom lip, not knowing what to do next. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s been a long time and…”

He stroked her ribs lightly, and dipped a finger into her navel. “And what?”

She pressed lightly against her breastbone and then waved her hand in the air. “This isn’t what a man wants.”

“No?”

“No!” She now held her hands in front of her as if cupping a pair of breasts. “They want boobs that jiggle and nipples to suck on.”

His hand trailed up between her scars, stroked her collarbone, and cupped her chin. “Tits are nice, but they’re not what I want.” He leaned in and kissed her softly, flicking a tongue at the seam of her lips.

“What do you want?” she asked in a husky voice.

He lay back, pulling her with him until her head rested on his chest. His hand moved through the curls of her hair and down across her back. She didn’t want him to stop. “I want a woman who laughs, has a good ass, and lets me get to third base on the second date.”

She giggled. “Was that third base?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I played bedroom baseball.”

He laughed and squeezed her ass. “Is it too soon to try for home plate?”

His stomach growled before she could answer. Pulling herself away from his hold, she dropped a kiss on his chest, then climbed off the bed to head to the bathroom. “We can talk about it after I feed you.” She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, knowing he was watching her ass.

T hey sat at the table on the back deck, the remains of their meal in front of them. Vincent put his beer on the table and cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex. I don’t have any condoms. Do you have any?”

Leaning her elbows on the table, Hilary shook her head, smiling slightly. “No. The last time was with David, and that was more than two years ago.”

“If you’re on birth control…I’m clean…or I can go to the store and buy some.”

She placed one hand on her chest, unconsciously rubbing her scar. “I can’t have children. Something happened during chemo and…” She shrugged and looked away.

“Ahh.” He had no clue what to say, so he grabbed her chair and pulled it closer to his, then intertwined his hands with hers, pulling them in to kiss her on the knuckles. “You wanted kids?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. When we got married, David was a dentist building a new practice. I ran the business part of the practice, and we were super busy. We never really talked about having a child, just assumed that it would happen in time. But then I got sick…” She looked away and shook her head. “It was after the mastectomies and after the reconstructive surgery failed that we found out. And…it was too much for him. We separated shortly after.”

Separate. What a polite word for such a heartbreaking action . Aloud he said, “Did you consider adopting?”

“I suggested it, but David wasn’t interested in buying a baby.” She grimaced. “His words, not mine. So…”

“What a douche.”

Hilary barked out a surprised laugh. “David the douche. That’s a good description for him.”

Vincent squeezed her hands, glad to make her feel a bit better. But he could feel the tension in her and didn’t want the night to end with her thinking about her ex-husband. “Not only is he a douche, he’s a moron.”

Letting go of her hands, he shifted around to scoop her up and position her in his lap. He looped her arms around his neck, and stroked a finger across an eyebrow before sifting his hand through her hair. “I like everything about you. I like your smile, your laugh, your ideas, your cooking, even your bicycle.” He spoke softly, looking deep into her eyes, his other hand stroking up and down her back. When he felt the tension easing from her, he slid his hand over her bottom, stroking along her hip, up her belly, with the lightest touch. He rested his hand on her chest for a moment before moving it up and over her shoulder to stroke his thumb up her throat and across her bottom lip. Wanting to erase the wariness in her expression, he said, “There is nothing I would change about you.”

She pulled her hands apart, and she traced his shoulders with her fingertips, bringing her own thumbs down to flick his nipples. His eyes blazed as she nipped at his thumb. “The dishes can wait until later.”

He kissed her lightly. “Is that an invitation?”

At her nod, he stood and carried her into the house and to the bedroom.