Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
I go back down to my heels and search his face. He’s gripping the counter, his knuckles white, and I shake my head. This man is so stubborn. There’s no doubt whatsoever he wants me, but he’s not giving in, and it makes me wonder again, who is Janet and what did she do to him?
I take a few steps back, and he lets out a breath. I laugh and tell him, “Okay, well, I guess I’m going to go out to the orchard and get started. Lots of pruning to do today.”
I get out the door and halfway to the orchard before it hits me. I’m pretty much harassing my boss. He says it’s not a good idea, and instead of giving up, I continue to put myself close to him, which I’m sure is a good way to get fired. Damn it. Now I’m going to have to apologize to him… again.
CHAPTER 8
ASHER
There’s no fuckin’ way I’m going to be able to resist her. That’s what’s going through my head as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. I barely get into my room and I have my sweatpants and underwear down my thighs and my hand wrapped around my girth. Precum is already oozing from my hard tip, and I know it won’t take long to find my release.
Talking to Madelyn and being this close to her is playing havoc on my whole system. There’s no way I can walk around the orchard with a hard-on all damn day, and I try to convince myself that this is the responsible thing to do, but I know I’m doing it purely for my own satisfaction.
I start to stroke myself from root to tip as I think about Madelyn. I have no trouble at all picturing her long red hair wrapped around my hand or how her long legs would feel wrapped around my waist.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the closed door. Images from this morning in her tiny T-shirt as she stretched to reach for a mug play over in my mind. It doesn’t take any time before I’m exploding in my hand. I keep jacking, thinking if I get it all out then it will cure me of these thoughts that I know I shouldn’t be having about my new employee. When I’ve completely exerted myself, I slump over and hope I can get past this and move on about my day without more thoughts of her.
I get cleaned up and ready for the day. I take my time in the home office, catching up on emails and returning phone calls. When I walk out to the orchard, I keep repeating to myself: She’s fourteen years younger than me. She’s an employee. She’s rich and she doesn’t belong here. She’ll make it a week, tops.
By the time I get heavily into the orchard, I realize that without even thinking about it, I’m going straight to where I know Madelyn will be working. I tell myself that I have a responsibility to make sure she’s doing things safely, but I’m a fool. I know exactly why I’m looking for her.
When I see her, I grab a pruning saw off the tool cart set up near her. If I’m going to make sure she’s doing things right, I might as well work.
I stop at the tree next to her and get to work. She breaks the silence first. “So you always come out here and work in the fields, or is it just because you want to make sure I’m not destroying your peach trees?”
I keep working with my eyes on the tree. “No, after yesterday, I figured out you know what you’re doing.”
“Well, well, well, is that a compliment, Mr. Wild?”
I grunt instead of answering.
She stops and turns, resting her hand holding the pruning shears on her hip. “Seriously, what are you doing out here?”
I keep working. “Last I checked, this was my farm. I thought I could go anywhere.”
She stands there for a few seconds before she gets back to work. We work together in silence for awhile, but it’s fine because it’s a comfortable silence. When I catch myself staring at her, I turn another direction and work at an angle so that she’s not in my sight.
She starts to talk. First, it’s random facts about peach trees. And then she starts talking about the different soils and approaches to keeping it healthy. I try to keep my guard up and stay aloof, but the more she talks, the more I start to open up to her. By lunchtime, she has me laughing openly, and I’m getting strange looks from the other workers.
“Are you going in for lunch?”
She pulls a protein bar from the zippered pouch at her waist. “I’m going to eat this. I have an extra. Do you want it?”