“He had taken a chance last night when he went to Hazel’s house. He rolled his shoulders at the uncomfortable weight of not confessing the truth. The idea for her to design his house was strictly for his benefit. Yes, he saw how it could help Hazel, but his motives were still selfish as hell. Something moved in the corner of his vision. Hazel was striding up the beach in the distance. Her stride had a rhythm now. The spandex material hugged her thighs and hips and, even with the light jacket she... wore, he could see her breasts rise up and down. He swallowed. And that’s why I feel like a shit. He wanted her in his bed. They’d talked last night for a few hours, and her wit and intelligence had shone through the topics they picked—politics, classic books, and men who felt the need to not shave. As she neared the porch he could see the smile spreading over her face. His heart thumped in his chest, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her like he’d wanted to last night.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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