WIP Excerpt - New Adult Title (2)

Every once in a while, I post an excerpt from my current Work In Progress--just to give you guys a little insight into my upcoming projects. This week's excerpt is from my New Adult title.

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He’s so distracting. His arms are all raised, and his shoulders are all broad, and he’s fixing crap, and it’s just...just...annoying.

I pry my eyes off his back and force my feet to the stove where I throw vegetables into a pan, grab a wooden spoon, and ignore his close proximity.

My body hums.

I ignore that too.

He’s unscrewing the cover of the fire alarm and his arm moves with the motion. Why does he have so many muscles in his forearm? That can’t be healthy.

I drop my eyes to the pan and focus on bell peppers. Because bell peppers are interesting and they don’t have forearm muscles or backs the size of Alaska.

The forearm muscles that I’m not thinking about brush against my shoulder and we both freeze.

Awk-ward.

I casually turn down the heat on the stove like that’s the reason I’m suddenly sweating and go back to stirring. Levi goes back to screwing.

Bell peppers.

I’m thinking about bell peppers.

Then his arm brushes against me again, but this time it’s not my shoulder that feels the friction, it’s my breast. My body goes wild like I’m some love-starved teenager and the stove gets hotter and now I’m having trouble breathing and suddenly even the bell peppers look sexy.

I see his Adam’s apple bob with a nervous swallow, which can only mean one thing. The boob brush was an accident.

Well crap.

If he had been trying to cop a feel with his hulkish forearm, I could have responded with some kind of snarky “you’re a pervert” comment. But it wasn’t on purpose and somehow that makes it sexier and now my body’s all awake and why the HELL is this stove so hot?

He lowers his arms for a moment, his eyes still on the alarm, and stretches his neck.

Ah, the neck stretch. Then universal sign of stress. Well at least I’m not alone in my misery. My hot, distracting, pants-are-so-inconvenient misery.

He keeps stretching his neck and now I can’t look away because he has muscles in his NECK, dammit, and they’re looking at me with all their muscle-like hotness and I’m looking back and—screw the veggies.

I toss the wooden spoon to the side, move back to the ingredients list, and stare at it with great interest like I don’t know what goes into a spinach and cheese omelet. 

I'm never going to survive the summer.

***


Thanks for reading, guys. :)  Have a great week!