Page 26 of Erotic Temptations 2

He motioned to the boxes. “Bet you can. Bring the coffee. We’ll tackle the puzzle in there.”

The bedroom was bigger than mine by a mile. The window was open a crack, letting in chilled rain-scented air. It made my skin prickle.

Mattress was in the center, sheets rumpled, one pillow. His clothes were piled in a laundry basket. Kane’s scent filled the air, clean, musky, with a hit of whatever he’d showered with before I arrived.

Bed frame parts sprawled over the carpet. Chrome. Real wood slats. Kane knelt among the pieces, reading directions with a furrowed brow, which was almost unfairly sexy.

“Just so you know,” I announced, “there’s a fifty percent chance we’ll have two leftover bolts and a bed that can’t legally hold weight.”

He laughed, short and sharp. “That’s what the floor is for.”

Kneeling beside him, I studied the instructions while trying not to become dizzy from his scent. He handed me a plastic baggie of hardware, his fingers grazing my palm.

Not an accident.

My pulse quickened.

Kane grabbed the end of the frame box. “Ready?”

“Define ready.” I bent down, fingers gripping the cardboard. Fuck, it was heavy. My muscles protested instantly, but I didn’t quit. Kane barely seemed to notice the weight. He dragged it into the middle of the room, eyes on me the whole time.

He wasn’t even winded, while I needed a nap.

Screws went through the wrong holes twice, and the cross-support bar fell and nearly broke my ankle, but Kane steadied the slats while I tried to align things with a screwdriver.

He smelled amazing, and every time he braced the frame or reached over my shoulder, his forearm flexed a little, close enough that I wanted to taste it.

The bed wasn’t easy. Every time I leaned down, my shirt rode up. Kane didn’t miss once, eyes tracking the waistband of my jeans, but he never commented. There was just a hint of heat in the air, which I tried not to choke on.

I managed to wedge my hand between two frame pieces and immediately flinched, shaking it out. “Ow!”

“Careful.” Kane reached over and laced his fingers around my wrist on a warm grip. He checked for redness, then brushed his thumb across my knuckles. “Gotta be gentle with yourself.”

Words failed me, which was a truly embarrassing twist. This was flirting. I was almost positive. My body couldn’t decide if it should run or launch itself at him.

At one point, I tried to help him slot the side rail into place. Metal bracket, then bolt. My hands shook, and the thing slipped, which would have been embarrassing except Kane slid in behind me, reached around, and steadied my grip.

His hand covered mine. His breath hit my nape, warm and sweet from the coffee.

He didn’t pull back.

“Twist it here and hold.” His lips brushed my ear, just enough to make me forget what I was supposed to be doing.

Somehow, the rail snapped in perfectly. He left his fingers on my wrist a beat longer than necessary.

I straightened and immediately smashed my knee into a box. “Definitely not an engineer,” I muttered.

Kane’s laugh rolled out, deep and rich. “You’re doing fine.”

Next came slats. Those were easier. Just slot-and-click. The mattress, though, was a full two-person lift.

Kane flipped it with one arm, then reached for the far corner. Our hands collided at the same spot, fingers tangling. He squeezed, not letting go.

“That end’s heavier,” he said, which was untrue, but it made me grin.

Finally, with the bed set, Kane dropped down and patted the mattress. “Looks good enough to sleep on now.”

He looked up at me, then patted the spot beside him.