It was barely noon, but the July sun had already turned the air thick and heavy, the kind of heat that clung to skin and made everything move a little slower.
Claire was two weeks into helping Henry around his place, scrubbing down patio furniture, organizing tools in his garage, wiping the dust off windows he never bothered to open. It was supposed to be a simple favor for her dad. Henry played poker with him on Thursday nights, and when he'd mentioned needing help around the house this summer, Claire's name had come up.
She hadn't minded. After her second year of college, she needed a break--needed something mindless. And Henry... well, he wasn't bad company.
Today, she'd shown up in a white tank top and skimpy blue cotton shorts that barely covered her ass when she bent over. Her yellow bikini top peeked through the thin fabric of her shirt, and she didn't miss the way Henry's eyes had tracked her when she walked in, lingering just a little too long on her hips, her chest.
She said nothing. Just smiled. Let him look.
Henry was thirty-six, single, and entirely too easy to look at--broad chest, sun-browned skin, a strong jaw covered in just the right amount of stubble. His gruff quietness had intrigued her since day one, and she liked the way his green eyes flicked over her like he was trying not to think about her too much. But she knew he did.
Now she was on her knees in the living room, scrubbing at a stubborn stain in the hardwood floor. She could feel the heat of his gaze from behind as he stood in the doorway, watching.
"You're gonna ruin your back like that," Henry said, voice deep and smooth, like honey over gravel.
She glanced over her shoulder, flashing him a smirk. "You offering to show me a better position?"
There was a beat of silence, long enough to make her pulse skip.
"Maybe," he said, and when she looked up at him fully, his eyes weren't soft anymore. They were dark. Focused.
She stood slowly, wiping her hands on the rag, tank top clinging to her skin from sweat. Her ponytail bounced as she turned, facing him.
"You always stare like that," she said, stepping closer, her voice soft and teasing, "or is it just when I wear these shorts?"
She stopped just in front of him, close enough that he could smell the sunscreen on her skin, the hint of coconut and sweat. Claire planted her hands on her hips, fingers casually grazing the waistband of her tiny blue shorts, thumbs slipping just beneath the elastic as her gaze flicked up to meet his.
"If these are such a problem," she said, voice low and playful, "I could take them off. Work in my little bikini bottoms instead--would that be easier for you, Henry?"
Her tone was pure tease, but her eyes were watching him carefully--waiting for the crack in his composure.
Henry's jaw tightened. He didn't move, but his gaze dropped, trailing over her tan thighs, the strip of yellow bikini just barely visible through her tank. His chest rose with a slow, controlled breath, like he was trying to keep something caged.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Claire," he said, voice thick with restraint.
She tilted her head, ponytail swaying, her thumbs still hooked on the waistband like a threat she might actually follow through on.
"Maybe I like dangerous."
Henry's eyes lingered on the way her fingers toyed with the waistband of her shorts, her hips cocked in a way that made it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.
But then his jaw tensed. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and sharp, like gravel dragged across steel.
"Finish what you're doing," he said. "I'm not paying you to tease me all day."
The words hit her like a splash of ice water.
Claire blinked, the smirk slipping from her lips. Her hands dropped from her hips, her jaw tightening just a little as she straightened up.
She wasn't used to that. Boys at school tripped over themselves when she so much as glanced at them. Professors gave her extensions just for flashing a smile. She'd never had a man--especially one who looked at her like that--talk to her like she was just some kid playing dress-up.
"You don't have to be an asshole about it," she muttered, turning back toward the bucket, grabbing the rag a little too aggressively.
Henry didn't respond, but she felt his eyes on her. Still watching. Still affected. That edge in his voice hadn't been indifference, it had been control. Strained, heated, barely there control. And that? That made her want to push even harderClaire didn't say another word. Just turned back around, dropping to her knees and scrubbing at the floor again, her movements sharper now, her jaw set. The only sound in the room was the rag against the wood and the occasional drip of water from the sponge.
But she felt him.
Henry didn't leave. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with that same hard, unreadable gaze. Not soft. Not apologetic. Just there, heavy and hot on her skin like the summer air itself.
He wanted her. She knew it.
And tonight... was poker night.
That meant Henry would be at her house. Sitting at the same dining room table as her dad, maybe a few beers deep, his guard down.
She'd make sure of it.
When she finally finished wiping down the floor, she wrung out the rag and stood up slowly, deliberately, letting her hips sway just a little as she walked toward him. He hadn't moved. Not an inch.
"Done for today," she said lightly, brushing her hands on the hem of her shorts. "Where's my pay?"
Without a word, Henry reached into his wallet and pulled out the cash, holding it out. Claire took it--but instead of just grabbing it and leaving, she stepped in close. Too close.
She rose up on her toes, warm lips brushing his stubbled cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. Her hand rested lightly on his chest for balance, fingers splayed over the heat of him.
Then she pulled back just enough to look up at him with wide, innocent eyes that didn't match the smirk ghosting her lips.
"Sorry if I came off a little... much earlier," she said, sweet as sugar. "Didn't mean to."
Her smile widened just a little at the way his jaw clenched, green eyes locked on hers like he couldn't decide whether to push her away or drag her against him.
But he did neither.
She stepped back, slipping the cash into her waistband.
"See you tonight, Henry," she said softly, already halfway out the door.
And just like that, Claire was gone--heart racing, mind spinning, already planning exactly how she'd make him break tonight.
