Anything in a Skirt

“Have you lost your mind?” Spencer demanded as he stormed up the stairs and onto the upper story of the building site.

His furious gaze immediately homed in on where Baxter stood, at a work bench on the far side of the room. As Spencer watched, the other man froze. Tape measure in hand, Baxter suddenly appeared to forget what measurements he was supposed to be marking out on the piece of board.

The metal tape measure slid back into its housing with a decisive click but Baxter still didn’t turn around.

Spencer had thought he was already as angry as it was possible for any man to be. He’d been wrong and he was cheerfully willing to be damned before he let his submissive keep his back to him for another moment. Striding across the half re-furbished bedroom, he wrapped his hand around Baxter’s arm and yanked the larger man away from the workbench. Heavy denim fabric flapped around Baxter’s legs as he was spun around.

“What the hell were you thinking, wearing that damn thing to work?” Spencer snapped, determinedly keeping his gaze up and focused on the taller man’s face.

Baxter shrugged. The extra layers of muscle he’d gained since they started working on the building site, shifted under his dust coated vest. Spencer ground his teeth together, determined not to look any further down his lover’s body than that!

“It’s a lot more practical than it looks,” Baxter babbled. “It’s cooler to work in, and—”

“Bollocks!”

There was no way in hell Baxter hadn’t realised that Spencer would spend the whole day hard, knowing his submissive was working upstairs wearing that bloody stupid contraption.

“I thought you’d approve.”

Baxter tried to turn around, to turn his back on Spencer yet again, but Spencer tightened his grip on the larger man’s arm until the well tanned skin beneath his fingertips turned white.

“What did you say?”

Baxter finally raised his gaze and looked Spencer in the eye for the first time that day. “You’ve always been happy to screw anything in a skirt, haven’t you?”