A/N: This one's Sandor's POV and things definitely get steamier!

Chapter 8

Sandor ended the call, his hand trembling a little as he put the phone back in his pocket.

The Little Bird was on her way.

After three interminable days, he was going to see the beautiful girl who had him tied up in all sort of knots again.

Fuck! Getting hit by a sledgehammer wouldn't have had as much of an impact on him as his first sight of the redhead behind the counter of the café. He didn't even know that girls as gorgeous as that even existed outside of his television screen. With her creamy skin, blue eyes that rivalled the summer skies and that fiery mane of hair, he was just glad that he had kept his tool belt on when he left the site that morning. The weight of it effectively hid the instant boner he got when he saw her.

A boner that disappeared the moment she looked at him and spilled the drink she had all over the place. Of course she would be shocked and disgusted by the sight of his face. While the surgeries had prevented him from looking like some sort of Freddy Krueger, his face was still not pretty to look at. He sighed mentally at the realisation that he had no chance in hell with this beauty.

Despite that, he couldn't help himself from going back the next day. It was like he had become instantly addicted and he needed his 'fix'. When he put his hands on her to stop her falling, the feel of her skin raced through his blood like a shot of pure heroin. It was all he could do stop himself from throwing her over his shoulder and racing off so he could have his wicked way with her.

He found out her name that day, though the nickname he gave her stuck. She talked non-stop, due to nerves, no doubt. He was feeling irritated that his presence made her so nervous when he named her 'Little Bird'. And yet, when she hardly spoke the next time he saw her, he missed her chirping.

After that, she would smile at him when he came in, and always looked him in the eyes. This impressed Sandor as many people looked past him when they spoke to him as if looking at his scars would bring up the unwanted elephant in the room.

Even when she didn't serve him, she always looked up from where she was to smile at him. And it took his breath away, every time.

Then it dawned on Sandor that the Little Bird was flirting with him. Not in the overt way her friend did with the customers, but with much more subtlety.

For a few mornings, he stood outside the café, just out of sight but still able to see Sansa, to see if she was that way with all the customers. She would smile politely at all of them but the smile he got was brighter, sunnier.

It made him feel a funny sort of ache in his chest.

The day he found her sprawled on the footpath in front of his worksite was the day it clicked that somehow, despite the seeming improbability of it, the Little Bird was interested in him.

He couldn't fathom why. Sure, he was well built. His job, as well as regular workouts ensured that his body was attractive. The infrequent flings he had with women showed that they weren't disappointed with it, despite his face. How could someone that looked like she should be in movies possibly be interested in someone that looked like him?

Seeing Sansa on the pavement, and the way she deflected his questions about what she was doing out the front of the very renovation he was working on was so damned cute that he wanted to kiss her senseless. And he couldn't deny it was flattering. The fact that she was sweet to his dog and made him laugh out loud with her less-than-subtle questioning of his sexuality and relationship status just made the crush he had on the girl even stronger.

And he couldn't prove it, but he suspected the number she gave him was her personal one. He was tempted to ring it with some sort of excuse, but he held back. He wasn't ready for the disappointment he'd feel if he was wrong, so he left it.

Yet, he often felt her eyes on him, eyeing him off as he did her. He couldn't help it. She was irresistible. As she would prepare his coffee his eyes would stray to her breasts, modestly covered in t-shirts that couldn't hide their shape and he itched to touch them, see how they fit in his hands.

Everything about her turned him on. He'd spent himself in his own hand more since he'd known her than he had in the previous year. He wasn't sure if the callouses on his hand were from the wood he worked on or the amount he jerked himself off to thoughts of the Little Bird, he chuckled to himself.

And then he saw her in nothing but a bikini. It took all of his will power to prevent his cock from standing to proud attention the instant he saw her. Frantic thoughts of stabbing himself with a nail gun, eating a mouthful of wood shavings, even kissing Bronn, was required.

Fuck, but she was gorgeous! Even her toes were cute. Luckily, his sunglasses hid the way his eyes roved over that endless span of silky skin. Sandor could not remember wanting a woman this much, ever.

After touching her back during her choking fit, he had no choice but to get in the water before she saw exactly what she was doing to him. It helped – a bit. He needed freezing water, in this instance, and even then...

Despite all his good intentions, he couldn't stop himself from offering to put cream on her back. It was like a dream come true. To be so close, to touch her, to breathe her in, to feel the warmth of her. There was no helping him now. He had to discreetly adjust himself in an attempt to disguise the bulge tenting his shorts, even using his towel under the guise of wiping his hands.

Just when he thought his day could not get any better, despite the ache in his loins, she touched his scars, told him she didn't think he was ugly and was so goddamned sweet and genuine in her empathy, and he was lost.

Sandor determined then and there that Sansa would be his.

And then buggering disaster happened!

The heavy rain and storms caused the upstairs of the renovation to leak, ruining weeks of work, seeing as how much of the wood had not been sealed yet. As he couldn't work up there until the roofing contractors fixed the problem, and it wasn't practicable to do anything downstairs, he spent the last three days working with Bronn.

And missing Sansa.

After their day at the Baths, he couldn't wait to see her again but the rain put paid to that. Bronn teased him endlessly about being love-sick until Sandor threatened to shoot him with his nail gun.

Once back at the Balmain site, he had planned to go to the café but a call from a supplier advising that they couldn't give him an accurate delivery time due to a backlog of deliveries, meant he couldn't leave the worksite as he was the only person there that day. He was tempted to punch a wall in frustration.

Her number! He could get her to come to him. Pulling out his wallet, he flicked through the contents until he found her card. He briefly hesitated but he couldn't wait any more. He needed to see her. And she had offered.

When her sweet voice answered, the ache bloomed in his chest again. He couldn't help smiling as she spoke. She advised him that she would be there within the hour, due to the number of customers in the shop. He was willing to wait until hell froze over, frankly.

Sandor attempted to do something productive while he waited for his Little Bird, but it was no use. After nearly sawing a piece of timber incorrectly for the second time, he gave up. His head couldn't think of anything but that Sansa was on her way here.

"Hello? Sandor?"

Heart thumping in anticipation, Sandor made his way down the stairs, stopping on the bottom step. Sansa was standing just inside the doorway, holding the coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. She was facing away from him, looking at the work being done on the property, the sun shining through the large windows lighting her hair with a fiery aura.

Instead of the usual t-shirt and pants she wore at work, she was wearing a low-cut navy tank top paired with a short, silky, navy and white flowered skirt, the type that would sway seductively as she walked.

Calm down boy, he ordered his wayward cock.

"Little Bird," he replied, noting her slight jump at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, hey Sandor!" she smiled back at him. "I'm sorry it took so long to get here, but we had a bit of a last minute lunch rush."

"No worries, Little Bird," he replied. "You're doing me a favour, coming out here."

"The croissants are especially flaky today," Sansa informed him, holding up the bag.

"Thanks. I look forward to them." Seeing her look around with interest, he asked, "Do you want to see what I've been doing to the place?"

Sansa nodded eagerly. "I'd love that!"

"Here, let's put this in the kitchen then I'll show you the rest," he said, taking the coffee and bag from her hands.

Walking towards the rear of the property and placing the food on the shiny new kitchen bench, Sandor then led her back through the terrace house, showing her the work he had done and what still needed to be completed.

"Careful at the top here, Little Bird," he warned her as they reached the top of the stairs. "The floor's a bit warped from all the water that leaked through." Reaching out, he took her hand as he guided her past the affected floorboards.

Looking down, he could see her slender fingers engulfed by his. He purposely didn't let go and when she didn't pull away, he tightened his hold slightly as he led her from room to room, swelling a little with pride when she commented on some of his handiwork.

He took her to the front room, the main bedroom, and showed her the detailed window and door frames he had crafted to highlight the view. It wasn't yet safe to go onto the balcony so they stood at the windows, neither speaking.

Being with her, alone, the sun shining through the front windows, Sandor felt like he was in a bubble. A bubble he didn't ever want to burst. Her hand sent tingles up and down his arm and he couldn't help his thumb from gently stroking the skin of her fingers.

Hearing Sansa's swift, soft intake of breath, he looked down at her, noting how the navy strap of her top and bra made her skin look even creamier, with a faint golden glow from the sun. From his height, he could see down the valley between her breasts, a hint of navy lace peeking out. He could breathe in her lemony scent.

When she turned her face to his, close enough that he felt her breath on his skin, he lost all restraint.

Only a saint would be able to resist such temptation.

And Sandor was no saint.

Leaning down, he covered her lips with his, a soft growl rumbling in his throat. That initial touch set off an explosion of sensations that travelled from the point of contact right through his body to his already eager cock.

At first, Sandor just gently rubbed his mouth on hers, savouring the taste of the soft pillows of her lips until he felt Sansa's eager response.

He felt, more than heard, the soft moan that left Sansa's mouth, her lips opening up as her tongue darted out to taste his. It was like lighting the wick to a tinder box – for both of them.

Taking hold of her waist, he pulled Sansa's body to his before wrapping his arms around her. To his delight, hers encircled his neck, the difference in height meaning their bodies were pressed intimately close.

Sandor could not hold back any longer, now that Sansa had given her tacit permission, and proceeded to ravage her mouth in passionate desperation. Lips, tongues and even teeth clashed, drinking thirstily of the other, as if parched.

One of Sansa's hands reached up and took hold of his face, her soft skin caressing his scarred cheek while the other roamed over his shoulder and the nape of his neck.

Needing her even closer, Sandor buried his hand in her glorious hair, a distant part of his brain marvelling at the silkiness of it, holding her still while he kissed her even harder. He wanted to devour her, make her a part of him, lose himself in her.

As their lips danced frantically, his other hand began wandering downwards, fingers tracing over the dips and hollows of her waist in urgent strokes before moving over her arse, squeezing and grasping the material-covered flesh, her soft whimpers egging him on.

Without conscious thought, Sandor led Sansa backwards until she was pressed up against the wall by his large body. The feel of her soft breasts squashed by his chest drove him insane. Only the sensation of her bare skin would be better.

When Sandor pressed his aching erection into her, Sansa pulled her lips from his and gasped loudly before closing her eyes again with a low, sexy moan. Using this opportunity, Sandor's lips travelled down to her throat, his tongue tracing erotic circles on the sensitive skin below her ear before taking the lobe in his mouth and sucking on it gently.

"Sandor!" she breathed. "Oh god!"

"Fuck!" he replied throatily. "You taste so good." As it to prove his words, his mouth continued on a downward path, nipping at the skin of her collarbone before moving to tongue the hollow at the base of her throat.

In response, Sansa pressed her body even harder to his, hands now buried in his hair, his hair tie long gone, and her hips moving insistently from side to side, grinding on his cock that was now desperate to be inside her.

"Little Bird!" he gasped as one her hands suddenly took hold of his cock, stroking him over the material of his work shorts. Sensation after sensation rocketed through him. If she touched his bare skin now, he would probably come all over her hand, he was that wound up.

The hand he had been massaging her arse with moved lower, to the edge of her skirt, savouring the smoothness of her leg for the first time. Sansa moaned and lifted that leg to wrap around his, wordlessly urging him on. Not needing a second invitation, Sandor's hand moved upwards, caressing and grasping the silken skin until his fingers encountered the elastic of her underwear. With one less layer of material, he clutched at her arse, almost unable to distinguish between the silk of her underpants or that of her skin.

"Touch me," she demanded as she took hold of his good ear between her teeth.

Such a demanding little bird, he grinned to himself. Loathe to disobey, his finger snaked under her pants and touched her cunny for the first time.

He wasn't sure who groaned the loudest.

She was already so wet! His finger slid easily over her plump lower lips, the softest skin he'd ever touched, gently parting them to stroke slowly back and forth before reaching her swollen clit.

"Ohhh!" moaned Sansa, as his finger lazily circled the bud so that her body jerked each time he pressed on it.

"Shit, Little Bird!" he growled into her throat. "I need to fuck you so badly. Let me have you," he almost begged.

"Yes! Oh, yes!" she whimpered. "Sandor, please."

Elation racing through him, Sandor pulled down Sansa's top and bra cup, exposing and palming one rose-tipped breast. Like a man starved, he licked his way down, taking the hardened nipple into his mouth and suckling as if his life depended on it. He couldn't remember tasting anything better.

Lost in Sansa, he almost didn't notice when her hand moved under his shirt, stroking his skin as it moved over the ripples of his stomach muscles, edging towards his waistband.

It almost became too much and if he didn't fuck her now, he was going to disgrace himself like a green teenage boy.

His mouth once again devouring hers as his hands fumbled at the waistband of her underwear to rid her of the unwanted material, they were oblivious to the world around them.

It was the loud screeching of a truck's air-brakes right outside the building that roused them both from the passion-filled bubble they were in.

Sandor lifted his head to look out, his mind in a complete erotic haze, and saw the delivery truck pull to a stop.

"Fuck!"

"What? What's the matter?" asked Sansa, looking as dazed as he felt, her hair and clothes in complete disarray, her breast begging for his mouth.

Sandor groaned as his head slumped onto her shoulder, panting like he'd just run a marathon. "The delivery I'm waiting on. It's here."

In a panic, Sansa pushed him back. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she tried to straighten herself up, pulling her bra and top back up. Sandor could have cried at the loss. Instead, he helped her, brushing down her skirt before tidying his own clothes.

Looking down, the bulge in his shorts was straining the material as he attempted to 'rearrange' himself. Fuck, he'd have to hurry and get rid of this hard-on before the delivery guy came in. Amid his musings, he heard Sansa giggle.

"Find it funny, do you?" he growled, amusement in his gaze. She took his breath away. All mussed up, cheeks flushed and the bare hint of red marks on her delicious neck. Marks he'd made with his beard and mouth. "Women don't have this trouble," he grumbled.

"We have enough of our own," she remarked with a grin before reaching up and stroking his cheek.

Sandor covered her hand with his and pressed into it. "I'm sorry, Little Bird. I didn't expect this to happen."

"Don't be, Sandor," she replied. "I'm glad it did. I've wanted this since I first saw you."

Sandor's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding!"

She shook her head. "No. Ask Margaery if you don't believe me." Leaning up, she kissed him softly.

The sound of the truck's crane unloading Sandor's order reminded them that their time alone was coming to an end. For now.

"I still want you, Little Bird," he whispered.

"And I still want you, Sandor. Come over to my place this evening?" she asked him.

Sandor nodded. "I'll come over after I've cleaned up and seen to Stranger."

"I can't wait."

"Me neither, Little Bird. Me neither."

A/N: No more teasing next time!