“That’s up to you.” She didn’t want to discuss the appropriateness of her naked form in his living room. “This is a nice location. It’ll work, but the wall could really use a couple of spotlights. Especially in the evening when there is no natural light. We could get an electrician in here and Martin could come back later to install the painting.” He had a strange look on his face and shook his head.
“Suit yourself. Could you hold the end of this so I can get some measurements?”
His fingers grazed hers as he reached for the end of the tape and she pretended not to notice. Had he been someone else, the insubstantial contact never would have registered with her. Why did everything with him seem so magnetized? Larger than life? After jotting down the measurements, she took another sip of the mocha, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she felt the heat from his body right behind her.
“Where’s the other space?” she asked.
She turned and crystal blue eyes locked her in place. He ran a hungry gaze over her face, stopping at her mouth which burned in response. He reached up and flicked a thumb over her lips, then put it to his mouth.
“Whipped cream.” His voice was husky.
Her heart stuttered. She could hardly breathe.
Then she reminded herself that he was just playing with her. She needed to stay strong.
She grabbed her things, stepped away from him and repeated her question. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as if confirming her suspicions.
“This way.” He touched the back of her arm again, obviously not deterred by her reaction, and guided her down the hall. She was only vaguely aware of the colorful artwork on the walls and the humming of a washer and dryer behind one of the doors as her skin tingled from the contact.
At the end of the hallway stood a pair of ornately carved wood doors, grander than the others. He grasped both handles and swung them wide.
The room was completely dark. When he stepped forward and pressed a button on the wall, natural light flooded the room as flexible metal covers retracted from the windows.
His bedroom. He wanted the painting of her in here? Was this some kind of sick joke?
Her gaze rested on the unmade bed. Rather intimate to see his bare sheets still rumpled from the night. Had he gotten up, just in time for a shower, before she arrived? Were the sheets still warm? She shuffled the papers on the clipboard and fiddled with the tape measure.
With a flourish, Dom motioned her inside while he stayed at the door.He’s just a client,she repeated to herself as she brushed past, careful not to touch him. This was just a job.
The room was almost as big as the living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two of the walls. The glass met at the corner, no trim to spoil the view. With a motorized click, the metal blinds retracted into a narrow panel on both walls. She wasn’t aware of how she’d gotten over to the glass, but she was there now. From this vantage point facing northwest, she could see the mouth of the bay. A container ship was pulling into port. Was that Bainbridge Island up there?
To wake up to this every day. To open your eyes and see this.
She imagined sitting here with a cup of coffee in the morning. Or in the evening with a glass of wine. Was there a rooftop terrace to watch the sun as it set behind the Olympics?
The air shifted behind her. She whirled around, the mocha sloshing in her cup. She’d almost forgotten why she was here.
There he was, still barely clothed, still so damned hot and still with that smug smile that grated on her nerves.
But now they were in his bedroom.
Why couldn’t he just put on a shirt? Her fingers itched to splay over the defined muscles of his chest and she gripped her clipboard tighter. With his unshaven face, would his kisses sting her lips?
In the light she noticed the palest of shadows hovering under his half-hooded eyes, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
She glanced again at the tangled sheets, imagined a woman here, running down the hallway just hours ago, late for work in high heels and a wrinkled dress from the day before. They’d had sex all night long and he’d have slept longer if the painting wasn’t being delivered. Why did she care? Who was he to her? Just a casual hook-up. Why did the extracurricular activities of a player like Dom even matter to her?
With him standing so close, she could hardly trust herself to say anything coherent. She skittered away from him. His presence invaded her mind and muddled up her thoughts.
“What...where did you have in mind? I mean...for the painting. Where do you want it?” Everything sounded suggestive, and her cheeks burned again.
She tried to remain businesslike, but all she could see was that big damn bed right in front of her and the half-dressed man beside her. She tried to ignore the massive carved wood headboard that looked like it belonged in a castle, the lush golden silk duvet cover and the multitude of pillows tangled up in the sheets.
She shuffled her papers again, dropping her pen. As she stooped to pick it up, her eyes froze on the crotch of his jeans. She could see the outline of his length, level with her eyes, straining against the fabric. Could her face get any hotter?
Chewing on the inside of her lip, she rose quickly. Ever so slightly, his hips turned toward her and his stance widened. She felt warmth and a throbbing pulse between her legs.
What was happening to her? She stepped away and fanned her cheeks with the clipboard.
