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I press my mouth to her damp hair and hold her while our breathing slows. By the time she shifts again, I’ve softened enough that my cock slips free. We both shudder as we separate, and I look down between her legs. A warm streak of my cum drips out of her onto the floor.
Goldie loosens her legs but keeps them hooked around me. Her cheek stays against my shoulder, and her fingers drift lazily over the short hair at the back of my head.
“I still don’t know what we’re doing,” she says quietly.
I pull back enough to see her face. “We don’t have to figure it out right now.”
Her eyes search mine. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I know where I stand.” I run my thumb over the warm skin above her hip. “And I know what I want. Take whatever time you need with the rest. Just know I’m yours.”
She goes still against me.
“You make that sound really simple.”
“It is for me.”
She blinks and looks down between us for a second before a small smile pulls at her lips. “Show-off.”
I slide my hand behind her neck and kiss her.
She opens for me, tightening her arms around my shoulders. I hold her close and take my time with her mouth until she starts smiling against mine.
“I seriously need a shower,” she murmurs.
“I need to finish your AC.”
“Yes, you do.”
She pulls her underwear back into place, then uncrosses her ankles and lowers her legs. I put my hands on her hips while she slides off the island, my fingertips skimming across her stomach on the way down.
Her legs wobble when her feet hit the floor, and she catches herself by grabbing my biceps.
“Whoa.”
I steady her. “Want me to carry you?”
She takes a second, shifts her weight from one foot to the other, then looks up at me. “Tempting.”
My hands slide around her waist. “That sounded like a yes.”
She laughs and gives my chest a shove. “I can walk.”
She heads down the hallway toward the bathroom, naked except for the scrap of fabric between her legs. My eyes stay glued to her until she disappears through the doorway.
Jesus Christ.
Apparently one orgasm barely took the edge off because my dick twitches all over again.
Following her sounds a hell of a lot better than crawling back into that oven-like utility closet, especially when I know she’s about to get slippery and wet. The kitchen is still hot enough to make sweat roll down my spine, though, and she’ll be miserable all over again the second she gets out if I don’t fix it.
That gives me plenty of motivation to finish fast.
I tuck my dick back into my underwear, fasten my jeans, and buckle the tool belt around my waist again. I disinfect the counter and the floor, then I get back into the closet and finish clearing the clog from the condensate line. I reconnect the section I opened, secure the access panel, restore power, and set the thermostat back to cool.
The air handler starts up. I wait under the kitchen vent as the air blowing against my skin gradually turns colder.
There we go.
