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My body jumped as his voice boomed inside the small space, but it soon settled when I looked over and saw him leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. I picked up the stereo remote and shut off the music before pushing my aching body to its feet.
How long had I been sitting there?
“It’s not that bad,” I replied, poking my tongue out at him like a spoiled toddler.
He laughed. “You say as you stand on your little island surround by a sea of papers. You couldn’t have stacked them in a nice neat pile?”
I rolled my eyes and held my arms out wide. “I need to be able to see them all, so I know which designs I’ve already drawn, and then sometimes I can match some with others to make outfits or entire collections,” I rambled, explaining the method to my madness. “There’s a process I have to go through, you know.”
He held his palms up and leaned back. “Okay fashion Nazi, should I just go and leave you to it then.”
“No…” I grinned. I was happy to see him and feel his energy. The last few days had been hard, but I’d thrown myself into work, and that had held my focus for long enough. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I tiptoed over all my pictures, there must have been at least a hundred, give or take a few. I smiled in victory as I made it to the other side without disturbing too much of my mess.
He shrugged, but a smile filled his face. “Dunno. Saw Harlyn at the clubhouse. Op said she was staying there the night.”
My body buzzed, his words a subtle hint, but they sent shivers through me. I chewed on my lip as I took a step closer to him. “Yeah, needed the extra time to get this all sorted for my meeting tomorrow with the landlord of the building downtown.”
I swept my arm around the room. It wasn’t just the papers that had taken over, but also four clothing racks that held clothes I’d already designed or purchased from other women who had ambitions like mine and needed their work showcased to buyers. That and there was a station set up in the corner with my sewing machine and piles of material and threads.
“Looks like a sweatshop in here,” he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. How are you with a needle and thread? I could put you to work,” I joked, wiggling my eyebrows.
He pushed off the wall with his shoulder, stalking toward me with two large steps, not even pausing before bending and hooking his hands under my legs and lifting me up. I squealed in fright, wrapping my arms around his neck while my legs rounded his waist and held on tight as he turned and headed down the short hallway.
“Feel free to put me to work, but I had a different job in mind,” he whispered as he ducked inside my bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him. He dropped onto the edge of my bed, my body still clinging to his. Our faces were only a breath apart, our noses almost brushing against each other.
I skimmed my hand up the back of his neck, tugging on his cap and pulling it off his head, tossing it to the floor. “What did you have in mind exactly?” I asked as I brushed my fingers through his flat hair, fluffing it up.
His hands moved to my hips, holding me snug against him as his lips descended on mine. “This,” he murmured before our mouths met. It started out soft but I was needy, desperate to feel him around me, inside me, any fucking place I could have him. So far, sex had been off the cards, both of us content with touching, playing, creating maps of the other person’s body and committing them to memory.
Wrench was determined to hold off, telling me that when that came that it would be a time where we could lose ourselves within each other, and not have to worry about what time Harlyn would be home from school or whether someone would come looking for him.
I flattened my body against him, getting lost in his kisses and the way his hands trailed over my back and thighs—one moving one direction, one moving the other.
“Damn,” he growled, pulling back and inhaling a deep breath. His eyes drifted down, taking in my dress. I’d made it myself. It was cute and summery, a bright yellow flower pattern with buttons that ran the entire length from my breasts to the hem.
“This one of yours?” he asked, and I brightened.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“Is it easy to fix?”
I raised my brow and looked down. “What do you mean? It’s not—”
Both his hands reached for the hem, and I gasped as he tugged with what seemed to be little effort. The buttons began popping off, flying across the room as he pulled it wider and wider, until the last button that held it together just above my breasts pinged off to the side, hitting my vanity mirror.
I was exposed, my mouth hanging open as I stared down at what was left of one of my favorite summer dresses. “You just… I can’t…”
“I did, and you better believe it,” he said with a smug smile on his face.
Without giving me a second to reply, he stood up with me still hanging on him and turned, dumping me on my bed on top of the soft covers. I laid there, gaping up at him as he tossed his club cut onto the chair in the corner of my room and pulled his shirt over his head.
“Better close that pretty little mouth, gum drop, before I put something in it,” he told me as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward the edge of the bed.
My torn dress fell around my body and he hooked his fingers in my panties, gently pulling them down my legs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying across the room, his eyes continuing to hold mine, his cocky grin sending a thrill through my body.
