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She took the tie from his fingers and settled it against his torso, a chance to sneak a quick pat of the solid wall of muscle that made up his stomach. “Real men wear pink.”
He buttoned the jacket before shaking out his arms. She stood back a few feet from him and turned on a critical eye, taking in the parts that needed to be tailored. She knelt down and folded up the bottom of his left pant leg, catching sight of the metal that made up the bottom of the prosthetic, and pinned the material. Then she moved over to his right leg. When she finished with the hems, she skimmed her hands down over his knees and tugged on the pant legs, making sure they weren’t too tight.
On Mike’s audible intake of breath, Sam shifted back, looking up at him from her position on the floor, finding color high on his cheeks. With parted lips, he stared at her for a few moments longer, and her body responded to him automatically with goose bumps and flushed skin. When his fingers twitched next to his right thigh, she found her voice. “Are you okay?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry.”
She blinked to clear her mind then stood up. Back to business.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms to the wrists, tugging on them. “The jacket fits well. How does it feel?”
He flapped his arms up and down a few times. “Good.”
Her hands moved to the top of his pants. “What about here? Do they sit okay?”
Doing what she needed to do to test the fit, she hadn’t realized her fingers were tucked into the waist of his pants until she glanced up, his attention directed at said fingers.
With a mere two or three inches of space between them and her hands much too close to the noticeable bulge between his legs, Mike shook his head. “I need to figure something out. Because…” He glanced around the basement then back at her. “This ain’t cutting it.”
She lifted one shoulder. It was awkward, but what else could they do? “I don’t know. Do you think your mom would make us some pizza rolls?”
He growled and grabbed her ass, squeezing it hard enough that she let out a surprised little squeak. “You think this is funny? This little situation of ours?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “A little.”
He bent to drag his lips down her throat, pressing an openmouthed kiss over her jackhammering pulse. “I’m glad you find my misery so comical.”
She had trouble swallowing as he kissed across her jaw and pushed against her lower back, his length solid against her stomach. Heat coursed over her, and she thrust her hands into his hair, dragging his lips to hers so she could make her pleas into his mouth for more.
He stepped her backward against the nearest wall and took both of her wrists in one hand to hold them above her head. Her back arched into the roaming touch of his other palm, up her side and over her breast. When his thumb whispered over her nipple, she whimpered, and he gave her one last quick kiss before lifting his head, waiting until she opened her eyes to him.
He lifted his brow. “See? It’s not so funny when you’re interrupted, now is it?” He dropped her wrists. “You want to get ice cream?”
Her brain was too scrambled to comprehend anything. “Huh?”
With two steps back from her, he started taking off his suit jacket. “Ice cream. You want some?”
“After…” She licked her lips, still tasting him there, and pointed to the floor. “But what about…?”
“Yeah.” He had a glint in his eye as he turned away from her. “Sucks to be interrupted, doesn’t it? But if you’re so interested in pizza, I guess you could work something out with my mom.”
She threw her hands on her hips. “You tease!”
He clucked his tongue. “Just wait.”
Then he grabbed a hanger and hung up the jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Good god, she couldn’t wait.
* * *
Mike lookedover the list of flavors above him. The whirring sounds of the freezers and machines were oddly comforting. Ice cream on a hot day was exactly what he needed. Especially after the torturous twenty minutes he spent alone in the basement with Samantha. He had trouble focusing on anything other than the shape of her ass in that little flowered number, but when she got down on her knees in front of him…sweet baby Jesus, his mind went wild.
And he hated that he couldn’t give her more. His own place. It was so humiliating to bring her to his parents’ basement, and even though she said she didn’t care,hedid. It was one thing to swallow his pride and move in with his mother and father, but he didn’t know how much more he could take of his mom asking him about snacks while all he wanted to do was strip Samantha naked and tie her to his bed.
And when he finally had her pliant and moaning under his hands and mouth, he pulled away, all for the sake of what? Proving a point? Torturing her, like he was being tortured?
Now he had to walk around with the worst case of blue balls known to man.
“What are you thinking?” Samantha asked next to him, verbalizing the exact question knocking around in his head.
