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“And you wonder why I’ve never updated the flooring until now,” I explain to Adrian as he chuckles softly. “My house looks like a fucking disaster.”
Moe grabs the last of the tile, scooping it into the trash bin while Finlay cleans up the tools lying haphazardly on the floor. They both head into the garage and Adrian leans in close to my ear, the music now silent. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He moves my hand to cup the growing bulge in his pants, and there’s nothing I can do about the ache that pulses between my legs.
“You need me to go to the shop with you, boss?” Moe pokes his head through the garage door and Adrian moves away, my hand releasing his cock.
“No,” Adrian says rather dismissively, causing Moe to look between us before he disappears.
Once he hears the garage door close, he turns to me and says, “Come with me?”
“Come with you to dump off my old carpet?” I laugh. “That sounds riveting.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he says with raised eyebrows and lust filled eyes.
“I need a shower,” I protest. “I feel like I have a layer of century old tile on my skin.”
“You can take a shower at my place,” Adrian counters, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“Am I taking you away from something else?” he asks hesitantly without mentioning my daughter, but I follow his gaze down the hall to where her room is.
“She has orchestra practice after school.” Looking at my kitchen, I make a note to text her to eat at Sofia’s tonight.
“Seeing as how my house is destroyed and the kitchen is useless…” I don’t finish my sentence.
“Let’s be honest, your kitchen was useless before,” Adrian teases, tilting his head at me boyishly.
“I’ll have you know that I have heated up many excellent take-out meals in that microwave.” I point to the kitchen. “Not to mention all the pots of coffee I’ve brewed.” I place my hands on my hips, daring him to contradict me.
Adrian's chest shakes while he laughs.
“You’re making fun of me,” I pout and stomp my foot.
“Are you coming? Or do I need to lift you over my shoulder again? Because you’re running out of excuses, Lake,” he says wickedly, causing my pulse to race.
Leaving him standing in the middle of my destroyed living room, I head back into my office and shut down my laptop. In my bedroom, I change into a new t-shirt and freshen up in my bathroom. Running a brush through my shoulder length hair, I part it to the side, letting the wavy strands sweep across my face. A thin layer of black eyeliner makes my blue eyes stand out against my dark hair. Dabbing a bit of perfume on my wrists and neck before leaving my room, I’m ready to leave.
Adrian waits in my living room with his phone to his ear. I watch as he runs a hand through his thick hair, removing the bandana that kept most of the dust from coating his dark locks. He smiles and switches from Romanian to English effortlessly, realizing he’s speaking with his dad.
Drinking in the sight of him, dirty and sweaty from the day's work, he has never looked more mouthwatering. He turns, catching me raking my eyes over him and grins before pocketing his phone.
Fully out of my trance, I clutch my purse under my arm and follow him out to the garage where I lock up.
Parked on the curb is his work truck, my old carpeting rolled up and secured in the back. Hesitating, I think about Noelle and what she will think if she sees me being dropped off by Adrian. She knows who he is, but she doesn't know who he is tome. I will have to cross that bridge when it comes.
Sensing I might be apprehensive, he gives me a comforting smile and opens the door. Sliding onto the ripped vinyl seat, my thighs burn because the truck has been parked in the afternoon sun all day. Lifting my thighs off the seat, I try and yank my shorts down further to cover more skin when Adrian removes his shirt, spreading it over the seat next to him, giving me and any neighbor that happens to be peering out their window an eyeful of all those hard muscles. He motions for me to move over so I can sit without burning my legs. The gesture causes my stomach to tighten and my chest to expand.
After he hops in the driver's seat and cranks over the engine, loud music blares from the speakers and he reaches over to turn it down.
“You just wanted an opportunity to take your shirt off,” I tease, and he laughs.
The old Chevy’s middle console is pushed up, and I slide next to him using the middle seat belt to buckle in. He chuckles while pulling out of my neighborhood, and I turn the volume back up on the radio.
Sneaking looks at him while he drives I study his profile, the way he grips the steering wheel, and how his hair flutters with the a/c. Being near him, I can’t help but want to touch him, to feel him touch me. By the time we hop on the loop 101 headed towards Tempe, his hand ghosts up my leg and casually rests on my thigh. I like the way he can’t help but touch me when he’s around me.
Cold air blasts through the vents cooling the cab of the truck, but it does nothing to cool my heated skin as his fingers skirt along the edge of my shorts. Closing my eyes, I let the feeling take over asBad Companyblares through the speakers.
Kicking off my flip flops, I prop a foot on the dash spreading my thighs, and Adrian shifts in his seat. It’s so easy to forget about work when I’m sitting in Adrian’s truck watching the mountains blur by and the sky turning different shades of pink and orange. It’s like stepping into a different person’s mind, one where I don’t have to worry about deadlines and people’s jobs.
