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After a while, she typed on her phone and showed it to him. “I’ll order us some food.”
Pushing himself up, he rubbed his five o’clock shadow. “Long as I’m paying for it, Mistress.”
She arched a brow, but graciously nodded. As he pulled on his slacks, she took his dress shirt and shrugged into it. She buttoned three of the middle buttons before taking off the bra beneath it, sliding it free through one of the sleeves. Wearing his shirt with nothing under it and only a few buttons done up, he could see random glimpses of a lot of intriguing things as she moved.
“You wear that look for long, you’re going to have me ready for another go.”
She smiled a very female smile and tilted her head toward her command center. He sat on the stool next to her chair, her elbow propped on his thigh as they decided together what they wanted for dinner.
They went for simple, a pizza loaded with veggies. She seemed surprised he was good with that, but he shrugged. “I like vegetables.”
While they were waiting, she pointed him to her guest bathroom to do whatever cleanup he wanted while she went to the master. After retrieving his change of clothes from the truck and smoking a quick cigarette, he came back and cleaned up, donning the jeans and T-shirt. He’d tucked the suit rack into the bag, so he put the slacks and jacket on that, hanging it on a bathroom hook.
When he emerged, the dress shirt was on the doorknob, so he added that to the suit rack. While she’d looked damn goodwearing that, he’d almost prefer seeing her in one of his T-shirts. Something with more of his scent on it.
Yeah, he was aware it was a primal male marking thing, but he had no problem with that side of himself.
She’d changed into a pink T-shirt over pajama pants, printed with white fluffy-looking llamas. If the word adorable slipped out of his mouth, he’d get a strip taken off his ass, but he suspected there was no way to avoid it.
Unless he focused above her waist. The loose movement of her breasts under the thin shirt, the jut of her nipples, was absolutely a good distraction from the shitty parts of today. Even the bottoms, clingy and soft, offered the tantalizing shift of her buttocks.
An astute glance told him she was aware of his attention, but as long as he didn’t get caught too often, she might let the ogling pass.
When her security cam announced the pizza guy, she headed for the lift.Oh hell no.He waved her back. “I told you I’m paying. That includes the tip.”
Plus he was the only male getting that view. At least for tonight.
They ate the pizza on the sectional, surfing TV channels, her sitting with one leg drawn up under her. When she was done, she invited him to make himself comfortable, because she needed to do some work.
Though he’d sure thought about it, he hadn’t assumed the offer to stay over included sharing her bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman for more than the time that it took to have sex and share a cigarette or drink afterward. Over time, his relationship needs had narrowed to what he got at Club Progeny. Casual sex was covered by the occasional hookup at MC get-togethers or a bikerbar. More social stuff was covered by the garage, bike rallies and extracurricular events Progeny offered.
She didn’t seem concerned about having him here while she was working. With the kind of day it had been, him dozing off was expected. The surprise was how easily he was pulled into a much deeper sleep. When he surfaced with an uneasy feeling, the silence was the same, but he wasn’t in his own bed, giving him a spike of anxiety until he realized where he was.
She was still sitting at the computer, hands moving with smooth grace over the mouse, touching the three screens, making notes on a tablet. A blanket covered him, a bed pillow under his head, another behind his back. It embarrassed him, her taking care of him, but it also kind of touched him.
Rising, he padded over to her. As he circled the tables and approached her from behind, he saw she was working on the program layout from the art show, doing graphic design stuff to a series of pictures in the middle screen. On the left monitor, a trio of pics caught his attention because the center one was Skye sitting on the edge of his platform, her hand on his leg, gazing up at him as he looked at her.
A casual look would see a woman at a man’s feet, and all that could imply. But looking at her face and his own, he saw all the nuances that said otherwise.
As well as some even deeper things.
A dip of her chin to her shoulder told him she was aware of his presence. She pointed to the stool. She hadn’t pushed it away when she started working, suggesting she’d left it there for if he woke and wanted to join her. That touched him, too. He’d been thinking of grabbing a quick smoke outside, but he put off the craving and sat down at her side.
Since TRA had been a sponsor of the event, their company logo, a purple, black and silver rose coupled with the New Orleans fleur-de-lis, was on one of the design pages.
When they’d given him his garage logo concept, he’d been initially uncertain about the purple accents. His crew had enthusiastically endorsed the logo, though, Larry getting it on the garage truck as soon as Tiger said okay.
Looking at the TRA logo now, Tiger wondered if the similar color choices had been a subtle brand of ownership. A way of saying the TRA Mistresses had put their mark on him. No matter who he chose at the club, he was one of theirs. He would always be part of their family.
To a guy who’d had to turn his back on his own, that message was valued.
He enjoyed sitting in silence next to Skye as she worked, looking at the other “art” he hadn’t been able to view while a canvas himself. Like the girl whose torso had been painted blue and layered with tropical flowers. In the picture he was studying, she had her hair piled on top of her head, her hands holding it up and back arched as the female artist worked on her.
His attention moved to the satisfied smile and intent gaze of the airbrush artist who’d turned a junk car into a horse-drawn chariot. Tiger made a note to tell Larry to visit the corporate centers where those cars were on public display. He handled a lot of the garage’s requests for airbrush work.
Skye was clipping additional stills from the drone footage to add to the professional photographers’ work. She slid the prints between screens, trying them out, tweaking the quality with a mind-boggling number of layout buttons.
“Is this what you always wanted to do?” he asked. “Or is it what you landed on because it paid the bills?”
