Alaric
Irolled up to the shop around seven o’clock, and I was surprised to see only Gwen’s car parked in the lot. Pulling up close to the shop door, I killed the ignition and watched her for a moment, moving around in the office, turning on lights, unaware of my eyes tracking her.
If she was the first to arrive, then the shop wasn’t open yet. I’d have to go in through the office. Exhaling, I grabbed my welding helmet and opened the door. Catching movement in her peripheral, Gwen looked up.
The bell dinged when I opened it, and Gwen moved toward me with purpose. “Alaric,” she said, her gaze sliding slowly from my face to my body.
“Gwen,” I replied, my lips twitching into a smile. I lifted my chin, my brows furrowing. “Is the shop open yet?”
“Not yet,” she replied, moving toward me purposefully. She stopped in front me and looked up, a smirk dancing on her painted lips. “You’re the first to arrive.”
The urge to wrap my fist around the thick braid over her shoulder, drag her to me and kiss her was staggering.
“Come over tonight,” I murmured.
“And why would I do that?” she challenged, her eyes betraying her.
“Because you want to.” I shrugged. “And I want you to.”
She inhaled sharply and bit her lip, holding back a smile. “Fine.”
“I’ll text you,” I said, moving closer to her. Overcome with the need to claim her mouth, I’d forgotten all the reasons why I shouldn’t. Damn the consequences.
I looked over, spotting her father through the office doors as he spoke to Mitch in the parking lot. All he had to do was turn, and he’d see how close we were standing.
She nodded, and I slipped through the shop door. The last thing I heard was the sound of her heels clicking as she walked back into the office.
I headed to my workstation and set my welding helmet on the bench, taking a moment to refocus. Distractions could be dangerous on the job, and I had a lot of cutting to do.
Cracking my knuckles, I pulled my helmet over my face and got to work.
* * *
Hell-bent on finishingthe support beams, I ended up staying later than I intended. I lost track of time, and when I looked at my phone after finally setting my welding gun down, my stomach lurched when I realized it was past nine.
Texting Gwen to let her know I was just finishing up, I pulled off my coveralls and hung it on the hook by my workbench. I cleaned up my workstation and locked up the shop, leaving through the office and locking the connecting door on my way through.
I could see the top of her head when I walked past the front desk. She looked up when I came through, and I slowed, everything stilling when she smiled. She set her pen down and closed the notebook she’d been writing in, and I swallowed hard.
“Where’s Russell?”
She stood, turning out her lamp and sliding the notebook into her purse. “He left a couple of hours ago,” she replied, turning to me and flashing a mischievous grin.
Gwen bit her lip, her gaze heating beneath my leisurely perusal of her body. I moved toward her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts.
I leaned forward, my lips meeting hers softly at first, until she pressed herself against me, running her hands along my jaw. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and my hands dropped to her ass as the kiss deepened.
Breathless, she pulled away. Shaking her head, she watched me with fascination.
“What?” I asked, breathing heavily, just as affected.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head and biting down on her bottom lip as she moved closer. Her breath fanned out against my lips, and I breathed her in, everything shifting and realigning. Around Gwen, everything meant more. I felt deeper, saw clearer, felt steadier.
She was gravity.
But before I could form a coherent follow-up thought, Gwen’s lips were back on mine, her hands tugging at my belt, her warm palms slipping against my torso and sliding down until they wrapped around my cock.
My right hand tangled in her hair while I dropped my left one to her breast, kneading it, running my calloused fingers over the sensitive bud of her nipple. The thin material of her blouse did nothing to conceal it, and I let out a tortured groan. “Gwen…”
