He lifts his head from my shoulder after pressing a kiss on it and looks down at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I could feel you thinking. You’ve stayed out of here much longer than I thought you would.”
“I thought it was private.”
A dimple forms on his cheek. “I’ve left the door open often enough to tempt you inside when I should have just invited you in. If it was private and I didn’t want you in here, I’d have closed it.”
“Oh.”
“I like to make things,” he explains.
“Things like what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever comes to mind. I go to salvage yards and find pieces of metal, melt them, and shape them into something new.”
My eyes return to the twisted bits of metal about two hands tall. “It’s beautiful. Are those wings?”
He nods. “It’s telling me it wants to be a dragonfly.”
I look at Wyatt. “Telling you?”
His cheeks flush a dull red. “I start melting and soldering with no idea what something will be. The longer I work on it, the more I know what it will turn into.”
He was so embarrassed to tell me that, but he did it anyway. That’s so sweet.
The metal dragonfly in creation draws my gaze again. “How long will it take you to finish?”
“Could be another month. Maybe two. Maybe longer than that. I won’t know until it’s done.”
“How’d you start? This doesn’t sound like a hobby anyone could pick up.”
“A guy I used to work with made toys for his kid. He showed me a couple. When I told him I was interested in learning how, he took me to his garage and showed me, and I stuck with it. I like to work on it for an hour or so every now and again.”
“What else have you made?”
“A fly. A beetle… uh, and a cat.”
“Do you still have them?” I ask, curious to see something finished.
Smiling, he shakes his head. “I travel way too much, and there’s not nearly enough room in my truck. I send all my finished pieces home. My dad has a shelf in his garage.”
“You don’t sell them?” I know nothing about sculpture, least of all how much it would sell for, but this dragonfly is so striking, I can’t help but think someone would pay a lot of money for it.
“I just make it for me. Never had any interest in selling what I make. How about I take you inside and we get cleaned up?” He makes a face as his eyes flick to the table. “We shouldn’t have done this on my table without me wiping it down first. How’s your back? Did you lie on anything sharp?”
“Nope. My back is okay, and yes to moving somewhere less hard, please.”
His lips twitch. “Less hard?”
My cheeks burn. “To lie on,” I say, perfectly aware of what I still have lodged inside me, though I do feel him starting to soften. “I don’t mind other hard things. Obviously.”
Laughing, he lifts me up and gives me a deep kiss. We leave our clothes on the floor, and he carries me into the house and right into the shower.
Slick skin, lingering caresses and confined quarters soon turn a quick shower into a slow, lazy fuck against the wall.
He kisses my throat soon after we’ve climaxed. “Can you stand, darlin’? Need to get you clean, and this hot water won’t last forever.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” I say, making him laugh.
My legs tremble when I stand, but I stay on my feet. Barely.
