“Come on,” I say, sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her in. “Dance with me, Boo!”
“Why?” she asks, amusement evident in her voice, throwing me back to the shipyard, to when I was so in love with a girl I thought I could never have.
“Because I asked you to.” I smile while I sway with her, feeling her arms come around my neck, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
“Are you an oven?” I ask, and her eyes narrow as they search mine. I know she’s waiting for me to say something ridiculous, and she’s not wrong. “Because you’re so hot, you make my dough rise.”
She laughs softly over the music, the lyrics floating around us, but I slow our movement even more, turning it into something softer, a slow dance despite the tempo.
“Always gotta be dramatic, don’t you?” she murmurs, her voice teasing but her eyes warm.
“Only when it’s you,” I reply as I press my forehead to hers.
I close my eyes, feeling her warmth, feeling everything that she is, and while our bodies sway gently, my heart thunders in my chest. Lowering my head, I capture her lips with mine, the kiss deep and unhurried. She sighs into it, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of my neck, and I think about how this—right here, dancing in her garage with a grease-streaked nose and neck to eighties music—this is everything.
Slowly, I pull away just enough to look at her, my lips brushing against hers as I speak. “Sweet dreams are made of this, Boo.”
“Who am I to disagree?” she whispers back, her lips curving into a smile before she gives me a quick peck.
When the song ends, I take her by the hand, guiding her to the customer’s couch. Sitting down, I pull her onto my lap so she straddles my waist, her hands resting on my shoulders as she smiles down at me. I can’t help but smile, my fingers reaching up to trace her cheekbone, which is greasy now.
“Come here,” I murmur, cupping the back of her neck and bringing her down to me. Our lips meet again, this time with more urgency. Her hands slide up to frame my face, her thumbs brushing over my jawline as the kiss deepens, and I lose myself in her—completely, utterly.
She shifts in my lap, and I groan softly, my hands tightening on her waist as I pull her closer. The taste of her, the feel of her, the warmth of her body pressing against mine—it’s overwhelming, intoxicating.
She breaks the kiss, her forehead resting against mine as we catch our breath. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen and curved into a soft smile. “We’re supposed to be working, you know.”
“True,” I grin, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. “What will we do when the boss catches us?”
“You’re such a dork,” she teases, but her smile widens as she leans in, kissing me again, slow and tender.
My hands slip under the hem of her shirt, my fingers grazing the warm skin of her back. Sloan shivers at the contact, her breath hitching as I start to lift the fabric, inch by inch. She pulls back just enough to let me tug it over her head.
Her shirt falls to the floor, and my hands move to her sides, feeling the smooth skin beneath my fingertips as I trail my hands up over her ribs. Her eyes never leave mine as she reaches for the hem of my shirt, mirroring my movements.
The moment my shirt is free, her lips on mine, her body warm and soft against me, skin on skin, and everything inside me tingles. I kiss her deeper, more urgently, my hands sliding up her back, feeling the curve of her spine, the way she arches into me like she needs this as badly as I do.
My fingers find the clasp of her bra, and I hesitate, pulling back to meet her gaze. She nods, her smile soft, and I unhook it, letting the straps fall from her shoulders. Sloan shrugs it off, tossing it aside, and I take her in—truly look at her, drinking in every detail. She’s perfect, every fucking inch of her.
“Saylor,” she whispers, her voice like a plea, and it’s enough to snap me out of my daze. I meet her eyes, and her smile urges me on as she leans in to kiss me again, her fingers threading into my hair, pulling me closer.
My hands are already moving, slipping onto her hips, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans, and she shivers, her breath hitching against my lips. I can’t hold back. I kiss her neck,her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, my hands working with a kind of desperation to open her jeans, to push them down her hips.
Every second without her is too long, and I need her—now.
She shifts, helping me, and soon they’re on the floor, and she’s in nothing but her panties, back to straddling my lap. My hands roam her body, feeling every curve, every line as if I need to memorize her all over again. She’s everything—my everything.
Her forehead comes to rest against mine again as we catch our breath, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat slow, syncing with mine.
“I love you,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear it, and it makes my chest tighten with emotion.
Reaching up, my hand glides to her neck, my fingers brushing against the gold necklace there. My necklace. I turn it, rubbing my thumb over the engraved name. The sight of her wearing it, of her keeping me so close to her heart, it means so fucking much.
She looks at me, her eyes shimmering with love, and the way the light catches her just right, highlighting the softness of her skinand the slight flush of her cheeks,takes my breath away. It makes me want to stop time, to take in every inch of her beauty, to remember this moment forever.
Slowly, I set her on the couch, her brows furrowing in confusion. She tilts her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
I don’t answer right away, walking over to the garage entry and locking the door. No one’s coming in this early anyway, but better safe than sorry. Then I turn back to her, grabbing my camera from the gear bag. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she starts laughing, shaking her head. “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
