“Sorry.” I hold up my hands. “But why didn’t you ask to borrow it? I would’ve given it to you.”
Her expression is guarded and defensive, and I’m not sure why. Sometimes I feel like there’s this invisible filter between us, taking my words and transforming their meaning to Tessa, and I have no idea how to remove it.
“Just so you can tease me or something?” she asks quietly.
I tilt my head. “Tease you for what, exactly?”
She turns her back toward me and starts fussing with her ponytail. “Forget I mentioned anything.”
“Just tell me. You brought it to my parents’ house. What if they see you reading and ask me about it?”
She says nothing, so I wait patiently.
“Ismuggfullwithsewing,” she mutters.
Catching maybe two words, I give her acome onlook.
Tessa pauses and takes a deep breath. “I struggle with sewing.”
I’m floored. “But you went to fashion school.”
She yanks her suitcase open again, pulling a pair of linen pants out. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
I place my hand on her lower arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised.”
Tessa stares at my hand with an unreadable expression. I can’t tell if she’s uncomfortable, so I remove it and place it in my lap.
“I took Foundational Sewing, but they mainly focused on chip machines. And the instructor was a Lamont-level critiquer. I want to learn…” She trails off, before stiffening her back. “Iwilllearn how to sew more skillfully. Good designers know how,” she announces with determination.
I open my mouth to tell her I’d be happy to teach her, but she speaks before I can.
“Anyway, I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s move on.”
Tessa faces me this time as she sidesteps toward the dresser. In an attempt to step over my knees, she gets stuck and fallsdirectly into my lap, straddling me, face to face. Her hands dangle at her sides as she attempts to get up, then stops. Tries again without putting her hands on me, but all of her efforts are just amounting to her grinding on my cock.Fuck. Flexing my fingers to give them something to do other than instinctively palming her ass and pressing her against my chest, I wonder why neither of us have moved.
Finally, she plants her hands on my upper thighs for leverage and squirms to get up.
Pressure starts to build, curling low in my stomach. I can’t take this anymore. Before I come in my pants like a teenager, I pluck her up by the waist and plop her on the other side of me.
“There.” I remove my hands.
Her eyes widen. “Whoa. You lifted me like it was nothing.”
I smirk at the flush climbing up her neck. “Itwasnothing. I could lift two of you.”
She coughs. “I’m going to go to the… bathroom. Well. Bye,” she stumbles, scurrying out of the room, resembling Giuseppe when he sees a ravioli.
Chuckling to myself, I stand up and follow her down the hallway, the bathroom door slamming in my face. I didn’t get a chance to discuss our plans for today, and I don’t want her to wonder where I went when she’s done washing up.
A muffled “Why did you follow me?” comes through the door.
“I just wanted to tell you that I promised Mamma I’d fix one of the dining room chairs. When you come out, that’s where I’ll be if you need me.”
“Thanks,” she replies, “but I don’t think I’ll need you.”
I wince and turn around. As I walk to the kitchen, I allow myself to imagine what it would feel like to beneededby Tessa.
Chapter 20
