His hand froze.
“Might have to punish you for that.”
He swallowed. “Punish me, how?”
“Well…” I slid my hand beneath the covers, toward his cock. “I’ll just have to make you work for the good, hard fucking I know you want.”
He licked his lips. “Anything.”
“So willing.” I teased his erection with the pad of my thumb. “I think this is going to be a long night.”
He held my gaze, and his eyes asked, loud and clear, “Promise?”
Oh yes.
I kissed him again, pushing his lips apart with my tongue.
I promise.
Chapter Twenty-Two Nothing could interrupt a relatively quiet, uneventful morning, like an ominous “Oh…shit.”
It was Teagan who said it, which was never good. Especially not when she looked at me from across our respective partially completed rooftops. “Uh, Jon?”
The panic in her voice straightened my spine.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She eyed her model, then looked at me again. “We’ve got a problem.”
My heart quickened. “T, I’m on two balls-to-the-wall deadlines that I can barely handle without overtime.” I gestured at the pair of models I was working on, both of which had to be done soon. “What kind of problem?”
“That bottle of cement you’re using, is it from the case we just opened in the supply room?”
My heart beat faster. “Teagan…”
“Something’s wrong with it.”
“Eating or warping?” Please say eating. Please say eating. Please— “Warping. Bad.”
“Motherfucker.” I turned toward my projects. Sure enough, a corner I’d finished last night had begun to warp. On closer inspection, it wasn’t the only bad spot. If the glue had been eating through the foam-core, I could have patched it with epoxy, but warping was more complicated. It fucked up how two pieces fit together, which could throw off the whole damned thing. It was like putting a jigsaw puzzle together with a piece of debris stuck between two of the pieces. Or more than two, I realized as I looked over both models and saw just how many places had warped.
I glanced at the clock. It was ten fifteen, and I had to have both of these models in Marie’s office by three thirty. If push absolutely came to shove, I’d ask for an extension, but she wouldn’t be happy about it. Better to try to solve the problem and still get it in on time, which meant it was time to call in reinforcements.
“Cal, what are you working on right now?”
“Couple of drawings for Beelzebub,” he said.
“How long before you need to turn them in, and how close are you to finishing?”
“They’re due Friday, but I’ll have them done by the end of the day. Easily. Why?”
“Save them and get over here.” I flipped open a case of X-ACTO knives. “I need your help. And see if Silent Dave can spare an hour or two.”
Fortunately, Silent Dave was available too, and I put them both to work cutting foam-core and plastic according to each drawing’s specs. They weren’t modelers, but they were drafters, so I wasn’t worried about their ability to interpret the schematics and cut the pieces correctly. Everyone in the room knew this was a major problem, or at least they knew Teagan and I were seriously stressed, because no one joked about Cal’s potential to cut off a finger.
While they worked, I carefully removed the affected area of the first model. It wouldn’t require a complete rebuild, thank God, but it wasn’t going to be a quick fix.
About an hour after Teagan discovered the crisis, Marie came in to pass on some new specs to the drafters and check on everyone’s progress. The minute she stepped into the room, her eyes darted toward Cal and Silent Dave like a predator spotting its prey.
“Calvin, David,” she said. “What are you doing? Don’t you two have other projects?”
They both looked at her, then at me, hands still and eyes wide. Help us, boss!
“I need their help on this,” I said, focusing my attention on the pieces I was fitting together. “I’m only borrowing them for a few hours.”
“A few hours that could be used for drawings that I need as soon as—”
“They’re not due until Friday,” I said through grinding teeth, and I was pretty sure everyone in the room sucked in a startled breath. I glared at Marie. “We’re making the best of a bad situation, and if you want these done, then—”
“Yes, I want the models done,” she snapped, and gestured at the guys. “But their jobs aren’t optional either.”
Dave and Cal exchanged uncertain looks, and they both shrank toward the table as they kept cutting pieces while Marie and I talked over their heads.
“Jon, I need these models. We can’t—”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” I met her gaze. “But all those times I’ve said ‘barring any unforeseens’?” I gestured sharply at the model. “That’s an unforeseen. I’m fixing it as fast as I—”