“All right.”
They put on their coats and headed downstairs to hail a taxi. It was a brisk night, cloudy and overcast, with the threat of freezing rain forecast. Carolina was cold and the taxi’s heater wasn’t exactly in working order. She shivered.
“You cold?” Drew asked.
“A little.”
“Come over here.” He pulled her over and put his arm around her.
She wanted to resist, wanted to keep that line of distance and professionalism between them, but who was she kidding? She was freezing, and Drew’s body was warm. She snuggled in closer.
“Better?” he asked, putting his other arm around the front of her.
“Much. Thank you.”
As soon as the chill wore off, they arrived at the building.
Damn. She dug into her purse to pay the driver, but Drew had already taken out his wallet.
“Please let me pay. I’m asking you to do this for me.”
He gave her a look. “Are we going to have this conversation again?”
The driver gave them an exasperated stare, as if he wanted them out of his cab so he could go grab his next fare.
“Apparently not.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
She shook her head and dug for her keys to enter the building, then led Drew onto the elevator to the tenth floor where her studio was located.
She flipped on the lights.
“Wow,” Drew said as he made his way inside. “You have a lot of space here.”
“I need it for all the work we do.” She slipped off her coat and wandered the room, turning on lights and heading toward the racks of clothes.
She studied him, then the clothing, already deciding the more formal wear was out. Suits just didn’t, well, suit his physique. She went to the rack and started pulling clothes.
“This one. Definitely this. I want to see you in these pants and this shirt.” She started throwing clothes on the table, then stopped and stared at him. “Don’t just stand there. Strip.”
“I love when a woman talks dirty.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to the rack. When she turned around, Drew was pulling off his shirt. Her gaze may have lingered a bit on his abs while his shirt covered his head.
And she might have sighed in pure feminine appreciation.
He flipped the button on his jeans, and she found herself staring. She caught the curve of his lips.
“Are you sure we’re just trying on clothes, or is this some nefarious plan to get me naked so you can sex me up on your worktable?”
As soon as he’d said it, visuals of climbing on top of him and riding him on her oversize worktable filled her mind.
“Of course not.”
“Good. Because I’d like to bend you over that window seat and take you from behind.”
Her gaze immediately shot to the window. “Seriously? At the window? Where people could see us?”
“Come on, Lina. Living dangerously is half the fun.”
She could already feel him behind her, pounding into her while she planted her hands on the window seat, wondering who’d be looking in from outside.
Heat flared through her body. She pushed it aside.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Too bad. Just the thought of it made my dick hard.”
He shrugged out of his jeans, his erection very evident against his boxer briefs.
“Well . . . unharden it.”
He laughed. “Kind of difficult since it’s all I can think about now.”
It was all she could think about, too, damn him. She made an about-turn. “I’m going to get clothes. You work on that problem.”
“So, you want to watch me jack off?”
She pivoted in a hurry. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Your cheeks are pink. I’ll bet you’d like to see that.”
“Dammit, Drew, I didn’t bring you here to have sex with you. Now get serious about this.”
“Oh, I’m very serious, Lina.”
She stared at him—at his face this time, to let him know just how not funny she thought he was being.
“Okay, fine.” He stared at the ceiling.
“Now what are you doing?”
“Counting ceiling tiles.”
She tapped her foot and waited, trying not to stare at his cock. It took about a minute, but he finally nodded. “Okay, let’s play dress-up.”
She took the first outfit out of the garment bag. She’d chosen a pair of workout pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. He put them on.
“Shoes?”
“I have some. Hang on.” She started into the other room, then stopped. “Oh, I need your size.”
He told her, then she dashed in and came out with shoes. He put them on.
“Now, walk,” she said.
“Walk, where?”
“Back and forth, like you’d be walking on the runway.”
“How?”
Of course. He was a guy and had likely never seen a fashion show. “Like this.” She demonstrated, walking the length of the room, pivoting, then walking back.
He smiled. “You have a great ass.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you do the same.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to walk all girlie.”
“I don’t. I expect you to walk like a man.”