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She eyes me suspiciously. “Not to be argumentative, but is this going to be another tit-for-tat situation where I’ll owe you some favor in a few weeks?”
“No, consider it something done out of the goodness of my heart.”
“You mean you have one those?”
I smile at her, knowing damn well this isn’t out of the goodness of my heart, but more like my dick. The thought of Mr. Fudge Sundae in her apartment made my stomach sour the rest of the afternoon and maybe I’m just projecting, but she seemed uncomfortable with giving him her number.
“Okay, it’s in here.” She walks down the hallway and I follow her.
Fuck, her bedroom?
I glance around the room. It’s small but tidy. Her bed is all white, crisp, and cozy-looking with several decorative throw pillows in soft pink. On her nightstand is a small brass lamp, a stack of three books, and a framed picture of her with a young man and an older couple. I’m assuming it’s her family.
“I was thinking it would look good over here.” She points to a space on the wall opposite her bed.
I walk over next to her, the picture, a painting of wildflowers in an antique brass frame, propped against the wall. “Heavier than it looks,” I say, picking it up.
“Yeah, that’s why I figured the Command Strips weren’t going to cut it.”
I tap on the wall, listening for the studs. “Stud there,” I say, continuing to tap, “and there. Do you have a pencil? I should have asked for that before.”
“Just a second.” She opens the drawer of a small desk by her closet and hands one to me. I mark where the studs start and end on both sides before placing it in my pocket.
“Probably best we hang it on either stud unless you have wall anchors?”
“Umm, I’m not sure I know what those even are.” She does that thing again where she wraps her arms around her waist, then reaches up to rub her neck almost nervously.
Is she uneasy having me in her bedroom for the same reasons that ran through my head? Because the second I saw her bed, I imagined her arms and legs tied to the brass frame as I took my time exploring her body. The thought of her trembling beneath my touch, completely at my mercy, has me so on edge I’m seconds away from my cock making its presence very known again.
“Not a problem. I’ll make sure we won’t need them. How about you stand back and let me know when I’ve got it in the right spot.”
“Okay.” She nervously steps around me, walking to the other side of the room as I pick up the picture and hold it against the wall.
“We can put it here,” I say, looking back at her. “Or further over here.”
“I like it there.” I move it over and look at her again. “Over just a little more, little more, there. Perfect.”
“My hands are a little full. Any chance you can make a small mark where the bottom left corner is?”
“Oh, sure. Where is the pencil?”
“Uh, in my pocket,” I look down toward my front right pocket where the end is sticking out.
She steps closer to me, so close I can smell her hair as she grabs it gingerly before making the mark on the wall. “Like that?” She turns to look up at me.
“Just like that.” I place the picture back down on the floor. “You said you have the tools, right?”
“Yeah, they’re in my linen closet.”
I follow her back into the hallway and she opens the narrow closet door. “I put them up here”—her words strain as she stands on her tippy-toes to reach for a small tool bag—“since I wasn’t using them.”
“Allow me.” I step forward, reaching above her to grab the bag as she takes a small step back right into my chest. I feel her lose her balance as her foot lands on mine. I keep a firm grip on the bag with one hand, my other instinctually coming down to wrap around her waist to steady her.
“Shit, sorry.”
“This is starting to become a pattern with us, isn’t it?” I can hear my voice lower, the warmth of her body doing something to me. “At least no coffee was involved this time.”
“I swear I’m not even clumsy.” She giggles, stepping out of my embrace.
