“Wow, I got too deep for a second there.” She tapped the back of one of the chairs and looked away. “Anyway, the pieces here are exactly what I need to complete the design.” This wasn’t the right place or time to air out everything I wanted to say to her, but with every passing day I grew more certain that Alba Duarte was the center of my future.

She kept inspecting the pieces with interest as I watched her. When she got to a corner where there was a stack of crates filled with magazines she yelped with delight. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, picking one up. “Those are old issues of Look magazine. I bet I could find a few good ones to put in frames for the walls.”

The irritation and disappointment I’d felt in the car was long gone now, replaced by that warm glow in my chest that always seemed to appear whenever I got to see this side of Alba. She was always so harried. It was a pleasure getting to see her enjoy her work.

“What are you so serious about?” she asked, after making her way back to where I was standing by the door.

“I’m not serious, I just like hearing you talk about your work.” A pretty pink tint flushed her cheeks, and my hands clenched and unclenched at my side from the need to reach for her.

“Oh.” She snagged her bottom lip and my whole body thrummed like it was my own skin being scraped by that row of straight white teeth. “I can get real extra when I start talking about this stuff. I know it can get boring.” Her voice was soft, like she was actively trying to become smaller. I fucking hated it.

Nothing about you is boring, I wanted to say, feeling slightly unhinged from the powerful need to convince her that there wasn’t a single thing about her I didn’t find utterly captivating. But if I started I’d likely scare her off, so I reverted to form. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Alba Cordelia,” I teased and she rolled her eyes.

“Jerk.” But there was a smile tipping up her lips. “Do we have space in your truck to take this too?” She pointed to the coffee table and the crate of magazines.

I pushed off the doorway forcing myself to focus on anything other than that sweet little valley between her tits, which I now knew would taste a little salty from her exertions and a little sweet from the cocoa butter she rubbed on her skin. My head and my dick were conspiring to make me fumble this whole scenario.

Focus, Theo, goddammit.