“Can I help you with something, Big Man?” she asks, staring up at me,

I nod down to the bags.

“I got a handful of brushes, some drop cloths and some painter’s tape. Just the basics.”

I grunt in approval, focused more on the heat radiating off her body and the vanilla smell of her than her words. Her hair is up in the same ponytail as always, but a wisp has slipped out. I want to roll the strands between my fingers, feel their softness under my fingertips as I lift them to my nose and take a deep inhale.

She’s off in a flash, buzzing around the room, rambling about all the prep work she’s going to get done before we close in twenty minutes. I watch her scurry around and hum. She’s got nervous energy to burn. Maybe I should have taken her to the gym instead of Austin this morning.

I slip into the office and let the Jessie tornado tear through the shop. By the time I come out half an hour later, she’s got everything off the walls and all the furniture pushed into the middle of the space, covered in a drop cloth. She’s up on a ladder, laser focused on painting a straight line along our ceiling. Mikey’s underneath her, laser focused on her exposed thighs.

“How’s it look?” she calls down to him.

“Great,” he coos.

Fuck this.

In three large steps I’m across the shop, gripping Mikey’s shoulder and squeezing hard. He backs away, arms raised in surrender. He grabs his jacket off the pile in the middle of the room and heads for the door without turning his back on me.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jessie asks when she hears the door chime.

“Sorry, Jess, I gotta head out. Forgot I’ve g-got some p-plans for dinner,” he stammers. Mikey’s always been a bit of a pussy.

She looks down at me, her eyebrows pinched together. “What was that about?”

I don’t answer. My eyes are locked on the skirt tucked under her as she sits on the top rung of the ladder. It’s riding high on her thigh, showing off those legs that seem to go on forever. I don’t bother answering her. Instead, I grip her waist and pull her down, keeping my eyes focused on the floor beneath us until her feet come into view. Her shirt slips up and my right hand slides against her silky skin. I’m staring at it, the spot where my skin is melting into hers.

“Hey!” she shouts.

The paintbrush in her hand tickles my cheek and she presses into my chest. I tighten my grip on her waist and my fingers ache to slip farther under her shirt. She looks up at me and our eyes lock. My heart skids to a stop in my chest. Her eyes are so green, turbulent like the ocean during a storm.

“Hey,” she murmurs in my arms. I’m leaning down, giving in to whatever draw she has on me. I brush my nose against her hair and take a deep breath, inhaling her sweetness. She moans in my ear. Her eyes flutter shut and her mouth falls open the smallest bit. I lick my lips, hovering just above hers. I’m desperate to know if all of her tastes as sweet as she smells.