More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4)

by Sierra Kincade

  Amy rose, and walked to the rolling cart near the front of the room where they offered samples of the makeup they sold. She snagged a few brushes, some throwaway eye shadow wands, and popped a few of the colors free from the display.

  “I like it in the bedroom,” said Derrick. “I like it a lot less when I’m playing the part of his brother.” He made a noise of disgust.

  “Coming out isn’t easy,” said Amy, kneeling in front of him. He didn’t bat an eye as she started applying a light shade of bronzer.

  “Are you seriously going to tell me about coming out?” asked Derrick.

  Amy chuckled. “I’m seriously going to make you gorgeous so you can punish the hell out of him when he comes back here to grovel.”

  “He’s not,” said Derrick. “It’s over.”

  She sat back on her heels, feeling the sadness fill the space between them.

  “Sweetie, I’m sorry.”Brushes still in hand, she leaned closer and gave him a tight squeeze. She wondered if, somewhere, Anna was doing the same for Marcos.

  “I’m not,” Derrick lied, staring at the floor while she went back to work. “I want someone who isn’t afraid to love me.”

  She thought of Mike, and how her baggage didn’t seem to scare him one bit.

  “You deserve that.”

  “Would you ever remarry?”

  She paused. One morning, not long ago, Derrick had helped her fix her makeup just like this. Only then, she’d been covering up bruises, not just a broken heart.

  Sometimes she imagined her ex trying to come after her now. She wasn’t weak anymore; months of self-defense classes, therapy, and the support of friends had made her strong. She wouldn’t cower or make up excuses this time. She’d kick his ass.

  Her mind flashed to Val and her daughter, Kelly. Wherever they were, Amy hoped they were safe.

  “Because it worked out so well the first time.” But for a flash she considered it: white dress, long aisle, Paisley holding flowers.

  And Mike.

  Mike reaching for her hands.

  Mike kissing her in front of all their friends.

  Mike. Forever.

  “Don’t smear my guyliner,” said Derrick.

  She jolted, realizing she’d taken a short trip to La La Land. What was she doing? She’d had her shot at marriage and it hadn’t worked out. Anything that happened between she and Mike was strictly a bonus.

  “Uh oh,” said Derrick, arching one brow. “Someone’s got their hooks in you deep.”

  She smashed her lips to the side.

  “I’ve got a hole in my schedule this afternoon,” she said. “If you box up this stuff before then, I’ll swing it by the post office, but only if you let me raid the expired supplies.”

  The lines around his mouth relaxed. “Amy, you’re a lifesaver.”

  ***

  To say she was focused through the morning would have been an exaggeration. She had a steady stream of clients, and in her moments in between she checked on Derrick. Still, when Anna came in for her shift before noon, she dragged Amy into their secret rendezvous point in the washroom where she laundered the sheets between massages.

  “Spill it,” Anna said. “You’ve been a ghost these past couple weeks.”

  It was the truth, and Amy winced because not only had she been an MIA BFF, she was shirking on any maid of honor support which may or may not have been necessary. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell Anna about anything more than the G-rated parts of her date with Mike—the restaurant and, of course, the shortbread ice cream.

  “I know. But I’ve got a partial color at noon, and highlights at quarter to one.”

  Anna put her hands on her hips. “So talk fast.”

  There was no getting past her best friend. Not that she was sure she wanted to. It occurred to her how their positions had flipped. A few months ago it had been Amy trying to wrangle details of Anna’s love life out of her between sessions.

  Amy grinned. And then grinned wider.

  “Turns out I’m quite a catch.” She fanned herself.

  “Obviously,” said Anna. “Talk faster.”

  Amy took a deep breath.

  “I kissed him first, and then he kissed me, and then we went to his second—that’s right, I said second—house and totally got it on, and then the next night we rocked out on his living room floor. And ever since then we’ve been at it like bunnies every chance we get.”

  She swallowed a deep breath. Anna’s eyes were as round as saucers.

  “Hold up,” said Anna after a moment. “Mike has a sex pad?”

  “He does now.”

  Amy giggled and did a little dance.

  “So,” prompted Anna. “How’s he in the sack?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Amy dreamily. “We were on the floor. And in his car. And on the pullout in the basement. And there was a short time in the kitchen and a brief rendezvous in the guest room, but that mattress squeaked loud enough to wake the dead so that ended about as quickly as it started, but yeah, no sack to speak of.”

  “Ohmygod,” said Anna, giving her a high five. “His abs. Talk to me about his abs.”

  “Don’t you have your own set of walking abs at home?”

  “Yes,” said Anna. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

  “They’re glorious,” said Amy. “As is his ass, which I know because I totally copped a feel when we were making out.”

  Anna clapped her hands and laughed. “Sounds like you did a little more than make out.”

  Amy’s happy dance had turned to a sort of ballet, but she slowed at this. It wasn’t that Anna’s words had made her insecure exactly, but what had happened between them seemed so much more profound than it sounded.

  “We haven’t actually had sex,” she admitted. “I mean, we sort of have. But not like, penis sex.”

  Her face darkened. Anna was trying hard not to laugh.

  “Sorry. What’s that mean exactly?”

  Amy shrugged. “We just...made out. No expectations.” She thought Mike’s words did a better job explaining.

  Anna’s face turned from confusion to something more serious.

  “It was still amazing,” added Amy. Now she did feel a little uncertain. Anna would have sealed the deal and had Mike pledging his eternal love by morning, but Amy moved at a different pace.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Anna. And after another moment, “I mean, look at you. You’re all glowy. Just...”

  “What?”

  “His patience is impressive.” She paused. “Unless you were the one...”

  “We both were.” Amy sighed. “But I think I’m ready for more.”

  Anna leaned closer. “You don’t mean...going all the way.”

  Amy slapped her arm.

  “Then go get it, tiger,” said Anna.

  “Maybe I will,” said Amy. Right then, with him halfway across the city, it didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. “Anytime you want to babysit...”

  “Just let me know,” said Anna.

  Amy smiled. “Okay, I’ve got to go.” She had thirty more seconds, tops, before she was technically late.

  Anna gave her a hug on the way out the door, reminding Amy of an earlier embrace.

  “Oh, Derrick and Marcos...”

  “I know,” said Anna quickly. “Talked to Marcos this morning. He’s a wreck.”

  “He’s got to get his head out of his ass.”

  “I told him as much.”

  “Good.”

  And with that, she was back on the floor, mixing dye, setting foils, and counting down the minutes until her shift was over.

  ***

  At one, she had a hole in her schedule, but before she took Derrick’s boxes to the post office, she learned that her two o’clock had cancelled, leaving her open until three. Tonight was her late night. Mike was picking up the girls and delivering them to his mom, and then he and Amy were going to meet at the YMCA for his self-defense class. But when she saw that she had an ext
ra hour to burn, she remembered that he wasn’t working at the apartments today, he was at the other house. His flip house.

  Their sex pad, Anna had called it.

  She considered calling. But She wanted something a little more intimate than making out in the cab of his truck today.

  Taking the boxes for the post office and three crates of expired products, Amy hurriedly loaded the back seat of the Subaru and sped out of historic Ybor City toward the highway. The road whirred beneath her tires, hiking up her pulse with each mile. Each minute that passed was one less she could spend with Mike.

  By 1:30 she was pulling into the driveway beside his silver truck. There was no sitting in the car, letting it idle while she reapplied her makeup and gave herself a pep talk. She knew what she wanted. Even if they just kissed, it would be enough to get her through until tonight.

  In a matter of seconds, she was out of her car and hurrying to the door where she was surprised to find it open. Her heart beat harder with each step. She could remember the warmth of his hands, and the softness of his lips. The harsh sounds of his breath in her ear. Images from the past days had been playing through her head since this morning, until she could hardly keep up with the small talk her job required.

  The high scream of a table saw drew her through the door into the kitchen, where she found him hunched over the metal and wood, mouth curved in a small O as he blew sawdust off the board he’d just cut. He wore jeans and a faded graphic T-shirt, frayed a little around the collar, and leather workman’s gloves that were somehow so sexy she started imagining how they might feel on her bare skin. Beside him, on top of a cabinet was his cell phone, and she found it both practical and endearing that he kept it nearby, as she did.

  She’d stopped cold, and after a second, he looked up, surprised, and gave her a small smile as he wiped the sweat from his brow in the crook of his elbow.

  “Hey Hummingbird,” he said. “I was hoping I’d get to see you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  He flipped off the saw’s power, and as it wound down to silence he glanced down at his phone. If he wondered if she had called first, he didn’t ask. Peeling off his gloves, he set them on the counter beside the board, and waited for her next move.

  For long seconds they just stared. Her, unable to speak. Him, so unbearably manly, surrounded by tools and leather, and smelling of sawdust and the spice she knew would be there on his smooth, dark skin. She wanted to touch him. She had to touch him. It didn’t matter where it led.

  She let her bag fall to the exposed floorboards, and walked toward him, though she hadn’t told her legs to move. It was like a fairy tale from the movies the girls watched. She was a princess, and he was her knight, and they were in this ruined castle keeping all the dragons outside.

  And then she slipped, and tumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees, and any sort of mysticism was sucked right out of the exposed air vents.

  “You’re fucking joking me,” she muttered.

  “Easy there, Graceful,” he said, hoisting her up before she’d been down more than a couple seconds. “The dust makes the floor slippery.”

  He didn’t pull her to a stand. He pulled her all the way up into the cradle of his arms, so that she was weightless, legs hanging over the crook in his elbow. It was equal parts romantic and mortifying.

  Around the corner was the stairway, recently carpeted, and he sat her several steps up. Just upstairs was where she’d run on their first night here, but she wasn’t running now. As he pulled away, so did his warmth, and that dark, intoxicating scent.

  “Ouch,” he said on her behalf. They both looked to her knee, which was starting to blossom red. Funny, she hadn’t even felt it until now.

  “Don’t move.” He disappeared around the corner and while she listened to the water run from some working faucet somewhere, she stared up at the ceiling and wished she could just die.

  When he came back, he was holding a wet rag, and knelt before her. The sudden image of the man from the porno on his knees before his mistress filled her head, replaced instantly by his request, two weeks ago, to trust him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Um?”

  He hid a smirk. “Complicated question?”

  Finding the inside zipper of her boot, he pulled it down slowly, and set it behind him on the floor. She was wearing leopard print socks, but though he ran his fingers beneath the top, he left it on.

  He was waiting for a response. She couldn’t remember what he’d asked.

  “What?”

  “You probably have a concussion. Does anything else hurt?” he asked slowly.

  She winced. “Just my pride.”

  Chuckling, he reached for the other boot, and took that off as well. She wasn’t entirely sure he needed to remove that one—this knee was clearly fine—but she didn’t argue.

  Gently, he pressed the damp rag against the raspberry on her knee, causing her to her jerk and hiss out a breath.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking up at her. Mortified as she may have been, she was lost for a full beat in the depth of his eyes, and the fullness of his lips, and the straight line of his nose. The long shape of his face only made his high cheekbones more pronounced, and her gaze drifted over the dark shadows on his jaw where he’d shaved.

  The sting eased after a little while, leaving her to fully concentrate on the fingers of his other hand, drawing small circles on her opposite calf.

  “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured this going,” she said.

  His brows lifted. “And what exactly did you picture?”

  That voice, smooth and rich as satin, pulled at every part of her. The longing that had drawn her to this house had only grown stronger in his presence. Part of her needed to rationalize that it was lust, and that she was still in control, but that part was on the losing side of the battle. Her body wanted his on a level she’d never before experienced.

  He pulled back the rag, and blew on her knee, and she gave a shallow gasp.

  “I forgot.” She tried to laugh, but came up short.

  Shifting his weight, he leaned forward and kissed the inside of her knee. Her legs flexed as his hands gently pried her calves further apart. Tentatively, she reached forward, and stroked his smooth head, her fingertips slipping down behind his ear. He turned toward her touch, eyes closed, as if savoring the feel. Her chest tightened.

  Her hand fell when he planted a slow, wet kiss midway up her thigh.

  “Oh wow,” she said, feeling a sharp throb between her legs that ricocheted up to her breasts. She gripped the step, suddenly aware that her knees were wide open, and that he could probably see her underwear. Thank god she’d thought to wear the good ones.

  His fingers rose up the back of her calves, to where her socks ended, and then slowly walked higher, riding over her hamstrings beneath the bottom of her skirt.

  She was already scooting forward on the step, closer to his touch.

  His hands slipped higher beneath her skirt, found the outside of her thighs, spreading, covering the whole surface of her legs. Bright eyes stayed pinned on hers, watching her every struggle to stay composed.

  She siphoned in a breath as his hands moved inward, into the valley between her legs.

  “Your thighs are so soft,” he murmured.

  One hand flattened over the front triangle of her panties. She writhed beneath his touch, but aside from the way the lines beside his eyes tightened, he seemed unfazed.

  “Can I look at you, Amy?”

  She went still, now aware of the lights, suddenly too bright and exposing, and the door, just shut, not locked. There were places these kinds of things were done. Dark places. Private places. Up until now, every time they’d gone this far the lights had been off, or certain pieces of clothing had remained modestly in place.

  But for some reason she gave a breathless, “Yes.”

  Watching her carefully, he very slowly pushed the hem of her skirt up her thighs.

  She
looked away when the bottom of the black satin peaked out.

  “When I saw you had this skirt on this morning, all I could think about was what was underneath.”

  “They’re my only sexy pair,” she confessed, unsure why she was talking at all. “Based on how things are going, I’m strongly considering getting more.”

  “Your thighs,” he interrupted. “And higher.” The bottom of her skirt was now so far up her hips were visible. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, and gripped the step even harder. From his view he had to see all of her naughty panties now. She could already feel the dampness of the fabric, which meant that he could probably see it too. Maybe she should have been embarrassed, but she didn’t hide his view.

  “You have the sexiest legs,” he murmured. She followed his gaze, but instead of feeling self conscious, she felt herself melting. Her muscles growing more languid. Her skin softer and warmer. “These damn boots you’re always wearing. And the short skirts. And those tights with the holes in them. It takes everything I have not to rip them off.”

  She shuddered at the thought, eyes closing for just a moment, before she remembered to keep her wits about her. She was falling too quickly for Mike Stroud.

  “I like these naughty little panties,” he said. “But bare, that’s so much better.”

  The tension was already searing the bottom of her belly. She’d never come easily, but now it seemed that just one pointed look from Mike could make her lose her mind. Still, she clung to his words, because they felt more deeply profound than they’d first sounded. It was as if he was telling her he saw her, all of her, without the funky clothes and accessories, and liked it.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  His fingers hooked around the sides of her black satin panties, and slowly slid them down her pale thighs, over her knees, and down her calves. She trembled, afraid to meet his gaze, wanting one more second where she felt like the most coveted woman in the universe before she was consumed by her own nerves.

  “Amy.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Amy, I...”

  She stared at the ceiling, forcing herself to hold still. Their time together had been incredible, but having him look at her like this was more intimate than touching in the dark.