by Zoe Chant
His hands were definitely not his only large feature.
When his fingers made their way down from her ribcage this time, they didn’t skip over her lacy underpants. He removed them like they had offended him, lifting Lydia and slipping it out from beneath her in one smooth motion. They shifted as necessary to line up, and then Lydia was moaning out loud as he spread her at last and drove into her.
“Yes, oh, yes,” Lydia told him. “My mate, my one.”
Wrench may not have been exactly as she’d fantasized, but this was more than her imagination had been broad enough to anticipate.
He didn’t just enter her, he owned her. Every nerve was afire. Every touch was electric. When he drew back, she was bereft. When his stroke drew him in deeper, she was complete. Her entire consciousness narrowed to how he filled her and lifted her and the crest of the orgasm he built in her.
When she fell from the heights of her release, she expected… she wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t to have Wrench kissing her neck and using his clever fingers at the small of her back and his hips to soothe and calm her as he slowly—so slowly!—continued to stroke into her.
She could do that again, she realized in astonishment as he steadily began to increase his pace, licking her collar bone. One of his hands moved into her hair, which was loose now. Lydia had no idea where her flower clip had gone.
It didn’t matter. Her world diminished again, to his hands on her skin, to his member filling and satisfying her bone-deep hunger for him. She was feather to his fur, and she was a vessel of pleasure and completion.
As she came a second time, she felt the steady rhythm of his strokes become more frantic, and his hands clawed at her flesh in desperation.
It was unsurprising that he swore when he came, blistering the air with his release as he filled her at last.
Lydia dissolved into breathless laughter, somehow not at all bothered by it through her own bliss.
Wrench came to a panting halt, holding her tight against him and staying, pulsing, in her for as long as flesh allowed it.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, hands careful where they’d been clawing only moments before.
Lydia drew his face down and kissed him, carefully and deeply. The urgency was past, but all the tenderness remained. “Not at all,” she assured him.
“Lydia,” he said, looking back into her face.
Lydia waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
He didn’t resist when she kissed him again, opening his mouth to her tongue willingly. Lydia was astonished that desire woke at the pit of her stomach again already, and she kissed him with the unspoken promise of ‘more’ and ‘soon.’
Then she pushed him back. “Come,” she said. “We’ve got to find all of our clothing or I will never hear the end of it from my staff.”
Her dress was an easy find, and all the parts of his suit except two buttons. Her hair clip had vanished.
“Lydia,” Wrench said again, standing naked and befuddled with his clothing in his arms.
Lydia added her dress to his pile. “Come,” she said again.
She led him past the storeroom to her room, tucked away at the very back of the spa. To her surprise, someone had snuck in and lit candles, and her bed was scattered with rose petals. “Well, this would have been lovely,” she laughed, and Wrench cracked a smile.
On her bedside table, her usual reading material had been tucked away and there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and a handful of condoms arranged in a rosette.
“Champagne?” she offered Wrench with a laugh.
“Not really my bag,” Wrench said apologetically.
“Not mine, either,” Lydia agreed. “Anyway, we’ve got a lot to deal with tomorrow, and I’ve got sunrise yoga to lead.”
Wrench dropped their clothing on a chair. “That sounds suspiciously like it happens at sunrise.”
Lydia removed the bra that hadn’t made it off her during their eager lovemaking, enjoying the way it made Wrench’s breath hitch when she released her breasts. “That is how it works, yes.” She yawned, blew out the candles, and slipped under the light blanket on the bed, scattering rose petals. “Come on, Warren,” she said, patting the bed beside her. The name didn’t sound quite right to her ears, but she couldn’t reconcile ‘Wrench’ as a name in her head.
He glowered for a moment, then sighed and slid down under the blanket with her.
Lydia scooted to curl up with him, worried for a moment that it would be awkward and restless to sleep next to someone after so long in an empty bed.
But he felt perfect in her arms, like they were both exactly where they belonged, and she was asleep before she could do more than sigh in contentment.
Chapter 13
Wrench was good at waking up without betraying that he had, staying still and keeping his breath even while he got his bearings.
There was a naked woman in his arms, and memories of the night before came flooding back in vivid detail.
Lydia.
It took all of his willpower to continue not to move. His brain wasn’t the only thing that had identified his situation, and his morning erection felt thick and hard between them. It was increasingly difficult not grinding himself against her as he registered that his hand was on a lush, perfect breast.
He opened his eyes. He was going to have to do the right thing.
He had no idea what the right thing was.
Marriage. Marriage was pretty typical, wasn’t it?
Wrench squeezed without intending to, and Lydia stirred and murmured in pleasure.
He pulled his hands off of her and rolled away as she woke up, resisting his other desires. He was supposed to be helping Travis this morning, and he slipped out of the bed and began pulling on his clothing.
“Oh crap,” Lydia said, looking at the clock beside the bed as she stretched. “I didn’t set the alarm.” The faintest hint of sunrise was creeping in the high windows. She scrambled out of bed and began dressing as quickly as Wrench was.
“I’ll do the right thing,” Wrench said firmly.
“Excuse me?” Lydia was pulling on yoga pants, hopping around on one leg and jiggling very distractingly.
“We gotta get married, I guess,” Wrench said. “I’ll do it.”
Lydia froze in an impossible position, and nearly fell over. “Excuse me??” she repeated.
“I ain’t got a ring or nothing, but I’ll have someone pick one up, and we can find a priest or whatever if you don’t want to do a courthouse thing.”
Lydia’s look of surprise turned stony.
“Or a church,” Wrench said faintly. “We could do a church if you wanted.” Probably he wouldn’t burst into flame.
“This is your idea of a marriage proposal?” Lydia said coldly.
Wrench pulled on his shirt, and found that several key buttons were missing. He wasn’t entirely sure why Lydia’s reaction was so chilly, but he knew that he’d better get it figured out in short order. “White dress?” he guessed desperately. “Um, do I need to ask your dad?”
Lydia yanked a tight shirt down over her head and started flinging things into a bag: a rolled up piece of foam, and what looked like a tiny gong.
“I’ll do what I have to,” he promised.
“What you have to?” Lydia stared at him. “I don’t want you to have to do anything. Screw that. Screw you. It would… just have been nice if you had wanted to.”
Then she was dashing out the door, while Wrench was trying to figure out where his shoes had gone.
The shoes proved to be under the chair holding their clothing, along with Lydia’s red dress and high heels. He picked the dress up, remembering the feeling of the fabric over her skin. Without her, it was just a lifeless shell.
Like him.
That was… sort of a poetic idea, wasn’t it? Wrench thought about writing it down for Lydia, but knew it would come out awkward and stupid.
He wasn’t a romantic person. But Lydia deserved
better, so Wrench lay the dress neatly over the back of the chair and picked up his suit coat.
He was going to need help with this.
Chapter 14
Lydia wasn’t terribly late, and there were only a few guests waiting in the event hall where they held classes and the weekly fancy dress dances.
She apologized sincerely and hastened to roll out her yoga mat. The music was waiting for her in the disc player, and she took the guests through a series of stretches and warm-ups automatically.
The time they spent silently holding each pose was agonizing. She kept remembering Wrench’s reluctant proposal to marry, and his scowling resignation. She also kept remembering how he’d felt, moving inside of her, and the way he smelled, and the way his hands felt in the small of her back.
“Let’s ease into child’s pose,” she squeaked, not remembering for a moment what she usually did next. “Extend your arms, palms down, and let your forehead rest on the mat. Feel your back relax and soften as you stretch. Allow the tension in your shoulders to leave your body through your arms, into the floor.”
Her tension wasn’t going anywhere.
After they had held that for a count that Lydia forgot to keep, she took them through increasingly challenging poses, automatically talking about centering and embracing the day.
After the session broke up and she said her final namastes, she remained, cross-legged in the empty hall, trying to find the peace that she had espoused.
“I keep swearing to myself that I’m going to get up early enough to actually catch this class one of these days.”
Lydia opened her eyes to find Laura, dressed in workout wear. She had a cup of coffee in each hand and a sly smile on her face.
Lydia sighed as Laura took a seat opposite her, and accepted the coffee she offered.
“You don’t look as happy as I expected,” Laura said candidly. “Are you wishing you’d taken Tex up on that offer to tip Wrench into the pool?”
“A little,” Lydia said wryly, sipping her coffee. It was sweet and creamy.
“What did he do?” Laura demanded.
For a blinding moment, Lydia could only remember how he’d taken her on the massage table, setting every nerve on fire. “He proposed,” she said, attempting to leash her body’s reaction.
Laura squealed. “Ooo! You go, girl! And you said yes?”
“It was the most awful proposal I’ve ever even heard of,” Lydia said frankly. “He made it sound like the worst kind of torture. Like he had to make a proper woman of me or something. ‘I guess I gotta,’ he said.”
Laura nearly spit out her coffee. “‘I gotta?’ He said that?”
“He said he’d get someone to pick up a ring, like it was some grocery order from the mainland,” Lydia snarled.
Laura gaped at her. “What did you say?”
“I told him, ‘Screw you.’” Lydia rubbed her forehead. “I was late for class already and just left.”
“That’s kinder than I would have been,” Laura sniffed. “What a jerk.”
“He’s not a jerk,” Lydia said, surprising even herself with her quick defense. “He’s just… just…” she floundered. “He’s trying,” she said achingly.
Laura reached out and took her hand. Lydia squeezed back. “He’s not what I expected,” she confessed. “I had my mate built up in my mind. He was this… ideal. And Wrench… Warren…”
“He’s not ideal,” Laura said sympathetically.
Even though she’d been thinking the same thing, Lydia had to restrain herself from hissing defensively, and her swan flared strong wings in protest. “He’s so handsome,” she protested. “And when he kisses me, it’s all the magic I could ask for.”
Laura grinned wickedly. “A good lover is a good start,” she suggested.
“But is it too much to ask for a little wooing?” Lydia couldn’t help complaining. “I mean, maybe I’m not going to get him to write poetry for me, but could he pick me flowers, or tell me I’m pretty or anything.” She gave a windy sigh and slumped forward over her knees. “I sound like a whiny teenager.”
“It will work out,” Laura promised. “He’s your mate, and you’re perfect for each other.”
He’s perfect, Lydia’s swan agreed serenely.
Lydia drew in a deep breath, turning her fold into a deliberate stretch. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I just have to have faith that we’ll get where we’re going, and I won’t strangle him on the way there. I’m too old for silly girl dreams, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t give up on those dreams just yet,” Laura said with a knowing smile. “He might surprise you!”
“Speaking of surprise,” Lydia said, glad of another subject to distract herself with. “When is Jenny leaving? I’d like to see if I can get her flight numbers so I can coordinate Ally’s flights.”
“The charter comes in mid morning,” Laura said, rising as Lydia did. “She’s packing now, I think.”
“I’ll go catch her now,” Lydia said, then stopped. “Or maybe just a little later.” She knew unerringly that Wrench was also at The Den right now, and she wanted nothing less than to run into him and let everyone witness their ridiculous awkwardness. “After breakfast.”
Chapter 15
Wrench stripped out of his suit with distaste. He always felt ridiculous dressed up. There was no point putting a diamond collar on a junkyard dog.
Someone had snuck into his room, much as they had Lydia’s, and tidied the place. The champagne was in a vessel of meltwater, and the condom rosette made Wrench scowl. Rose petals bruised underneath his feet, making the room smell too sweet.
The Shifting Sands staff uniform felt considerably more comfortable, and Wrench stomped down to the kitchen to find breakfast and advice.
Jenny and Travis were kissing in front of the fridge, which did not improve Wrench’s mood.
They broke apart when he cleared his throat, and laughingly gave him passage to the food.
Tex was pouring himself coffee, and Bastian and Saina were sitting together on the couch. Saina was reading a wedding magazine and Bastian was sorting his first aid kit on the coffee table.
Wrench took a plate of fancy egg pie and a thick slice of bacon, and went to the little island, altogether too aware of the amused and curious looks he was receiving.
“Does he look satisfied?” Jenny asked Travis in a stage aside. “I can’t tell.”
“Who could? He doesn’t do anything but glower.”
“Lydia never signaled us to come dump him in the pool, so presumably he didn’t blow it,” Tex added, leaning against the counter.
“I’m right here,” Wrench growled. “And I have ears.”
“No expressions, though,” Jenny teased.
“I asked her to marry me,” Wrench confessed.
From the couch, Saina actually applauded, and the rest of the staff gave a chorus of congratulations until Travis thought to ask, “What did she say?”
“She… didn’t seem real happy about it.”
There was a moment of silence, then Bastian demanded, “What did you do?”
“I told her, we had to, I guess, and she… wasn’t really pleased.”
The men in the room all groaned.
“Did you say that?” Jenny asked in disbelief. “‘I guess,’ and ‘We have to?’”
“Sweet daisies,” Tex said, shaking his head.
“I think that’s worse than my proposal,” Bastian said in a stage whisper to Saina.
“You didn’t propose,” Saina whispered back. “Your mommy and daddy made you promise to marry me. And this is even worse than that.”
Wrench stabbed a fork into a fancy egg. “Look, I know I screwed up,” he said. “I ain’t no poetry man or whatever Lydia was looking for. You can all be assholes, or you can actually fucking help me.”
There was a moment of silence, then Tex cleared his throat. “What kind of help are you hoping for?”
“I’m not writing poetry for you,” Travis said swif
tly. “Ask Jenny, I’m terrible.”
“It was sweet,” Jenny protested.
“I wanna know how to do my own sissy stuff,” Wrench said. “I’m not gonna ask someone else to do it.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do,” Saina said, putting aside her magazine. “It will just matter that you try.”
“It’s just showing that you care,” Jenny agreed.
Wrench might not have expressions of his own, but he was good at reading them on the faces of others; the men in the room did not agree.
“Flowers,” Tex suggested neutrally. “There’s a reason they’re a classic.”
“Just don’t pick your own without asking Graham,” Travis reminded him firmly.
“He could take her on a walk out to the waterfall,” Bastian mused.
“Oh, that’s a gorgeous walk,” Jenny agreed. “Take a blanket.”
“Just don’t fall down a cliff and collapse a lung,” Travis added.
Jenny sighed. “You could just bring Travis, he’s a wet blanket.”
Saina rose to her feet and walked into the kitchen. “You guys are amateurs. You have to figure out what it is she’d specifically enjoy,” she said. “The more personal the gesture, the more it’s going to mean. When Bastian was courting me, he went and got me the one thing I needed more than anything else in the world.”
“You called me an idiot,” Bastian protested.
“You were,” Saina told him with a dazzling smile. “But it was very sweet of you. What does Lydia like?”
The things Wrench first thought of were wildly inappropriate. He struggled to remember what she’d had in her room. “Yoga? Piles of rocks?”
Tex smothered a laugh. “That’s not much to work with.”
“She likes music,” Jenny said. “Can you play an instrument?”
Wrench gave her a skeptical look.
“Okay, maybe not.”
“She likes pretty things,” Bastian offered.
Everyone carefully didn’t look at Wrench.