Just What I Needed (The Need You Series)

by Lorelei James

  In the far corner of the room I found carving tools and lumps of raw clay covered in plastic. Next to that was an impressive set of woodworking instruments, including a lathe and a chunk of soft wood. An open storage unit at the far back of the room contained rolls of canvas and various lengths of kiln-fired wood. So in addition to creating the art on the canvas, she crafted her own canvases. She’d repurposed a filing cabinet for maps to hold paper of all sizes and finishes.

  As I moved around the perimeter, I realized she’d divided up her work spaces. Easels were positioned by the windows. A large drafting table was nestled in the opposite corner, next to a cabinet filled with pens and ink, charcoal, chalk, colored pencils and the biggest array of markers I’d ever seen. Above the table were a multitude of lighting options, including adjustable umbrella lights and reflective panels I’d seen professional photographers use. That drew my gaze to the ceiling. She’d kept the entire structure open, adding pulley-and-chain systems for bigger pieces that she could stabilize with hooks and cables she’d embedded into the concrete floor.

  But as I silently marveled at the amazing work space, it was nothing compared with the work itself. I lost track of time as I wandered from one area to the next, feeling as if I’d stumbled into a secret art vault of priceless treasures. No wonder Trinity couldn’t focus on one medium over another; she excelled at all of them.

  If her unfinished projects were this good … her completed projects had to be stunning.

  And it hit me then how little I knew of her professional life. If she had pieces hanging in galleries, or sculptures in parks, or commissioned works in office buildings. Or why someone with her talent would waste her time painting sets for a community theater production.

  Maybe part of the reason Trinity had gotten so upset with Ramon—besides the fact he’d been a total dickhead to her—was she’d known there was a ring of truth to his accusation that she’d sold her skills to the lowest bidder.

  Who are you to judge? Just because you can afford to volunteer doesn’t mean everyone else can.

  The door to the patio squeaked and Trinity called out, “Walker?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Oh wow. It’s cooler. You got the air conditioner working again.”

  I faced her. “You just blew a fuse. Not a big deal to fix.”

  “I appreciate you doing it.”

  A few strands of her hair were sticking straight up. I reached out and smoothed them down.

  “Sorry I fell asleep.”

  “Don’t be. You needed it. And it gave me a chance to wander through your studio.”

  Her face shuttered and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, nothing in here is finished, so it’s not much to look at.”

  “I disagree. I’m blown away. I—” I took a moment to come up with something better. But my mind emptied. “Dammit, I suck at trying to put it into words, but you are so freakin’ talented that they should devote an entire wing in some fancy art gallery to you just to show the world all that you can do.”

  She blinked those big green eyes at me. “Uh, that didn’t suck. At all. Thank you.”

  “C’mere.” I wrapped her in my arms. I kissed the top of her head and breathed in her scent, a mix of the sweetness of apples and cedar. A scent that made me hard and urged me to seek out all the places on her body where that scent was the strongest. A scent that begged me to answer the question of whether she tasted like apples and cedar too.

  My hands coasted down her lower back and over the globes of her ass. If I inched the fabric of her shirt up, I could grab a handful of her bare skin.

  “Walker.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I angled my head to rub my lips over the top of her ear.

  “I just remembered something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You didn’t kiss me hello.”

  I shifted my stance to gaze into her eyes as my hands lightly caressed her ass. “Well, sweetheart, hello kisses are your thing, remember?”

  “Shoot. I dropped the ball.” A startled look entered her eyes. “Dammit, since when do I make sports analogies?”

  “Since you started hanging around with me. It’s cute. At least you don’t mix them up the way my mother does.”

  “How can you mix them up?”

  “No idea. She always says she ‘popped the ball.’”

  “It’s sort of the same meaning, right? Dropped, popped. The ball is out of play.”

  I pressed the pads of my fingers into the curve where her butt cheek flowed into her thigh.

  “Why can I feel your fingers on my bare skin?”

  “Because you’re not wearing pants and I’m taking advantage of that happy circumstance.”

  She thunked her head into my chest. Twice. “And you’ve trapped my arms.”

  “In my defense, you’re not trying very hard to get away.”

  “True.”

  Squeezing her soft flesh in my hands, I put my mouth on her ear. “I know you have work to do and I promised I wouldn’t be a distraction, so I’ll go.”

  “You’re the best kind of distraction.”

  “Good.” I grabbed onto her hips. “Hop up on the table and I’ll give you a good-bye kiss.”

  “I’ll stand.” She rested her palms on the table behind her, tilting her head back to gaze at me.

  I stroked her hip bones with my thumbs. “Close your eyes.”

  “I love it when your voice goes all deep and sexy.”

  As I pressed openmouthed kisses to the side of her neck, I slipped my hands up the length of her body and back down. Up and down. When she started to squirm, I moved my hands lower, onto the tops of her thighs.

  Trinity shifted restlessly, offering me the other side of her throat. “I like when you make that rumbling growl like you want to eat me alive.”

  Oh, I want to eat you all right. I licked and nibbled and teased until her skin was damp and her pulse pounded beneath my tongue. The heat from her body released the apple and cedar scent and I couldn’t wait another second to taste it.

  I dropped to my knees.

  I pressed my face into the soft cushion of her belly, and my fingers undid the two buttons on the bottom of her shirt.

  She went motionless. “Walker. What are you doing?”

  Looking up at her, I hooked my fingers in the sides of her panties, slowly tugging them down past her knees. “Giving you a good-bye kiss.”

  “But … I … that’s not …”

  “If you don’t want my mouth on you, say so now.”

  She didn’t utter a peep.

  I brushed my beard up the inside of her thigh, across the rise of her mound and down the other side. Over and over.

  Her body jerked but my grip on the outside of her legs kept her in place.

  And the sweet, hot scent of her filled my lungs and lured me in.

  As I kissed my way back up to where my mouth watered to be, I noticed she had a mole on the inside of her left thigh.

  A small mark that might go unnoticed. Maybe even she wasn’t aware it was there.

  But I saw it. I wanted to claim ownership of that spot. Bite it. Suck on it. So every time she looked down at it, she’d think of me. Remember me kissing it and using my tongue on it as I glided my mouth up to do the same to her warm, wet center.

  I had good intentions, planning to take my time and savor every inch of that sweet pink flesh. But from the first taste, I lost my head. I was obsessed with hearing how she sounded when I made her cry out in pleasure. Obsessed with feeling her climax against my tongue.

  And was my babbling girl shy and polite when I was on my knees worshipping this intimate part of her? Hell no. Trinity made the sexiest sex noises I’d ever heard. She grabbed my head and pulled my hair hard to position me exactly where she wanted my mouth.

  I freakin’ loved that.

  Her thighs tightened and she arched up. Her panting gasps were a precursor to her shout of “Yes. Like that. Don’t stop. Please.”

&nbs
p; Boom. Two more suctioning kisses on her hot button and she unraveled.

  I almost got off just watching her.

  While she caught her breath, I ran the rough tips of my fingers up the backs of her calves. The feel of her skin beneath my hands, the taste of her on my tongue and her heady scent … potent stuff.

  “Walker?”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  “Can you check the fuse box and reset the fuse that blew in my head just now?”

  I smiled and kissed my way down to her knee.

  Then her hands were on my face, one petting my beard, the other rifling through my hair, keeping me there and prolonging this connection.

  We stayed like that until my knees protested and I had to move.

  As soon as I was upright, Trinity fisted her hands in my shirt and pulled me in. “That was a helluva good-bye kiss.”

  “But?”

  “But are you really leaving?”

  I nuzzled her neck, sliding my mouth across her skin for one last taste. “Yes.”

  She shivered and murmured, “Stay. Please. My bed isn’t very far and I’m so wired—”

  “Put that energy toward your work, so then next time I want to be all up in you, all night long. I won’t have to be chivalrous and leave.” I rested my forehead to hers. “I won’t be a distraction, Trinity, but I won’t be forgotten either. We’ll have to find these little pockets of time and make the most of them.”

  “Do you have any pockets open tomorrow? Like the one to your fly?”

  I grinned. “I’m working in the office doing bullshit paperwork I can’t put off. Tomorrow night Jensen has a preseason scrimmage thing.”

  “So … you’re telling me … ?”

  “I’m telling you if I’m trying to be fluid with this, you need to be too.” I lifted my head and kissed her pouting mouth. “Lock up after I go.”

  I made it four steps from her when she said, “Walker.”

  “Don’t say anything that’ll convince me to stay, because my willpower where you’re concerned is just about gone. Get back to work. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Twelve

  TRINITY

  We’ll have to find these little pockets of time and make the most of them.

  Walker’s words had been ringing in my head all morning.

  So far he’d made the effort. Happy as I’d been to be on the receiving end of his effort, I needed to show him this relationship wasn’t one-sided.

  Walker had happily stunned me last night, showing up with food, flowers and wicked intentions. He’d fixed my air conditioner. He’d fixed me. All day I’d been dragging ass and had felt distracted by the feeling I’d been missing something. It turned out I’d been missing him.

  After he’d rocked my world—just thinking about that good-bye “kiss” I got hot and tingly all over again—I would’ve happily blown off work last night to blow him, or to roll around between the sheets all night. But he’d retained a clear head and sent me back to work, completely inspired.

  So inspired that I’d finished two sections on the Stephens piece and started on a third, putting me ahead of schedule. With a little extra time on my hands, I decided to drop by Walker’s office with lunch.

  I parked in the corner of the big lot and checked my hair—already frizzy from the near constant humidity—my makeup, which, thankfully, hadn’t started to run from said humidity, and made sure that I didn’t have chia seeds stuck in my teeth from the smoothie I’d downed for breakfast. Good to go, I grabbed the carryout bags and the picnic basket. Then I followed the sidewalk to the front entrance.

  The main brick building that housed the offices of Flint & Lund had that funky, cool vibe. It totally fit the man himself. Inside, the entryway opened into a reception area with two club chairs in vibrant red that faced a dark brown leather couch. The walls were the color of celery and the rug pulled the entire space together. I squinted at the large piece of framed art on the back wall, centered above a thin rectangular sofa table. The art wasn’t … bad, but it was a mass-produced piece that matched the décor. While I wasn’t against coordinating a room, that wall cried out for a piece that gave a better indication of what business the proprietors of this establishment were in.

  A smiling redhead sauntered down the hallway. “I told the boss it was a good idea to put a buzzer on the door for when someone wanders in. How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Walker.”

  She studied the bags in my hand like I was a door-to-door saleswoman. “Is Mr. Lund expecting you?”

  “Ah. No. I thought I’d surprise him.”

  “He’s not usually—”

  Behind me I heard, “Trinity?”

  I whirled around. Walker entered the reception area from the hallway on the right, looking so yummy in a black T-shirt and jeans that I wanted to take a bite out of him. “Hey.”

  He didn’t stop until the toes of his work boots were an inch from my flip-flops. That sinful mouth curled into a smile and he loomed over me. “Hey, yourself.” Then he slid his hand behind my neck and brought his mouth down on mine in a decisive kiss. “Nice surprise, sweetheart,” he murmured against my lips before he backed off.

  “Have you had lunch?”

  “No. This is perfect timing because I was about to order in.” He noticed the bags in my hands and said, “Let me take those.”

  A throat cleared behind us.

  Walker gently turned me back around and kept one hand on my shoulder. “Betsy, this is my girlfriend, Trinity. Trinity, this is Betsy, the office manager.”

  “I prefer the term ‘ruler supreme’ to office manager,” Betsy said with a grin. She offered her hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Trinity.”

  Finally? Had Walker told his coworkers about me? “Nice to meet you too, Betsy.”

  “I’m having Trinity for lunch, so hold my calls.”

  I gaped at him.

  When he realized what he’d said, the cutest blush stole across his cheeks. “I meant I’m having lunch with Trinity.” He pointed at the picnic basket. “You want to eat now?”

  “I can wait. I want a tour of your workplace.”

  That pleased him and he bestowed another glorious smile on me. “I’ll put this stuff in my office first.”

  “Give it to me. I’ll do it,” Betsy said. After she’d loaded up the bags and the basket, she warned, “Don’t let him take you up in the attic. It’s haunted.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, one time—”

  “And we’re done.” He grabbed my hand and towed me down the opposite hallway.

  Walker gave me the full rundown of the house’s history—a single-family home turned into a fourplex and then left empty for years.

  We headed up a staircase that opened onto a landing.

  “During the fourplex stage, the owners added walls. So the first thing we did was tear them down, creating a conference room and Jase’s office.”

  The conference room was large enough to hold three tables in a U-shaped formation. The colors in here were subdued—grays and tans, which allowed the stained-glass windows across the back wall to be the focal point.

  “Are the windows original?”

  “They’re reproductions of the originals that were installed when the house was built. It was fun busting out the shitty replacements and the lath-and-plaster walls, though.”

  “I imagine you are a dangerous man with a sledgehammer.”

  Walker crowded me until the backs of my knees connected with the edge of the conference table, the way he had last night in my studio. I had a flash of him on his knees looking up at me as he scraped his beard on the insides of my thighs.

  He growled something and then his mouth was on mine. Not a sweet hello peck. This kiss was chock-full of hunger and need.

  My heart beat a million miles an hour when he ended the intense kiss.

  Those stunning blue eyes bored into mine. “You were thinking about last night, weren’t you?”

 
“That’s pretty much all I’ve thought about today.” I slid my hand up his chest and stopped when my thumb brushed over the pulse point in his throat. “Every time I walk past the table, I remember what you did to me on that table.”

  Walker smirked. “Should I apologize?”

  “No, you’re not sorry. And I’m not either.” I brushed the tips of my fingers into the hair on his jawline. “Your impromptu visit and good-bye kiss inspired me. I got a lot accomplished after you left. Since that gave me some extra time today, I wanted to spend it with you.”

  “That is an excellent plan,” he said gruffly.

  I slipped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to mine for a soft kiss. “Continue the tour, Mr. Lund.”

  He stepped back and helped me off the conference table—mostly so he could cop a feel. In the hallway, I stopped in front of an elevator. “Get out. You have an elevator?”

  “It was originally a dumbwaiter, so we just expanded the size of the shaft and put in this small unit. Betsy doesn’t have to walk up two flights of stairs with the boxes of job specs.”

  “Lucky Betsy.”

  “Dirty thoughts running around in that brain, Miz Carlson?”

  “I’ve always wanted to do it in an elevator. The tight space means you have to get really close. And there’s the whole getting-caught-with-your-skirt-up angle—stopping the car to go at it frantically and hope you get off before you have to … get off.”

  Walker coughed. “Jesus. Warn a guy.”

  “You told me in that one text you wanted to know all of my fantasies. There’s a big one.”

  His warm mouth brushed my ear. “Next time you need to visit me after normal business hours and we’ll see if we can’t fulfill your fantasy and mine.”

  I shivered. “You have a ‘Love in an Elevator’ fantasy too?”

  “No, although it sounds like fun.”

  I leaned back to look at him. “Then what’s your fantasy, Mr. Lund?”

  “You’ll have to dig a little deeper to get me to tell you.”

  It hit me. “Omigod. You want to do it on a piece of heavy machinery.”

  That surprised him. “How’d you figure that out?”