Chapter 3
3
AUSTYN
I’m a professional. Maybe if I chant it aloud, I’ll believe it. I preach about meditation and staying in control, but when faced with a nervous Tate responding to my slightest touch, my professionalism takes a hike.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I can do this.
Tate still hasn’t responded to my announcement. The red tinge on his neck moves up to his cheeks as he stares straight ahead. Finally, he clears his throat and nods. “Okay.”
I measure his waist and hips, working as quickly as I can. His body is stiff with tension, and although the measurements are more accurate if he’s relaxed, this is probably the best I can hope for. I ignore the heat radiating from his body as I run the tape measure down the side of his leg. The intoxicating scent of Tate’s sweat is hard to resist. But I’m a damn professional, so I don’t bury my nose in his armpits.
Or his groin.
But fuck, I want to.
His thighs have starred in my fantasies since the day I met him. Thick. Strong. I push back images of those legs wrapped around me. Crouching, I measure the circumference of this left thigh, being careful my fingers don’t touch his skin. That would be my undoing. Next, I measure the right, keeping my composure up to the moment Tate whimpers. Fuck.
I stand and let out a nervous laugh. “Tate, we…um…we need to stop for a minute.”
His face falls. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I wave my hand like it’s nothing, but my cheeks are hot. “It happens.” Then, my eyes betray me by darting down to the large bulge in his pants. “Holy Jesus.”
Red spreads across his face and he tries to cover himself with his equally large hands. A professional would look away. But I can’t. The bulge gets bigger, which I didn’t think was possible.
“This happens a lot?” Tate asks, his voice low. His shyness and the fact that he’s unaware of how sexy he is…is hot as fuck. Add the fact that I’ve barely touched him? Gah. I want Tate to handle me roughly. Fuck me into the mattress. But I also want to take care of him. Show him how special he is.
None of that can happen. I can’t take advantage of Tate. He needs my help, and that’s my focus. Not his monster cock. Or his sweet nature.
“It’s not unusual.” I rub the back of my neck and try—unsuccessfully—to keep the words from slipping out. “I’m flattered, Tate.” I bite my lips to keep from begging him and sneak a look at him. Desire flares in his eyes and his gaze drops to my mouth.
My muscles ache from trying to hold back. What would it be like to kiss him? His strong arms around me. My body crushed against his?
“Aus…”
I shake my head. More at myself than him. I’m the professional. But it’s difficult to remember when his cock is valiantly trying to bust out of his shorts, and I want to help it get free. I suck in a breath—or two. Or three—and take a step back. “We…have to keep this professional.”
The change is immediate. His body sags as he wraps his arms around himself and turns away. “Sorry, Aus.”
I want to hurt whoever destroyed this man’s confidence. I grab his hand and pull. “Look at me, Tate.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says, his voice thick.
I release his hand. He’s still hard, and that’s the problem. “We need to stop, but not for the reason you think.” I’m guessing, based on the way he reacted. “I need to measure your crotch.”
He sucks in a breath and chokes. After a few coughs, he gives me an embarrassed smile and nods.
But the bulge in his shorts isn’t getting any smaller.
I rush to explain. “It’s not usually a problem even if a guy—” I wave my hand. Why is this so difficult? “As I said, it happens sometimes. But you’re different, Tate.”
He ducks his head. “I get it.”
“You obviously don’t.” I huff a frustrated breath. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re just…big. So, so big…” I get lost for a moment, imagining the heavy feel of him in my hand. God, I want that. Heat flashes through me, and I cough, trying to clear my throat and mind. “It throws the measurements off.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I jump at the noise. The door to the hallway opens, letting in the music from the store, and Rad shouts, “I said no, Walter.” The door slams shut again.
Tate stares at me. “Should we go help him?”
“Rad can take care of himself. And we’re almost finished.” Thankfully, the interruption took care of our not-so-little problem. And before Tate can think too much about what’s happening, I measure his crotch and write the measurements in my notebook. “Done,” I say, smiling at Tate.
He grins in response. “Thanks, Aus.” His dark eyes are a rich mocha, and I can’t look away.
“You’re welcome.” The desire to erase all his insecurities is more potent than the lust from moments ago. I push those away too and nod at the door. “Now, let’s take care of our pest problem.”
Walter and Rad are arguing when we enter the main area of the shop. Thankfully, there are no customers.
“What’s going on?”
They both stop and stare at me. Rad raises his chin. “He started it.”
“Did not.”
“Oh, you most certainly did.”
“Stop, both of you. You’re scaring—” I stop, aware of Tate behind me.
Walter chuckles. “The lad doesn’t look scared. More…happy, if you know what I mean.”
I try not to react. Or to look and see if he’s right. Rad bites his lips as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Go away, Walter.”
His smile drops. “Mr. Jacobs wants a progress report.”
I place my hands on my hips. “It’s been one day.”
“So…that’s a no?”
I growl. And I never growl. “Go away, Walter.” I want to tell Mr. Jacobs and Walter to go fuck themselves. But they might take it out on Tate. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
He shrugs. “That’s fine. For now. But if Mr. Jacobs thinks you’re stalling, I’ll be back. And hot stuff here will need to be ready.”