20. Leif
20
There’s still a chill in the air as I step out of my truck and make my way through the salon carpark.
I pull the key from my pocket that I picked up from Westley’s office earlier. He assured me I would know which one was for the salon when I got there. Sure enough, as soon as I walked through the door to his office, a bedazzled hot pink lanyard was hanging on a hook on his pin board.
I’ve only spoken to the owner, Claire, through email for the last eight weeks that we’ve been working on this project.
I’m here a little before seven, hoping to get a head start on assessing the damage before the little dictator arrives. Melancholy taints the space as I take in the ravaged floorboards.
I tried to suggest tiles in this place, but would the beauty queen listen to reason? Of course not.
We were lucky to get these floors in stock when we did. It’ll be at least four weeks now before we can get more, plus the additional week for installation and sealing. At least the damage came through the centre of the room, and we had a higher profile skirting board, so the expensive wallpaper seems unharmed.
I drop to my haunches to inspect it closer.
The front door clicks open, and I brace myself to meet the owner. I hope the frantic words from her email on Saturday night have cooled off after a few days.
I’m ready to meet her halfway with a hand outstretched in greeting when I falter, my brows dipping, head tilted, wondering why the hell the sassy little blonde whose bed I snuck out of only a few hours ago just walked in.
“What are you doing here?” I smile, curiosity filling me.
I’m not mad about seeing her. Just utterly confused. The way she stops, wearing a doe-eyed expression and parted lips, makes me think maybe she didn’t know I’d be here. But how could that be possible?
“Leif? How did you get in here? How did you even know I’d be here?”
“Ahh, I didn’t. I’m here to meet Claire, the owner.”
“W-Why… Why? Why would you be doing that?”
I can see the beautiful tan of her skin drain, leaving her ashen. My brain is struggling to catch up, but it’s like watching a crash in slow motion. Something horrible is about to happen, and I can’t seem to stop it.
“I’m here to look at the water damage.”
“Why?”
“Because my company is doing the renovations.” I’ve never seen lashes blink with such determination. She’s starting to get that malfunctioning robot look with the way they flutter out of control.
“But Lee Connors is doing my renovations.”
I feel like anyone else who hasn’t come inside this woman would be operating on more coherent brain cells right now. All I seem to be stuck on is: have I actually been sharing a bed with a woman for weeks and emailing someone else, not realising they’re the same person?
“I’m Lee Connors.” We seem to be stuck in a standoff with reality. It’s me, versus her, versus what the fuck.
“What the fuck!” she screams. Yep, sounds about right. “You told me your fucking name was Leif!”
It’s not the same way she screams it when I’m making her come. I can’t say I care for this new version.
“It is Leif. Lee is a nickname. Only my family calls me Leif.”
“But—But Lee is annoying.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. I cross my arms over my chest, a smirk overtaking my face.
“Didn’t find me too annoying with my head buried between your pretty thighs.”
“Of course not. You weren’t talking then.”
“I was talking a little. I seem to remember you enjoying me telling you what a good girl you were when you covered my face with your cum.” The cutest little gasp comes from her lips at my words.
“Well,” she starts but can’t seem to finish the train of thought.
I watch as she nervously shuffles from foot to foot, hitching her handbag further up her exposed shoulder.
The neon pink strap of her blouse makes her skin positively glow. She looks at every corner of the room except for the one I occupy while she reaches into the back pocket of her tailored black shorts.
I’m used to seeing her confidence and charm. This fumbling ball of beautiful ambiguity, now furiously typing on her phone, is new but no less desirable.
I’m itching to take her in my arms and reassure her. I’m also torn between disbelief and excitement at finally learning her name.
She’s been insistent that we keep things casual since we started our little arrangement. Adamant we were only sex and nothing more. But now I’m realising on Saturday night, when she texted that she needed me, it was after the salon flooded. She wanted me when she was feeling down, and I can’t ignore that little tidbit.
“Well, that has to end now,” she sasses.
I know she’s trying to gain back that sense of indifference, but it sours my gut.
“What has to end, Bombshell?” I purr.
Come on, baby. Tell me to my face you can cut off the connection that I know we’ve both been feeling.
More breakneck speed typing on her phone as she glares between me and her device.
“Me and you.”
I hum. “What specifically about me and you? Me doing your renovations?”
The glare she sends me is more in line with the beauty queen I’ve come to know over the past weeks.
Determined and headstrong. A beautiful bombshell. Shocking me to my core and leaving me decimated in the wake of her ferocious allure. She breaks me apart and pulls me back together, and I revel in the unrelenting burn of it all. This is the fire I’ve always craved.
I stalk towards her, the vanilla and plum scent I’ve grown addicted to consuming my senses as I invade her space.
Her body tenses up, shoulders squared, back ramrod straight, still typing away at her phone.
“Hmm?” I draw my nose up along the smooth skin of her jaw, clenching my teeth together to hold back from nipping at her ear.
Instead, I whisper what I know we’re both thinking. “Or the way you scream my name when I’m making you come on my cock and tongue.”
She pushes on my chest, making me step back with a smug smile at riling her up.
“Which name would that be? Leif or Lee?”
Before I can answer, a whistle punches through the air. “Shit! The floors are fucked.”
I take an extra step back away from Claire as one of my carpenters, Jeremy, walks in.
“Yep. Gonna have to replace them all and the skirting boards, but the wallpaper seems to be okay,” I say.
“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll get it back on track in no time,” Jeremy says as he stands beside Claire, who’s still rooted to the spot where she first laid eyes on me.
My fists clench, and I feel an eye twitch as I watch him throw an arm around her shoulders and squeeze with easy affection.
The boys who work on Claire’s project come in every week talking about how beautiful she is and how they’ll stay back later just to see her whenever she visits.
I didn’t understand why before, but now I do.
I find it harder and harder to leave her bed every time. Knowing that the guys have been having their fill of her beauty and light makes unwelcome possession flow through my veins.
She can say we’re casual. She can draw that line. Even now, knowing who we are to each other, she can tell me whatever we were playing at before is over. But I know too much of her now, crave her too deeply, and my body knows. She’s mine.