Mixed Up(36)

"How long have you been sitting here?"

She clicked her tongue, followed by a shrug.

"Raven."

"Two hours," she muttered, picking up the tiny bag with some screws in.

"Two hours?" Laughter bubbled inside me. "You've been sitting in the middle of this for two hours?"

"Not right here." Her gaze flitted to two other spots where, amongst the crazy, the floor was suspiciously empty. "I also had to go fix my nails, because I broke one."

I glanced at the hand she held up. I had no idea what her nails were supposed to look like, so I had no comment. "Why didn't you call for help?"

"Because I try to spend as little time with you as possible."

"And you were too proud."

"That may have been a contributing factor."

I shook my head and pushed off the wall. "So, this was your answer? Sit on the floor for two hours staring aimlessly at an unbuilt pool table? Wow, I hope you've had fun."

She flicked her eyes up to mine sharply. "Don't mess with me. My ass is sore."

"Good. Serves you right for sitting here like an idiot all day." I joined her on the floor and whipped the instructions off her lap. The tiny, bright orange shorts she was wearing were just that-tiny. Which meant I could see the lacy edge of her underwear. "Shut your legs."

Raven looked down at herself and, with a squeak, uncross her legs. She leaned to the side and tucked her feet beneath her ass, dropping the screws in the process. "This is awkward."



       
         
       
        

"Speak for yourself." Getting a glimpse of her bright, red panties wasn't exactly the way I wanted to start today's work day. I had to hold the instructions in such a way that she couldn't see my cock hardening in my pants.

My cock was such a fucking traitor.

"The hardest thing about this is how heavy it is," I told her, looking intently at the instructions. "How did you expect to lift this table when you were by yourself?"

"I was going to make it on its side. Then it'd be halfway there."

I looked at her before I could stop myself. "You'd probably break your back."

"Why? I'm quite strong."

"I'm not saying you're not." I'd seen her lift some pretty heavy crates full of bottles without breaking a sweat, after all. "But this is a two-man job, Raven. Like it says on the top of the instructions."

She squinted, leaning forward. "That'll be why I struggled to put a leg on the top, then."

"You think?" I asked dryly. "Do you want my help?"

"Are you gonna go all "Me man, me strong" on me?"

"Depends how "me woman, me weak" you go on me."

"Well played." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Fine."

"I didn't hear you ask."

"Now who's ridiculous?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Ask me nicely and I'll help you."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'd rather break my back right now."

"All right, then." I dropped the instructions and stood up. "I'm sure your customers looking for a nice Sunday cocktail will enjoy seeing this mess when you open in six hours."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. "You offered your help. Why do I have to ask?"

My lips quirked up to one side. "Because I'm going to enjoy your discomfort more than you know."

She blinked at me for a second. Then, she swung her legs around and crossed them.

I didn't mean to look, but my eyes had other ideas.

Once again, the soft fabric of her shorts meant her underwear was on show. Something about the bright red lace that seemed to match her lips and nails perfectly set me on edge, and it took only seconds for the stirring of desire to come to life. My blood rushed to my cock, and before I could turn to adjust my pants, Raven glanced at my rapidly-hardening cock.

The tiniest of smirks curled her lips, and when her eyes met mine, there was nothing but smug satisfaction glinting back at me.

Discomfort.

She was playing me at my own fucking game. Because now, even if she changed, every time I looked at her today, I'd be thinking about her underwear. And something told me she damn well knew it. 

Shit, she wasn't playing me at my own game. She was playing me by her own damn rules.

Raven Archer would be the death of me.

"Shut your legs, or the next time you open them, you won't be wearing a goddamn thing." My voice was steady but low, and there was no threat in it. It was a promise, pure and simple.

I could play by her rules, too. If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for me. Except I would follow through on my words.