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“I want you,” he murmured against my lips. His hands gripped me at my waist and pulled me against him. “Here. In our workshop.”

Heat shot through me. Yesterday I’d had to pry a want out of him with both hands. Tonight he was handing me one.

I nodded, not needing to think about it.

Jake took my hand and turned toward his own bench, the solid one, the one his father had helped him build.

“No.” I nodded at the middle of the room. “There.”

He looked at my bench, and then at me. “It’s on wheels.”

“And you know those wheels lock.”

“Nico.”

“They’re locked right now.”

He let go of my hand, walked over, and put his hip into the end of it. Hard. The way he put men into the boards. The workbench didn’t budge.

“Had to check,” he said.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know if my workbench was locked in place?”

“No. But just like you check to make sure things are right, so do I.”

He chuckled as he lifted me up, and spun us around as if I weighed nothing. He set me down on the bench. In the twinkling light, he looked like he could’ve come out of a dream. Gentle strength, eyes lit with lust. He stepped between my legs, solid and warm, his gaze moving over my face, seeing all of me.

“We’re going to mark it,” he said.

I got a fistful of his flannel and pulled him close. He kissed me with more heat this time. More urgency. His hands found the buttons of my shirt and worked them one at a time until he could ease it off my shoulders.

I reached for him, wanting skin against skin. But he went to work and was quicker with his own buttons than he’d been with mine. He let his shirt drop somewhere behind him.

I put my hands on his chest, and my fingers traced along the edges of the dusting of reddish-brown hair he had between his pecs. My hands always have a job. Give them an idle minute and they search for something to do. Tonight the only work they wanted was him.

Jake covered one of my hands with his and pressed it flat over his heart.

“You asked me once when I got to want something for myself,” he said. “Same question, for you. There’s no work tonight. Your hands can do whatever you want them to.”

I wanted to map all of him. Everywhere that made him moan, vibrate, get harder. All of it, beyond the sensitive nipples I’d already found.

His hands and mouth were everywhere, too. Slow kisses down my neck and throat. The curve of my shoulder. The spot below my ear he’d found the other night. No searching.

I couldn’t hold back a long moan, and I hoped the neighbors couldn’t hear. Hopefully, the sound wouldn’t carry.

“I love the sounds you make.” He nuzzled into my neck, his beard rough on my skin. “The way you respond to me.”

“Always for you.” The words came out rough as I rode the waves of pleasure from his touch. My hands found his shoulders and held on.

Jake’s mouth crashed against mine, hungry, and I met him kiss for kiss.

He worked the buttons of my jeans while I kicked off my shoes. I lifted my hips so he could finish stripping me. The bench was cool against my bare skin. But his hands were warm, tracing patterns across my thighs. My cock twitched even though he hadn’t touched it yet.

“God, Nico,” he breathed. His eyes danced in the flickering light that surrounded us.

He peppered more kisses on my stomach, along my legs, practically everywhere except my cock. He’d get near it sometimes, his head might graze it, but he wasn’t giving it any attention—until he was. Suddenly his tongue glided up the side, and it was heaven as jolts shot down my cock and spread through me.

I had no words for the sensations, and all I could do was moan through them and brace myself with my hands on the bench behind me. As he locked his lips on my head, his eyes flicked to me and I was mesmerized watching him lower down my shaft all while he worked me.