He glowered for a moment, then sighed and slid down under the blanket with her.
Lydia scooted to curl up with him, worried for a moment that it would be awkward and restless to sleep next to someone after so long in an empty bed.
But he felt perfect in her arms, like they were both exactly where they belonged, and she was asleep before she could do more than sigh in contentment.
Chapter 13
Wrench was good at waking up without betraying that he had, staying still and keeping his breath even while he got his bearings.
There was a naked woman in his arms, and memories of the night before came flooding back in vivid detail.
Lydia.
It took all of his willpower to continue not to move. His brain wasn’t the only thing that had identified his situation, and his morning erection felt thick and hard between them. It was increasingly difficult not grinding himself against her as he registered that his hand was on a lush, perfect breast.
He opened his eyes. He was going to have to do the right thing.
He had no idea what the right thing was.
Marriage. Marriage was pretty typical, wasn’t it?
Wrench squeezed without intending to, and Lydia stirred and murmured in pleasure.
He pulled his hands off of her and rolled away as she woke up, resisting his other desires. He was supposed to be helping Travis this morning, and he slipped out of the bed and began pulling on his clothing.
“Oh crap,” Lydia said, looking at the clock beside the bed as she stretched. “I didn’t set the alarm.” The faintest hint of sunrise was creeping in the high windows. She scrambled out of bed and began dressing as quickly as Wrench was.
“I’ll do the right thing,” Wrench said firmly.
“Excuse me?” Lydia was pulling on yoga pants, hopping around on one leg and jiggling very distractingly.
“We gotta get married, I guess,” Wrench said. “I’ll do it.”
Lydia froze in an impossible position, and nearly fell over. “Excuse me??” she repeated.
“I ain’t got a ring or nothing, but I’ll have someone pick one up, and we can find a priest or whatever if you don’t want to do a courthouse thing.”
Lydia’s look of surprise turned stony.
“Or a church,” Wrench said faintly. “We could do a church if you wanted.” Probably he wouldn’t burst into flame.
“This is your idea of a marriage proposal?” Lydia said coldly.
Wrench pulled on his shirt, and found that several key buttons were missing. He wasn’t entirely sure why Lydia’s reaction was so chilly, but he knew that he’d better get it figured out in short order. “White dress?” he guessed desperately. “Um, do I need to ask your dad?”
Lydia yanked a tight shirt down over her head and started flinging things into a bag: a rolled up piece of foam, and what looked like a tiny gong.
“I’ll do what I have to,” he promised.
“What you have to?” Lydia stared at him. “I don’t want you to have to do anything. Screw that. Screw you. It would… just have been nice if you had wanted to.”
Then she was dashing out the door, while Wrench was trying to figure out where his shoes had gone.
The shoes proved to be under the chair holding their clothing, along with Lydia’s red dress and high heels. He picked the dress up, remembering the feeling of the fabric over her skin. Without her, it was just a lifeless shell.
Like him.
That was… sort of a poetic idea, wasn’t it? Wrench thought about writing it down for Lydia, but knew it would come out awkward and stupid.