“What? Oh, ah, I just threw together the handle real quick,” Morgaine said, seeming to try to put her hands over the project.
“Well, let us see it,” Marnie demanded, moving closer, then scooping it up herself to see.
And there it was.
A big, intricately sculpted wing.
A crow’s wing, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, oddly wide-eyed.
“Nothing. It is almost as good as all those crow earrings,” Marnie said, bringing it over toward my mug, and carefully attaching it to the side. “Oh, wow. This is going to be a stunner when it is painted,” she declared as Morgaine jumped up from her chair to go wash her hands.
Crow earrings?
She’d made crow earrings?
Multiple sets?
When my gaze slid up to Marnie, she was jerking her head over toward the hand washing station with a look that very much said You know what you need to do.
And I did.
So I climbed up from my chair and made my way over, ready to make it clear to Morgaine that all this bullshit of us acting like we weren’t going to fuck was over.
Regardless of the repercussions.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Morgaine
Damnit, Marnie.
Why did she have to mention the earrings?
I mean, objectively, Crow might have found out on his own. Especially since he figured out my social media handles.
But I guess I’d been hoping that his curiosity just got the better of him, and he would only look once, not keep checking for updates. And, eventually, the post about the crow earrings that I would be putting up soon would get lost in the mix if he ever decided to check in again in the future.
There was no way he was going to think it was just a coincidence now that Marnie let the cat out of the bag, though.
My mind was on that, on what he might be thinking, on what he might say.
Which was how I missed the fact that he’d gotten off the chair, moved away from the wheel, and walked up toward me.
I missed it, that is, until I felt his whole front press against my whole back as his arms went around me.
“What are you doing?”
I meant for that to come off a little annoyed, huffy, even. I was pretty sure I failed at that, though. Because it sounded airless to me.
I was that, of course. Airless. But I didn’t exactly want him to know that.
“Washing my hands,” he said, his face ruffling my hair as he spoke. That was how close he was.
Dangerously close.
I thought that, maybe, the time we’d spent apart after that whole front seat of the car scenario, my body wouldn’t react so immediately to him. So dramatically.
But judging by the way my pulse quickened and my chest felt tight and my breasts seemed heavy and my sex clenched hard, yeah, my body could practically sign up for a damn drama class, it was being so over the top.
It wasn’t just dramatics, though, just overreaction to a tame situation.
Oh, no.
Because Crow’s clay-covered hands moved down my bare forearms then closed over my hands.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, hearing the desperate edge to my voice.
“You’re holding the scrub brush,” he told me, reaching between my hands to grab it, then setting to scrub his hands with it while mine just stayed there, limply hanging in the air just out of the stream of water from the tap.
Done with his own hands, though, he grabbed one of mine, holding it with one hand as the other scrubbed over the back, my palm, down each finger and then between.
He was washing my damn hands.
But it might as well have been fucking foreplay with the way my body ignited.
I didn’t seem to have a shred of self-control left within me, either, because I just… leaned back into him as he reached for my other hand to continue the same process.
I didn’t care that Marnie was still milling around the shop, that we were within sight of any foot traffic passing by, that anyone could happen into the studio.
I just let myself lean into him, closing my eyes, and soaking up the moment.
Time felt like it slipped away, even if I objectively knew it was only a few minutes that we stood there.
“All done, baby,” Crow said, clearly a little more in control of himself than I was, more aware of the inappropriateness of the location.
Stifling a grumble, I not only peeled my body off of his, but quickly ducked under his arm and put as much distance between us as possible.
“Marnie, why don’t you paint that mug for me when it dries,” I said as I gathered my bags. I would leave the boxes for when I needed to pick up my stuff. “And then fire it?” I added, reaching into my purse to grab the cash for her.
“You sure you two don’t want to come back to paint it?” she asked, looking between us.