Page 23 of Fractured Fear

His head tilts down to scan his body as if he doesn’t already know how attractive he is.

“With abs and a face like that? You’re taken for sure. What woman wouldn’t want you? And here I am grinding on you like a bitch in heat. This is so embarrassing. Tell your girlfriend Iam so sorry. I broke the girl code. My sister's club membership is going to get revoked. I’m going to have to move to Maine and change my name. I?—”

Rio’s hands on my shoulders interrupt me. “I don’t have a girlfriend. If I did, none of that would have happened. Also, you can grind on me like a bitch in heat anytime.” His smirk makes my panties flood. Again.

Refusing to let his charm get to me, I step back. “Good to know. Regardless, that should not have happened. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I really hope it does though.”

Letting out a sigh I crane my neck to look at the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly sexy?”

“Impossibly delusional.” I snap back.

Instead of responding, his gaze wanders up and down my body and I feel it as if he’s touching me everywhere he looks. His attention locks on the apex of my thighs and I realize I’m rubbing them together.

I need to pump the brakes before I tackle him to the ground and let him do what he promised.

“Anyways, I’m going to go wash the clay off.”

Before I can get to the door his hand tugs on my elbow. “I don’t think so. If I have to stay in this mess, so do you.”

I glance down at my dirty clothes and realize there’s dried clay all over my shirt on top of my breasts. “Are you serious?” My question comes out as a screech.

His eyes dip to my breasts and back up to my face. “Oh yeah, Mama. Deadly serious.” His smile this time is slightly feral as if he’s proud of his hand prints on my boobs.

“You’re on my shit list, Casanova.” I point my finger at his chest as I look up at him and hope it’s as threatening as I mean it to be.

“Casanova, huh?”

“If I have to explain it, then I’ll downgrade you to himbo.” Rio’s laugh follows me as I stalk off to my wheel to continue with the soup bowls.

I can survive eight more weeks without asking Rio to glaze my donut hole. I can survive eight more weeks without asking Rio to glaze my donut hole.

You keep telling yourself that.

CHAPTER 9

SPENCER

After thirty minutes of everyone hanging out in the gallery, I dragged them all back. Their protests did nothing to deter me. I need my cockblocks right next to me, where they belong, so I don’t do stupid things.

Hayes gave me a knowing look and gestured to my chest where I momentarily forgot Rio’s handprint was still visible. I immediately turned and sprinted for the bathroom. Rio can keep me from going upstairs for a shower, but I can at least rinse off my shirt.

Rio ended up staying longer than his lesson time, saying he wanted to flex his creative brain. He ended up with two small bowls and a vase. A little thick, but they’re thin enough to fire in the kiln.

I ended with eight soup bowls. Not that I need them. I’ll probably add some pretty decals on them and give them to Alma once they’re done.

While Rio and I clean up our work stations, my stomach lets out a sound that could be compared to a bear roar.

“Uh oh,” Hayes says from his spot at one of the worktables. “Boss needs food.”

I cross my arms tightly over my chest. “I’m not that bad.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

Rio’s focus bounces between Hayes and me. “What’s going on?”

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