Page 15 of The Woman in the Garage

I pretty quickly learned how bad of an idea furniture shopping with Dasha was about two minutes later as she kept planting her perfect ass on a bunch of different couches and chairs, running her fingers over the material, making me imagine those hands moving over me, of moving over her, of pressing her into those cushions…

“Oh, nowthatis a couch,” she declared, pulling me out of my fantasy to find she’d walked toward the back corner of the store where they kept the shit that wasn’t as popular. “Don’t you just want to press your face against it?” she asked, running her fingers over the back of the dark green velvet couch.

“Oh, they have it in pink,” she went on, looking at the tag attached to the arm. “If it wasn’t so astronomical, I would totally get a pink couch. My uncle has a striped couch. I think, at one time, it was maybe brown and gold. I have it draped in a blanket,” she admitted with a grimace. “Sorry, I’m totally talking your ear off, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind,” I said, running my hand over the couch. “It is nice,” I decided.

“Try it out,” she said, dropping down onto it.

I wasn’t about to turn that offer down.

“Wow. It’s even better than I thought,” she declared.

I didn’t know if I could agree with her or not because her leg was pressed up against mine. So was her shoulder. And when she turned her head to look at me, she was close enough to just slightly lean in and press my lips to hers.

“I think I found a couch,” I said.

“Yeah?” she asked, beaming. “What color?”

“Think I want this exact one,” I told her.

And not because it had her honeysuckle scent all over it. Because that would have been fucking insane.

“Okay. I’m going to go check out the lamps while you do the boring ordering part,” she said, slapping a hand on my thigh to push herself to her feet.

I had to sit there for a second, willing my cock to calm back down before I made my way to the desk to do the ‘boring ordering part.’

“Actually,” I said, glancing over to see Dasha checking out a lamp that featured a copper rabbit wearing the shade like a skirt. “Can I add another couch to the order?”

“The same couch?”

“Yes. But in pink.”

“Pink?” the salesman asked, brow quirking up.

“Yeah, pink. But sent to a different address.”

“We can definitely arrange that,” he agreed, posture going straighter at the idea of more of a commission. “What’s the other address?”

“Tell you what. That pretty girl with the rabbit lamp is gonna come up here in a second. I am going to ask her for her address. You are going to jot that down and ship the couch there. And in exchange for your discretion, I’ll take that whole dining set to my address too,” I said, waving over toward the one that Dasha had oohed and ahhed over when we’d passed them on the way to the couches.

“Very well, sir,” he said, practically buzzing with excitement.

“I know it’s kind of silly,” Dasha said as she walked up with the lamp.

“Nah, I like it. It has character.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, beaming.

I pointed to the lamp as well, and the salesman was quick enough to know to add that to my bill too.

”So Dasha, where am I dropping you off after this?”

“Oh, 152 Crescent Circle.”

“In Navesink Bank?” I asked. Sure, I’d lived there my whole life, but I didn’t know every damn street name.

“Yes. It’s a charming little dead end. So peaceful over there.”

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