Page 27 of Craving

He arched a brow. “I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“It’s a hell yes!” She jumped up to clear the table, then dragged Marlon to the front room. Her hair was a chaotic mass piled on top of her head, starting to curl as it dried. Her cheeks had grown flushed, her eyes bright. “This is an amazing room. The original architectural details are so beautiful. I think we should lean on that. How do you feel about tufting?”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Good, because I hate it.” She gave him an impish smile, and another laugh was dragged out of him. She turned toward the room and spread her arms in a wide arc. “We’re going to go traditional, but with a modern twist. No tufting.”

“No tufting,” he repeated with a solemn nod.

“Light colors, maybe a nice neutral taupe on the walls. Bright white trim and moldings. Do you have tools? We could add a chair rail or some kind of molding to the walls around, try to find something that matches what’s existing. The chandelier is amazing, but I think it might be too big for the space.”

Marlon half-listened to Camilla tell him all her grand plans, but mostly he just watched the way she brightened as she spoke. She had a thousand ideas, and all of them sounded good.

She dragged in a hard inhale, then turned and grabbed his forearm with both arms. “We could go antiquing!”

“Whatever you want, Camilla,” he replied with a soft smile, and he meant it. He’d give this woman the world if he could.

She spun around in a circle, her finger tapping her chin, a focused, enchanting expression on her face. “Do you have a tape measure?”

Her energy was like a fresh, cool breeze blowing in his life. He nodded. “I’ve got a tape measure.”

“Let’s get started, then.”

The good thing about being the boss was that Camilla could set her own schedule. Emily had been more than happy to take the weekend shifts, which meant that Camilla had had Saturdays and Sundays free for a few months now, other than when she took on special cake decorating jobs. That evening, as she and Marlon measured out the living room and looked up photos for inspiration, she found herself excited about the upcoming weekend for the first time in a long, long time.

A year ago, she would’ve spent some time with her friends and caught up on paperwork for the business. Lately, her weekends had been consumed with work and trying to find a rental in her price range. But to do something fun? To redecorate this beautiful room and get to enjoy the finished product?

It was almost as good as baking and decorating an elaborate cake.

“I’m glad you’re getting rid of the sex couch,” she said from her perch on the armchair across from the offending piece of furniture.

Marlon leaned back on said sofa, stretching his arms across the backs of the cushions. “The sex couch?”

She shuddered dramatically, which made him grin. She loved doing that. He was so serious and scowly most of the time that making Marlon smile was its own special reward. Then his face changed slightly, and his gaze dropped down the length of her body.

Heat pooled between Camilla’s thighs, and she suddenly remembered that it had been months since she’d slept with anyone. Her vibrator had gotten a serious workout this week, but it was barely taking the edge off. She’d started using it morning and night just so she could think clearly during the day.

She’d gone through periods of horniness before. It came and went in her life, depending on how stressed she was, how busy she was, if she was dating anyone, and a thousand other factors. It wasn’t exactly unusual to be extra horny for a period of time.

But this…this was different. This was white-hot lust that sparked every time Marlon was near. This was torture.

“I should go to bed,” Marlon said, his eyes still heavy with desire. “Big weekend ahead.”

“Mm-hmm,” Camilla said, thighs clenching. She cleared her throat and stood. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

NINE

On Saturday, they started by cleaning out the living room. Once it was empty of Marlon’s grandmother’s knickknacks, the curtains were down, and all the furniture was moved out, Marlon stood in the center of the room and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

Camilla came barreling into the room with a tape measure in one hand and her phone in the other. Her hair was tied up in another messy bun, and she had a green, paisley-patterned scarf wrapped around her hairline. It was tied in a big floppy bow on top of her head, and it matched the green top she had on with her jeans. Every beautiful curve was highlighted by her clothes, and Marlon thought he wouldn’t survive the weekend if she looked like that the whole time.

“Okay. First things first, we prep. We’ll have to sand everything down…” She frowned at the ceiling, then squinted at Marlon. “And you can do the ceiling because you’re tall and to be completely honest with you, my arms get tired when I blow-dry my hair. There’s no way they’ll make it through sanding a whole ceiling. Do you have a stepladder?”

“Sure do.” He led Camilla to the garage, where they hunted through his tools and made a list of what was missing. They had to make a pit stop at the hardware store, and Marlon got to enjoy watching Camilla march through the aisles, get distracted by paint chips, then refocus herself on what they needed.

“You want to buy the paint while we’re here?” Marlon asked, peering over her shoulder to see the colors she’d chosen.

She tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe we can get samples and put swatches on the walls. Oh! We should look at the light switch plates. Can’t leave those old yellow ones if we’re updating everything else.” She was off like a shot to the electrical aisle, and Marlon could do nothing but follow. She waved at one of the employees working in the plant nursery out back. “Hi Bill!”

---