Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

“It’s beautiful, Tasha.” He paused. “Is it for me?”

“Of course it is.” She grinned at him.

Minx. “You had me believing we were going to keep sharing office space, or that I was going to have to find another spot in the house to work.”

“I thought the suggestion for you to work at the kitchen island was my best—you know, so you could do all the cooking as well as your designing.”

Max stepped up to the window and peered out. The space they’d set aside to build a playhouse for Samantha was directly in his line of vision. He turned back to Tasha. “I love it. It’s perfect, but where did you get my chair? I thought we’d gotten rid of it when I moved in with you.”

She grinned. “Remember I went to go see your Gramma the day I went into labor? I was sure she’d taken some of your things, and I wanted her to save that chair for me.”

He laughed. “You’re kidding. That’s the big secret reason you went over there? You’re a nut.”

“I guess the nesting instinct hits me harder than most.”

Two steps brought her back in his arms. “It means a ton that you arranged this for me.”

She slipped against him tight, burying herself against his chest. “I wanted a way to prove to you that I…want you around. All the time. That you belong in my life.” Her voice skipped for a second, and he lifted her chin, surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“Tasha?”

“It’s okay, it’s just that…” She wiped her eyes quickly. “There’s more to our relationship than being friends. Or being lovers. I understand better now that it’s going to take work, even if everything goes well.”

Max nodded. “Family is work, but it’s worth it.” He stopped in confusion. “When did you have time to put this together? I know it’s not since Sam was born. Or, I don’t think so, unless I’ve been sleeping harder than I thought.”

“I made my first plans after we saw the ultrasound. It would have been done weeks ago if Sam hadn’t arrived early. Since then it’s been tough finding the time and energy to complete everything, and I had to work when you were out.”

He tweaked her nose. “You were supposed to be resting.”

“I was, that’s why it took so long. A task takes forever to finish when you only put in five minutes at a time. I had the idea earlier, but I was scared to start anything until then.”

Before she’d admitted she loved him, she’d already been building him room in her life that proved she wanted him around. That meant something. Something good.

He kissed her, holding the sides of her face in his palms tenderly. His lips and hers together, gentle and yet needy at the same time. She lit a fire in his body that was ready to flare up at any moment, but the steady burn of the flame in his heart was even more powerful.

When she pulled away, he complained.

“You’re not done looking.” She pointed at the door in the sidewall.

“I thought that was a closet.”

“Nope.”

He pushed the door open and laughed. She’d somehow turned the walk-in closet into a tiny boardroom. There was the most gorgeous solid wood table with four leather chairs. A floor-to-ceiling window looked out on the backyard, and he realized he’d never noticed it from the outside—a pile of extra sheets of plywood had been hiding it from him for months. He turned on her.

“You crazy woman. You had this planned to the last detail, didn’t you?”

Tasha smiled. “You need a place to meet clients, and down the road, so do I. This space is big enough for me to spread out blueprints, and you and Maxy can fit with at least a couple of clients if you feel you need a more formal setting than a coffee shop.”

“So that leads to the office I’ve been using?” He pointed across the room and she went and unlocked the door, opening to the familiar sight of his desk and equipment.

“I stole the closets from both rooms to get enough space, which is why we need all the extra shelving. We’ll have to coordinate so we don’t have people booked for meetings at the same time.”

Max laughed. “I think we can manage that.”

Her hand brushed softly along his arm, fingers caressing up his biceps until she reached his shoulder. “I didn’t get everything set up. Figured you’d want to arrange it to your liking. And I didn’t think we should try to keep sharing one office once I start taking on contracts again—I was warned by a fair number of people that was a plan for disaster.”

It almost slipped past him. No way. “Other people knew about this?”

“A few.” She grinned, and he shook his head.

“You do realize that at the next Turner get-together I will be teased unmercifully about being the last to know?”

“Ah-huh.”

Her mischievous expression was going to get her in trouble. Right about now, actually. He pulled the baby monitor from his back pocket and examined it carefully. Hallelujah, Samantha was still sleeping. He placed it carefully on the floor by the door and turned to stare at his wife.

The bright happiness shining on her face made all the waiting worthwhile. So did the widening of her eyes as he stalked across the room and scooped her up.

“Max! What are you doing?”

He plopped her on the table, pushed her knees apart and inserted himself between her thighs. “Christening the boardroom.”

Tasha fisted his shirt and met his lips eagerly. They were co-conspirators, trying for a moment’s connection before the reality of parenthood intruded again. Time was a precious commodity, and they laughed together, fumbling to loosen buttons, unzip zippers. They continued to devour each other, tongues edging their passion upward as they stripped away layers. He resettled her bare butt on the tabletop. Her hands snuck around his shaft, delivering long, smooth strokes with her strong fingers that brought him to full arousal in seconds. He dipped his head to tease along her collarbone lightly with his tongue, dropping his hand between her legs to stroke gently. She shivered under his touch, hips rocking in time with his probing.

Tasha’s touch was so intoxicating he had to pull away before he ended up spraying across the new tabletop. She dragged him closer, aiming his shaft at her sex, but he had another idea.

It looked like a sturdy-enough table. Only one way to know for sure.

Max pushed her farther toward the center and prowled over top, pinning her to the warm wooden surface with his body. Skin to skin, so alluring, so erotic.

He wanted to touch every inch of her again. Take the time to tease and tickle his way down to the sweetness between her legs then back up once she’d come a few times.

A few soft gurgles rose from the baby monitor and Tasha swore. She wrapped her thighs around him and canted her hips.

“Screw the rest of the foreplay, I’m ready.”

Thank God. He dropped to his elbows, kissed her passionately, and adjusted his hips until her heat engulfed him. Their bodies slipped together with an ease that sent a thrill up his spine. Familiar, and yet still so new.

The sun shone through the window to bathe them in its warmth as he rocked into her, the table solid underneath, the peaceful noises of their baby as she stirred creating the sweetest background. Tasha dug her heels into his butt, her fingers clutching his shoulders hard, panting moans of pleasure released against his lips as he unwaveringly maintained a steady tempo. For that single moment, time seemed suspended as they reveled in each other’s bodies, in the connection between them. In the firm foundation they’d built their relationship on. He changed the angle of his thrusts, and Tasha gasped in delight. Her passage tightened around him, head lolling back as she came, his name on her lips. One final stroke and he joined her, jettisoning deep into her welcoming core.

They lay tangled together for another moment, hearts pounding, blood rushing.

“You know I’ll never be able to have a meeting in here now without remembering this,” Tasha complained.

He grinned down at her. “That was the idea.”

As far as he was concerned, the memory-making would continue for the rest of their lives.

Vivian Arend has hiked, biked, skied and paddled her way around most of North America and parts of Europe. Throughout all the wandering in the wilderness, stories have been planted and they are bursting out in vivid colour. Paranormal, twisted fairytales, red-hot contemporaries—the genres are all over.

Between times of living with no running water, she home schools her teenaged children and tries to keep up with her husband—the instigator of most of the wilderness adventures.

She loves to hear from readers: vivarend@gmail.com. You can also drop by www.vivianarend.com for more information on what is coming next.