Page 179 of Savage Roses
He picked carpentry. A hobby that allowed him to use his talents with sharp and blunt objects while at the same time forced him to focus and channel his energy into creating things. As it’s turned out, he’s discovered he’s a natural at the hobby.
So far, he’s built me a desk for my office at the firm and some shelves in our private library at home.
His workshop started out as a small corner of the garage, but once it grew and he developed a taste for the pastime, he moved into the basement. He erected soundproof walls and filled the space with so many machinery, tools, and other devices that when I visit, I feel like I’m at a hardware store.
I cautiously descend the stairs leading into his workshop and stop on the bottom step.
The second he notices, he turns down the heavy whir of the drill he’s using, and pulls off his safety glasses.
He’s worked so hard he has a sheen about him. Shirtless and muscled in his jeans, he could go pose for some sexy men’s calendar and fit right in.
I lick my lips and feel my skin warm. It’ll never stop amazing me how we could be together for as long as we have, and yet I still crave him like I do. At a level that makes me ache for him, fills my head with the dirtiest of thoughts, and has me endlessly flustered in moments like this.
He grins at me and wipes his brow. “I thought I told you to stop surprising me down here.”
“I wanted to see you.”
He tosses his workman gloves aside and then strides toward me.
So fucking sexy, I shakily inhale a breath watching his dominant, muscled form close in on me. All chiseled muscle and toned abs, his lean physique is decorated with scars and tattoos I’ve memorized in perfect detail. I’ve run my tongue over many times or raked my nails over. As he reaches for me, it’s on my mind.
A quickie down in his workshop.
It wouldn’t be the first or last time.
Though with how protective and particular Salvatore is these days, he’d never allow it.
He draws me in for a kiss before he teases me. “You missed me?”
“Yes,” I answer softly, resting a hand on his hard chest. “You’ve been down here all day. What are you working on?”
When I crane my neck to look around him, he blocks me. At my quizzical brow raise, he lifts his own—his brow raises right back challenging me in such a fashion it makes me laugh.
“Fine,” I say. “It better not be a minibar like Francis has been saying.”
“What’s wrong with me building a minibar?”
“Jon, we have two of them in the house! We don’t need another.”
“You can never have too many minibars.”
I roll my eyes only to have him interrupt me with another affectionate kiss. He grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs from his shop.
Since we married, we’ve moved out of the loft at his compound and into a larger home on the outskirts of Westoria. The suburban nightmare Salvatore hated when he was a teenager, but we’re in our own neck of the woods, so on the edge of the community that it hardly feels like we live in Westoria at all.
Salvatore had an impenetrable fence put in around the house to separate us even further.
The move out of the city and into a calmer environment was his idea. The environment is better for the future we have planned.
“Jon, where are we going?” I ask as he helps me up the basement stairs. Just when I believe we’ll turn into the den, he keeps walking, taking me upstairs to the second floor.
“I want to show you something.”
When we reach the long hall, he stands behind me and covers my eyes. I start to protest until he orders me to walk. Blind and trusting in him, I shuffle forward with no idea what’s going on. He directs me to stop and then reaches for a doorknob—something I know due to the jiggle noise of the brass handle.
The door whooshes open and he positions me a few steps past the threshold.
“Okay,” he says, his lips near my ear. His breath sends a frisson of naughty excitement through me. He uncovers my eyes and kisses my cheek. “Surprise.”