Kenan stood in front of me, the unfinished Victorian-inspired jacket draped perfectly over his frame. The deep blue fabric hugged his shoulders, falling in sharp, clean lines. The collar sat high against his neck, and even without the final embellishments, the look was enough to make me pause.
I hated how my stomach did that weird flip. Heat pricked the tips of my ears before I could stop it.
"It still needs to be taken in more," I said, forcing my voice steady. "For that fitted look. What do you think?"
Kenan shrugged lazily. "Although I don't like blue on me… it looks good."
Or any color, really except black. The man was practically in a committed relationship with it.
"Weren't you wearing blue a few days ago?"
"My mother insisted."
"Oh, so you're a mama's boy." I smirked, but the compliment I almost said lodged in my throat. "But you looked… presentable."
His gaze sharpened with amusement. In two strides, he was close too close until I had to step back. His hand brushed my forehead in mock concern. "Is Ciro being nice to me? I should help you more often."
I swatted his hand away. "Whatever. Let me see your arms,stretch them out." I glanced up, realizing I'd have to tiptoe again.
"Just sit down on the bed."
"What, you want me to stoop?"
"No. I wouldn't get it properly otherwise, so sit."
Stubborn as ever, he sat, arms outstretched. I stepped between his knees, measuring tape ready. Everything was fine and peaceful until his thighs closed suddenly around mine.
I froze. "Do you have nothing better to do?"
He only shrugged, then squeezed again, harder this time, knocking me off balance. My legs gave way and I toppled forward straight into him. The sharp bump of my forehead caught his mouth.
"Ow—" I winced, bracing myself against his chest.
"I never knew you were so physically disabled," he said dryly.
Speaking as if this wasn't his fault.
Rolling my eyes, I let my chin rest on his chest for a second. "Are your lips okay?"
"You wanna check?"
I started to push myself up, but his hands slid to my waist, holding me in place.
"How can I check if you're keeping me pinned?"
"You can stay right here and check."
I planted a palm against his chest, using it to lift myself despite his grip. "Looks fine to me."
Too fine actually.
"Want me to use my hands instead to make it worse?" I threatened, curling my fist.
His hold only tightened, my body pressing closer against him. Heat radiated between us, his pheromones curling heavy in the air.
"Why don't you use your mouth instead?" he teased.
The words hit harder than they should have. My cheeks burned, confidence slipping like sand through my fingers; or realizing the position we were in. I lay back against him without thinking. "Can you let me go?"
He ignored me. "You smell different."
The warmth that had been crawling at my neck began to pool lower in my chest. "Why would I smell different? You're imagining it."
"No. Sweeter."
"Whatever. Let me go."
Instead, he shifted suddenly, turning us so I was flat on my back, him leaning over me. I rolled to my side, trying to hide my face, but in doing so I gave him an opening at my neck.
His breath brushed the skin there before his lips followed. "Told you. Sweeter," he murmured against me, words muffled against my throat.
It tickled until it didn't. Until heat pooled low in my stomach, sharper, heavier.
"Kenan…" My voice came out thinner than I wanted.
He only hummed, his lips trailing lower. Teeth grazed my skin, then tugged gently before his mouth closed over one spot. The sharp pull made a quiet sound escape me.
I shifted under him only for his mouth to catch mine.
At first, it was slow, deliberate. His lips pressed firmly against mine, testing, coaxing. My fingers curled in the fabric at his shoulders before I realized I was kissing him back. The scent of himrich, warm, threaded with that darker note of pheromones wrapped around me, dizzying.
His hand slid from my waist up my spine, pulling me closer until there was no space left. The kiss deepened, his mouth moving with a surer, hungrier rhythm, each brush of his lips drawing more heat to the surface. I gasped against him, and he used the moment to taste me deeper, his tongue brushing against mine in a slow, claiming stroke.
My pulse hammered in my ears. Every point where we touched felt hot enough to burn—the line of my thighs against his, the grip of his fingers at my hip, the solid weight of his chest against mine.
When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to let his breath fan across my lips. "Still think you smell the same?" he murmured.
"I hate you," I muttered, though my voice came out weak, thin against the weight of him.
"I would hate me too," he said, his mouth twisting into that infuriating smirk before leaning in again.
I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away. "What are you hiding from me now?" He jokingly muttered.
"Well, obviously, you're so untrained," I shot back, forcing myself to meet his gaze again. My breathing was still uneven, chest rising too fast.
The space between us dissolved. That same heat soft, heavy, and dangerously washed over me again, curling low in my stomach. My limbs felt useless, my body slack under the pull of his pheromones, the air around us thick with it. It was like every part of me was wired to react to him.
"You smell so tempting," he murmured, voice low and rough, before his teeth caught my neck again.
A sharp gasp left me as his mouth worked over my skin;biting, sucking, then soothing the sting with slow drags of his tongue. His hands moved with a kind of restless certainty, one sliding up under the hem of my shirt, the other bracing my hip to keep me still.
My fingers curled in the fabric at his shoulders, unsure whether I wanted to push him away or drag him closer. He didn't give me the choice, his mouth left my neck only to find mine again.
This kiss was nothing like the first. There was no testing, no hesitation, just heat and hunger. His tongue slid against mine in a rhythm that made my head spin, pulling a sound from my throat I didn't mean to make.
He pressed me deeper into the mattress, his body fitted hard against mine, his thigh sliding between my legs in a way that stole the air from my lungs. His hand on my waist tightened, pulling me against him until the friction made my pulse stutter.
Every brush of his lips, every scrape of his teeth was deliberately meant to make me unravel. My hands finally gave in, sliding up into his hair, tugging when his mouth claimed mine deeper, harder.
When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips were still brushing mine, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Still hate me?"
My unstable breathing as I glare at him. I couldn't answer or more so didn't want to.
He laughed as he got off the bed, fixing his pants before settling into the chair by my desk. Stretching his arms out again, he nodded toward the jacket still on his shoulders.
"Don't you have to take this in?"
I stood, fingers combing through my hair, trying to smooth the spots pressed flat against the bed. My legs still felt faintly shaky;annoyingly so. I gave him the middle finger and marched to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. His laugh followed me in.
I leaned back against the door for a second before walking to the sink. My reflection made me pause. My lips were red, a little swollen, my cheeks flushed in a way no amount of cold water could hide.
The inhibitor sat on the counter beside the faucet, small and unassuming. Pointless. He could sense my pheromones whether I used it or not.
I splashed water on my face, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, but the heat threatened to crawl back under my skin anyway. There was still work to finish.
Back at the mannequin, I pulled the jacket from Kenan's shoulders. The fabric was heavier than it looked, a deep blue wool blend, lined with soft satin. Setting it on the mannequin's frame, I smoothed the shoulders, checking the seams for any pull. I tugged the fabric gently across the chest, noting where it needed more taper.
"Arms out," I said, measuring again for the sleeves. "You've got about half an inch of extra length here." I pinned it, the silver tips catching the light, then adjusted the lapel so it sat clean and even.
Kenan stayed quiet, leaning back in the chair, watching me work with that unreadable look that was somehow more distracting than if he'd been talking.
By the time the sun dipped low, the last stitches were done. Kenan put the jacket back on, this time fitting perfectly to his frame. I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my mouth.
"Alright," I said, stepping back to take him in. "Just need a picture and I'm done."
The words felt strange like I'd been carrying them in my mouth for weeks and finally let them out.
I grabbed my phone, camera ready. "We're taking it outside, in the backyard."
We were halfway to the door when I stopped, eye catching on his hair. Without a word, I dragged him to the bathroom. He stood there, patient, while I worked a touch of product through, taming the stray pieces into something sharper. We were in and out in minutes.
Outside, the first place I tried clashed too much; the pool's clear blue didn't fit the mood. I moved us toward the back corner where climbing plants framed the wall. The sun was sliding low, throwing a warm gold over him, catching in the jacket's weave.
The photos came out better than I'd hoped.
"Well, someone's happy," Kenan said, following me back inside.
"Why wouldn't I be? It's finally finished."
After a month of false starts, late nights, and nearly giving up.
It was finally completed.
"You should stay," I told him, shutting the door behind us. "It's late. It wouldn't be safe to drive."
"You care about me?" he asked, mock surprise in his voice.
No,I just don't want to be blame if anything happen to you.
"Of course I do," I said, dry as possible, heading upstairs.
I sent the photos to my laptop and fell into editing, Kenan stretched out on my bed, scrolling. The work I thought would take an hour ended up taking two, but when I finally leaned back, the last file exported, he was asleep. Peacefully, like he'd been there forever.
Neck stiff, I went to brush my teeth, splashing cool water over my face. The memories of earlier tried to creep in;heat curling in my stomach again but I shook them off, focusing on the progress bar as I hit "Submit."
Minutes later, the confirmation popped up. I smiled, bone-deep tired but light in a way I hadn't felt in weeks.
If it wasn't so late, I'd have screamed.
I didn't wake Kenan. The bed was big enough, and we'd done this before. Slipping under my blanket, I let my eyes close, the satisfaction of being done settling over me like a second comforter.
I fell asleep smiling.