I like him like this. He seems lost in his thoughts. I know he once came down here to be alone, but I love to watch him work. I think he works better with me down here. At least, it seems like he does.
His movements are quick and calculated, each push and pull of the sander going the way he intended. The sweat dripping off his forehead adds to the rhythm as it hits the boat frame. His hair is damp from the sweat, and it's starting to smell like him all over the room now. His eyes never leave his tool, not once looking up. He knows I'm down here, though; he seems to work with more rhythm when I come down.
Last time I wanted his attention, I talked. That was a bad idea, but it had ended well. This time, I set my mug on the table and walk up to him. I hate stopping him; he looks so sexy when he works on his boat. I have to admit, the smell of sawdust is very sexy, especially when it's mixed with his scent. I wrap my arms slowly around his tight abs. He sets down his sander, takes a deep breath, and turns to face me.
I lean in and give him a kiss. His lips have beads of sweat dripping down them, softening them. I let up and look in his eyes. We've been on a case for the last few days. Everything ended well, but I've missed him so much.
As he stares back into my eyes I can see he feels the same way. He came
down here to get his mind off the case-he always does that, not wanting to go to bed with it running through his mind. He cups a hand along the back of my neck and kisses me deeply, only stopping to drag me up the stairs and close the door.
I love this man, more than anything or anyone. There is nothing that would tear him from me, and there is no way I'm leaving him, not ever.