Combustion (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Eli waited impatiently in the new workshop for Astrid to arrive. He couldn't remember the last time he was so excited, and he scolded himself for it. This was supposed to just be business, partnering with Astrid to solve a problem he couldn't solve on his own. Why, then, was he so nervous about what she would think?

Although he was expecting it, the doorbell made him jump. He forced himself to walk casually up the stairs, rather than racing, and waited a moment at the top before opening the door.

The night was drizzly, but not rainy enough for an umbrella, and the green wool of Astrid's cloak was dappled with a fine mist. Over her left arm she carried a worn leather bag of tools. Stepping over the threshold, she pulled back her hood, shaking out her short brown hair and looking around the dark entryway.

“You found the place easily, then?” He'd managed to find a location only a half mile away from her home, wanting her to feel comfortable there. She didn't seem to notice the hand he held out for her tool bag, so he dropped it back to his side, wanting her approval and trying not to want her approval.

“It wasn't hard. I've never been to this part of the neighborhood before, though.” She looked around the entryway. “So where is it?”

“Come with me.” Almost giddy, he led her down the dark staircase and flung open the door at the bottom.

As she followed him inside, her expression went from anticipatory to confused. Where she'd probably been expecting a workshop, they were actually standing in a small flat. She looked around at her surroundings, eyes traveling from the worn sofa and chairs near the front door, to the fire burning in the fireplace grate, to the dining room table and small kitchen.

At last, she turned to him, eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. “I don't understand. This is a flat.”

“Come with me.” Taking her hand, he led her through a doorway into what had once been a bedroom. Instead of a bedroom, though, he'd converted this room to a workshop. On one of the two long workbenches, Eli had already set out blueprint paper and pencils, straight edges, T-squares and other design tools. Hand tools lined another wall along with steel shelving units filled with brass piping and buckets of miscellaneous cogs and gears. The room was well lit, gas lanterns spaced evenly along the walls and magnified by mirrors to throw light into every corner.

“What do you think?” He swept his arm around the space. When she hesitated, he kept talking. “It was a flat, yes, but the owners haven't been able to rent it on account of it being in the basement, so they agreed to let me redo the space into a workshop.” Would she like it? She should like it. This was the riskiest venture he'd undertaken, so couldn't she appreciate that? Or for someone like her, who lived on the knife edge of business risk all the time, maybe this was nothing special.

When she turned back to him, though, her smile lit up her face. “It's perfect.” She set her bag of tools down on one of the worktables and began walking around, poking through the buckets of parts, picking up the hand tools and examining them. “How in the world did you get this put together so quickly? It's only been a few days.”

“I called in some favors.” He glossed over the truth, that he'd paid premiums and had workers in here setting up for two days straight, but he'd wanted her to be surprised. As she looked around in wonder, he knew the investment had been worthwhile.

“So this space is ours as long as we need it?”

Eli nodded. “I thought about only renting it through May 27th, which is the Judges' Viewing, but I didn't know if we might need it after that, so I rented it through June 3rd just to be sure. I figure we'll be finished by then, since it's opening night of the Fair.”

Astrid finished her inspection, then drew up a stool at the table and pulled out her blueprints. “Well, then, we'd better win.”

Eli pulled his stool up right near her and tacked down the corners of the large blueprint. She smelled good. He looked sideways at her profile, admiring the curve of her long neck, wondering despite himself what it would be like to kiss it. That line of thought was dangerous. To distract himself, he picked up a pencil and began tapping on the table. “Let's talk about this design.”

Astrid scanned the drawing. “I'm not sure what you want to talk about.”

“Well, what's our ultimate goal for this machine?”

“That it wins the World's Fair, obviously.” Astrid gave him a look that implied she thought he'd suddenly lost his wits.

“No, you misunderstand me.” He tapped the design with his pencil. “I mean, what do we want this machine to do? What's our desired outcome?” He leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting on the table, and looked directly into her eyes, which narrowed as she considered his question.

Astrid shrugged. “Pleasure. It's supposed to be the ultimate pleasure machine.”

Eli smiled. “And what gives a woman pleasure?”

Astrid paused. “Are you asking me what feels good?”

What did feel good to her? If, for instance, he was to lean across the space between them and capture her lips with his, would she kiss back? Would she moan into his mouth, slipping one hand up to twist in his hair? “You can answer hypothetically if you want. You're the expert. You build tools for women's pleasure all the time.”

Folding her arms, Astrid sat up straighter in her chair, looking as if she were guarding herself. “All right. The clitoris is a woman's pleasure center.” She cast him a sidelong glance with one raised eyebrow. “I assume you've heard of it?”

Oh, cheeky. “Yes, thanks. We've met.”

Returning her gaze to the paper, she smiled. “Just making sure. Most men haven't.”

Really? She wanted to go down that road? He turned to look at her. “Well, there's a pretty big assumption.”

Astrid's smirk didn't fade. “Listen, if all gentlemen knew where the clitoris was, I wouldn't be selling so many felicitation machines to unhappy women. Can I continue?”

She had a point. “Please.”

Astrid picked up her own pencil and tapped the end against her lips, thinking, and his cock twitched inside his trousers. What would those lips feel like wrapped around his shaft? And why was he even thinking of it? He realized she was talking and forced himself to listen. “…so clitoral stimulation is key. A woman can certainly handle that herself, but if we're designing a machine to take care of things, it should
really
take care of things.”

“Is it better to do it yourself, or if the machine does it for you?” The question slipped out before he'd even thought about whether or not it was appropriate. He'd been wondering since first hearing about her felicitation devices. “Or maybe if
someone else
does it for you?”

Astrid seemed to consider his question, pursing her lips in thought as she tapped her pencil against them. She was actually going to answer him. “Well, for me, it depends on my mood. I always know what I like. There's no guessing required. I don't have to hope someone else hits the right spot, or try and explain exactly what I'm looking for. But the surprise is nice sometimes too. I don't get the surprise when I'm doing it myself.”

Curious, he pressed on. “But what about the machines? That's a different situation, isn't it?”

“My toys don't get tired. And they leave my hands free for other things. I have too many sensitive areas to try not to reach all of them.” When she smiled at him, eyes sparkling and full of mischief, it was all he could do not to bend her over the worktable and take her right there. What had gotten into him? He hadn't felt lust—pure, unbridled lust—in what felt like months. Why was he feeling it now when he most needed to focus? This was a dangerous path he was treading; he was starting to want her and he certainly couldn't have her.

With effort, he brought himself back to the moment. She'd been talking about hands-free pleasure. “So the machine needs to provide…”

“…clitoral stimulation, yes. A ridge, or knob, or something similar. Very important.”

“All right.” Eli sketched a ridge onto her design where he imagined it would need to be, deliberately not thinking how it would nestle between her folds, pressing against her and making her gasp. He licked his dry lips and looked back up. “What else?”

Astrid tapped the place where she'd drawn the shaft on the saddle. “It feels good to get fucked. Penetrated.”

Did she really just say that? Eli blinked, his composure at risk of dissolving completely. “It's not something I can relate to. I've wondered what it's like for you women.”

Astrid bit her lower lip and smirked. “There are ways for you to find out.”

Of course she would take it in that direction when he was trying to keep himself together. The “no” was on his lips, but he paused, wondering what it would be like to yield to her in that way. Eli hesitated only a moment, but it was enough for Astrid to give him a knowing look.

He shook his head, feeling hot all over. “It's not the same, and you know it.”

Astrid shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you have all sorts of plumbing that I don't have and can't relate to, so I guess we're even. Besides, that's why we can have so much fun together.” She winked, and at his confused expression, she added, “Hypothetical men and hypothetical women, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” What was she playing at? Was she actually trying to seduce him, or just flirting? He wasn't used to women being so forward. Wasn't used to women at all, actually, not in this scenario. Not anymore.

Astrid looked back down at the design. “Well, I suppose that's everything, right?”

Eli looked at her, incredulous. “That's it? You have some amazing machines back at your flat, and you want the bare minimum for this? That's not exciting at all. I thought you were more creative than this. Guess I was wrong. Disappointing.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.

Astrid sat back and folded her arms, tossing her pencil down onto the table. “All right. As the person who is not female, tell me what we're missing.”

“No, you're the expert here, apparently. You tell me.”

Their eyes met and locked, neither looking away, each challenging the other to take this further. Astrid smiled, then, a catlike, predatory smile that sent a sudden wave of anxiety through him. She leaned closer. “You know, maybe I should tell you what turns me on. For the sake of our research.”

Oh yes, please. He could see her face flush, color spreading across her cheeks and ears, down to the swells of her breasts, and his hands ached to touch them. But…no. This was a terrible idea. “I don't think that's appropriate, Astrid.”

Leaning in closer, she rested her hand casually on his knee, the warmth burning right through his trousers. What was she doing? “Oh, come on, Eli. Nothing we're doing is appropriate.”

“And that's the problem.” Brushing her hand away, he scooted back, annoyed despite himself. “What are you getting at here?”

Astrid rested her head on her hand, leaning on the worktable. “Listen, you can deny it all you want, but there's something here between us. And that pisses me off more than anything else, since you're prudish and self-righteous and more than a bit sexist, and I'd like nothing more than to keep you at a distance. But since that clearly isn't going to happen, I figure we might as well fuck and get it out of our systems.”

He stared at her, his mouth going dry, as he imagined taking her hard against the wall, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her tight pussy clenching around him as she cried out in breathy little moans. Swallowing hard, he tried to gather his composure, tried to think of what to say, but found himself opening and closing his mouth without saying anything.

For a moment, her flirtatious veneer fell away, and he saw a flash of vulnerability on her face. She looked away. “Well, if you don't want to, then fine. I thought you were attracted to me.”

He laughed, a short, incredulous bark of disbelief, getting to his feet. “You think this is because I'm not attracted to you?” And before he could stop himself, before he thought of all the reasons why this was a terrible idea, he pulled her up to her feet and crushed her mouth to his. Oh God, she tasted so sweet, and her hands trembled on his shoulders before wrapping around him. He kissed her soundly, cupping the back of her head with one hand, holding her body firmly against him with one arm wrapped around her waist. Her lips parted and he ran his tongue against hers, angling his head to deepen the kiss. When he cupped her ass, she moaned into his mouth.

Eli wanted more, now, wanted to take Astrid on the workbench or on the floor, to unfasten her corset and hike up her skirt and have her moaning and gasping and spasming around him. When she pulled him flush against her, he knew she could feel his arousal pressing into her stomach. She arched against him.

No. He shouldn't start down this path. Pulling back, breathless, he practically pushed her away from him as he struggled to compose himself. She stared up at him, dazed, blinking heavy-lidded eyes.

“I can't do this.” He turned away, steadying himself. “I can't take advantage of you.”

Whatever response he was expecting, it wasn't laughter. When he turned, she was giggling behind her hand, mirth twinkling in her eyes.

“Is something funny?” The question came out more sharply than he intended, but she still seemed amused.

“It's just that you're such a prude!”

“Will you stop saying that?” Anger blossomed in his chest as he tried not to think of other times he'd been called the same.

“I'm sorry. You really think you're taking advantage of me?” Astrid looked skyward, still laughing. “I've been trying to seduce you since I walked in the door.”

None of this made any sense. “But your reputation. You can't take a strange man home with you.”