“So, what do I have to do?” he asked.
“Put your hands on mine.”
I put my foot on the pedal, and when the ball of clay began to spin, I placed my hands firmly on the squidgy lump. Drew’s hands covered mine. “What are we making?”
“I hadn’t decided. Maybe a vase?”
“Sounds good. Not very manly, though.”
“You don’t need to worry about feeling manly while you’re sitting behind me, half naked.”
Drew laughed. He pressed his cheek against mine, grazing me with his stubble. “I’m wearing underwear, Ells.”
For now.
“Anyway,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s do this. I’ll work the clay a bit, then you can take over.”
I dipped my thumbs into the top of the clay to create an opening, then let my fingers run around the edge, pulling it up slowly until it looked less like a ball and more like the beginning of a work of art. I carefully took one hand away, letting Drew’s left hand touch the pot while keeping it steady with my right.
“This feels weird.” He started to pull back, but I trapped him in place.
“No. Don’t let go. You have to be firm.”
He rested his chin on my shoulder. “If this didn’t feel so disgusting, I’d tell you to stop talking dirty. This isn’t sexy at all.”
“Shut up. You wanted to help.”
“Sorry. What do I do now?”
“I’m going to let go, and you’re going to take control.”
Drew’s lips brushed against my neck. “Okay, that was sexy.”
I tipped my head back, allowing myself to relish in the feel of his kiss. Would there ever be a time I tired of his mouth on my skin? I couldn’t imagine it. I wanted more. More kisses. More of him.
“Pottery isn’t supposed to be sexy,” I told him, with as much conviction as I could while his lips turned me into a quivering mess. “It’s relaxing.”
“Uh-huh,” he murmured, close to my ear. “And are you relaxed?”
“Drew!” I wailed, very aware of the spinning half-vase in my hands.
I’d never hated an inanimate object more in my life.
“Okay, okay,” Drew said, but I heard him trying to hold in a laugh. “I’ll take control. Of the vase.”
“Thank you. I’m letting go now. Keep your hands right on it, don’t ease the pressure.”
I slid my hand out, but the second I did, our masterpiece folded in on itself, making it look more like a deformed jug than a vase. Loose bits of clay flew across the room and splattered against the walls.
“Was I a bit too firm?” Drew asked, shifting so his legs wrapped around me from behind, and I felt his… firmness pressing into my back.
We’d had a rough day, and maybe we should have talked about what would happen next with Jason, the band, and keeping me out of the spotlight. Instead, we were messing around in my work room, throwing out more double entendres than a Carry On film.
It was exactly what we needed to lighten up an otherwise dark day. Talking could wait.
“Just a tad.”
He grinned as I turned to face him. “Can we try again?”