Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“Jessica,” he said. “I called her.”
That surprised me. “Jessica hates you.”
“I know,” he said. “She didn’t want to talk to me at first. I may have threatened her a little bit.”
My eyes widened. “Did you hurt her?”
He gave a low laugh, shaking his head.
“Not that kind of threat.”
“What kind of threat?” I asked, eyes wide.
“I threatened to call someone,” he said. “Maybe send him some pictures, that’s all. You don’t want to know—trust me.”
“Is this about all those years ago, when you and Jess—”
“No,” he said firmly, cutting me off. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just let it go—when she’s ready to tell you, she will. Or not. Either way, I used it against her last night, and I don’t regret that at all. I was still pissed with you, by the way—but after a few hours of painting I got over it, and then I was just relieved you weren’t with another guy.”
I studied his face, taking in the high cheekbones, his crystal blue eyes, and pale skin. “We’re really lucky Izzy got my skin. You never tan.”
He laughed again. “You’re punch-drunk.”
I shrugged, then sat down suddenly. Okay, “sat” was probably a stretch—it was more like my legs gave out, but with a controlled landing. Painter lowered himself next to me.
Looking at the cans of paint, I saw a small red one not far away and grabbed it.
“Do you remember that night you taught me how to paint ladybugs?”
“Vividly. One of the best nights of my life.”
“Do you think I could paint one on Izzy’s wall?”
Painter stared at me, assessing. “You know, with anyone else I’d say yes, but I’m kind of scared you’ll give her nightmares. Zombie mutant ladybugs or something. Maybe if we did it together?”
I frowned, but he had a point.
“Okay, show me.”
“Sure,” he said, glancing around. There was a pile of smaller brushes near the wall. He leaned over on his knees to grab one, then sat back down. Prying off the lid, he opened the can and handed me the brush.
“Let me find something for you to practice on.”
I dipped the brush into the paint, letting the bright red drip slowly from the bristles back into the can. So much had happened over the years together—hard to wrap my head around all of it.
“I’d do it again, you know,” I said suddenly. Painter glanced at me, a question in his eyes.
“All of it,” I clarified. “I’d do it all over again. Us. I can’t imagine life without Izzy. Having her made me stronger—I don’t think I’d have gotten this far if it wasn’t for her. It was worth it, even all the fighting with you.”
Painter smiled, then shook his head. “You would’ve accomplished all kinds of things, no matter what.”
I raised the brush, studying the color. He was right about the ladybugs—if I tried to paint something on the wall, I’d give Izzy all kinds of nightmares. Biting my lip, I studied his face. Then I leaned over and drew a bright red line down the length of his nose.
Painter blinked.
“Why the hell did you just do that?”
“You painted me,” I said. “Remember? You practiced on me all those years ago. Now I think you should let me practice on you.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and then he dropped his hands to the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
“All yours, babe.”
Biting back a laugh, I dipped my brush again and drew a circle around first one nipple, then the other. I followed this with a broad semicircle across his stomach.
“Look, it’s a smiley face.”
He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t stop me when I dipped the brush again, this time painting a line down the length of his arm. I loved his arms—they were strong, roped with thick muscle. If I had to fall in love with an asshole, at least he was a hot asshole.
“Glad you think I’m hot,” Painter said, and I blinked.
“I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud.”
He leaned forward and kissed me slowly. Oh, that was nice . . . I kissed him back and he caught me by the waist, dragging me over to straddle his body. I deepened the kiss, savoring his taste. How had I ever convinced myself I could live without this? Then Painter was pulling my scrub top up and over my head. Reaching around behind my back, I unhooked my bra without letting his lips go, launching myself back into him with enough force to push him over backward with a thump.
We both burst out laughing, which didn’t stop him from grabbing my scrub bottoms and shoving them down, too. I kicked them free, sitting up and reaching for his fly. He scrambled to help me, and then his cock sprang out, hard and ready to go.
This was what I wanted.