I should have asked her out a long time ago. Should have told her instead of chickening out with a “fake” relationship. I never should have let it get to the point where we’re kissing and holding each other, being so close when she doesn’t have a clue how I really feel about her. She deserves to never have to wonder. She should always know I’m one hundred percent gone for her.
I shake my head, slowly dragging the tip of my nose across hers. “No.”
“Neither do I.”
She leans up to press her mouth to mine. A groan gusts out of me, relief, longing, and sheer desperation mixing together. She’s all sweet softness, her lips brushing over mine in gentle kisses designed to unravel me piece by piece. My fingers sift into her hair, my other hand flexing on her hip, drawing her closer until we’re flush against each other.
She slants her mouth over mine, opening up to me like a gift. It’s been weeks since I kissed her, and I’m ready to make up for lost time. I trace one hand down the slender column of her neck, my fingers lightly exploring. The other slides up her back, memorizing the shape of her body. She’s an undiscovered country to traverse, every touch revealing something new to wonder over.
Her satiny smooth skin. The softness of her hair I’m tempted to pull down from its confines and wrap around my fist. How the sound of her quick little breaths is like high-octane fuel in my veins. I want to learn every sound I can get her to make and then do it all over again.
We find a slow rhythm that’s an intoxicating taste of things to come. This isn’t just a kiss—it’s a beginning. I feel it in the steady beat of my heart against my ribcage. The flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers. The way her hands slide over my back like she’s not in control of them anymore.
Yeah. We should have done this for real a long time ago.
She finally pulls back enough to draw in a full breath. She doesn’t open her eyes right away, like she’s basking in the afterglow of the kiss and needs a minute. My heart aches for this woman even when she’s right here in my arms.
I run my thumb over her jaw, the blue paint pilling beneath my touch as I brush it away. “You’ve got some paint right here.”
“Mmm?” She opens her eyes, blinking heavily. My smile is probably smug, but I’m not sure she even sees it, she looks sodazed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never painted walls before.”
“I have. Let’s get you fed, and then we’ll tackle the walls.”
She makes a sound like a frustrated bear cub. “Fine. But we’re doing more of that later.”
She won’t have to drag me kicking and screaming. “Whatever you want, firefly.”
We share the meal sitting close together at the table before diving in on the paint job. I assess the materials she’s gathered, but she’s collected a good assortment of paintbrushes, spare rollers, and latex gloves to protect her hands. “For never doing interior painting before, you got everything you need.”
“I watched a lot of videos before I bought all this stuff.”
“When was that?”
“January. It was my New Year’s resolution.” She purses her lips, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Of last year.”
I hate that she felt she couldn’t take control of her own surroundings for so long. The urge to let her go paint-crazy in Perk Me Up is a powerful one. “You’re doing what you want now, and that’s what counts.”
I grab a step stool and cut in along the ceiling while she uses the roller on the walls. She gains more confidence with every pass, covering space more efficiently every time she reloads the roller. We make good time, transforming the walls from pure white to a pale blue that brings the room to life. My cabin proves I don’t know much about interior decorating, but I’ve helped my family paint their houses enough to see the difference a new color can make.
The sun sets, deepening the tone of the walls. The room feels calm and cozy, like a gentle breeze could blow through here any minute. It’s perfect for her.
“Do you have more paint plans after you’re done with this room?” I ask.
She runs the back of her hand across her chin, transferring afresh smudge of paint from her latex glove. “I found a rich plum for the powder room down here and a gothic floral wallpaper I want to use for the trim.”
“A gothic bathroom, huh?”
Her dimple pops out as she grins up at me. If we hadn’t just painted all the walls in here, I’d have her pushed up against one of them already, showing her how much I adore that tempting divot.
“I also found a warm blush shade for my bedroom. It will be cozy and comforting and a little sexy.”
I’m on board for the repainted bedroom.
“And for the bathroom down the hall…” She frowns at the spot on the wall she’s running the roller over. “Except, that’s silly, right? It’s my house. Maybe it’s time I switch bedrooms, too.”
I’m stupidly proud of her.
When the walls are finished and we’ve walked around the room for a spot-check, we reward ourselves with pie. She brushes wisps of hair out of her face as she peeks into the tote bag I brought.