Expensive ones.
The kinds that would have made a museum curator drool.
“You have a lot of Johannes Galileo up here.”
Paris inhaled, and Corinne looked at him. He was beet red. “So a little confession…” His eyes met hers. “I’m Johannes Galileo.”
“But he was painting hundreds of years ago…” her voice was a wondered whisper.
“Well, shifters live very long lives. It was my artist’s name.”
“If you tell me you’re Draco, too, I am going to lose it, Paris Warwick.”
He gave her a sheepish smile.
“Well, shit,” she said. “That probably explains why I always felt connected to those two painters. Because they’re you.”
Corinne hadn’t meant to say those words, of course, but she immediately saw the impact they had on Paris. He said nothing, but his green eyes got hooded and darker. He was watching her carefully.
“Corinne,” he finally said, his voice raspy and trembling. “That was a very sweet thing to say. I…I would like to kiss you. If you hadn’t asked for space, I would.”
She gulped loudly and thought about his words. In fact, her brain raced through everything. From obsessing over Galileo paintings as a teen, like they were Tiger Beat magazines, to wondering who the elusive Draco was, to meeting Paris in the club, to the amazing night they had spent together. Her hands went to Peanut. She had created a life with one of her favorite artists.
Peanut would be her life’s work, her masterpiece.
She knew that.
And it would always be connected to Paris.
“I would like that,” she whispered shyly.
Because she wanted to kiss him.
More than anything, she wanted to be in his arms again. Not just because it seemed to soothe whatever she was feeling, but because it was Paris. The man who had made love to her. The man who kept on showing up and helping her.
He had seen her puke. Shit, she had even puked in his very expensive car, and he still wanted to kiss her.
That meant something.
More than the fact that he said she was his mate.
Corinne didn’t fully understand that, but she did understand that Paris was steadily there and always taking care of her.
She had never had that before.
She felt important—loved—for the first time in her life.
It took Paris all of two seconds to scoop her up in his arms. Corinne wrapped her legs around his waist as he cupped her face to devour her mouth in the sexiest, most primal kiss she had ever experienced. Paris was everywhere, filling her spaces, even the ones she could have preferred to keep hidden.
She didn’t feel like the woman on the run, she just felt like a woman. His woman. She never wanted the moment to end.
They stood there, kissing and moaning into each other’s embraces for a long time. Corinne could feel the magical penis that wouldn’t be deterred by condoms, pressed into her side. She had missed kissing Paris.
Lord knew that she had only kissed him that one night they had shared, but now that she was kissing him again, she understood that gnawing need which had been sitting in the pit of her stomach, below the nausea.
It had been missing Paris. She had missed Paris.
“You had something to show me,” she said against his lips. “We’ll be late for Dr. Hu if we don’t leave soon.”
Paris groaned against her mouth, before placing a soft kiss on her neck. “You’re right.”
Corinne was sure he would set her down, but he didn’t. Instead, with her all wrapped up around him, he walked deeper into the penthouse. They walked down the long hallway, past a bathroom, and past a library that was also an office and a studio, judging by the paint and art supplies strewn about. They walked past the master bedroom which had a huge king-sized bed centered in the middle of the room. He walked them all the way to the very end of the hall before setting her down.
Paris opened the door and took a step into the room, before turning to face her.
Corinne gasped, her hands going to cover her mouth.
Her fingers were trembling as she looked around the room.
It was impossible.
“What…” she whispered.
The walls were painted a soft green color which was soothing and calming. One of the walls was white, but painter’s tape was set into a large frame as if Paris had plans for the space.
There was a beautiful white crib, along with a changing table and two little white dressers. There were soft-looking stuffed animals everywhere, but the one that caught her eye was an emerald dragon sitting in the crib.
The nursery was just too much for her to take.
Tears lined her eyes, and before she could brush the tears away, she hiccupped a sob. Paris rushed toward her and brushed her tears away with his thumbs.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you not like it?”
“Of course, I like it. When did you do this?” Her voice was shaky with a thousand emotions.
“Last night. I couldn't sleep.”
“But…why did you do this?
He frowned. “I wanted to. Because my kid is going to have the best I can give her. Because I already love her more than I could ever have thought possible.”
“You’re so sure it’s a girl?” She knew that she should say something else. But she was also keenly aware that if she even tried to express anything, she was likely to do something insane, like propose. Or jump his bones. She couldn’t get more pregnant than she already was.
“I want a baby girl,” Paris shrugged. “I want her to have your blue eyes and your blonde hair. But I’m not a psychic. I didn’t want to paint the room pink, and then have a baby boy.”
“I like the green,” she whispered. “It reminds me of your eyes… I kind of hope that Peanut has your eyes.”
He shook his head. “Nah, Peanut should look like her mom. A gorgeous blue-eyed beauty.”
“Well,” she conceded, before she cried even more. Seriously, the hormones were killer. Or was it normal to lose it when your one-night-stand baby daddy, turned dragon mate, decorated a nursery for your surprise baby? It was probably a mix of both. “That’s only fair if she’s going to turn into a dragon, like you.”
“Does it really scare you that much to have a shifter baby?”
Corinne looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She nodded through another sob. God, the nursery was cute. She hugged the green dragon stuffy, before laying it back down where their child would sleep. “What if the baby turns into a dragon in public and flies away, and I can’t get to her?” Paris took her in his arms and shushed her softly. “I’m serious. What if she’s in trouble, flying off somewhere, and I can’t help because I’m just a dumb mortal?”
Paris cupped her face in his hands. “Well, first of all, you are not a dumb mortal.” When she tried to argue, he shook his head. “You’re a wonderful artist, and a lovely person. Second, if Peanut decides to fly off, I will always be there to bring her back home. But remember, the first shift doesn’t happen until puberty. That means, you have plenty of time to get used to the idea of having a little dragon flying around.”
Corinne nodded. “This nursery is amazing…” She walked toward the rocking chair and rubbed the smooth wood of the arm. She could picture herself nursing the baby there. Not that she was moving in, or anything. The image had just popped into her mind, making her heart clench and kick up faster. “Thank you for this.”