“I know. It is weird. But I like it. I like it a lot.” He rubs his shoulder with his hand. “Damn, I’m already sore. I told Aria I would pay someone to do this. She refused, because that’s Aria. And you got suckered in too.”
“There isn’t a lot I won’t do for pizza and wine.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He grins at me with a devil-may-care sparkle to his cobalt eyes. “Incidentally, you look beautiful with paint all over your face.”
“Oh yeah?” A bark of a laugh flees my lungs. “An improvement, is it?”
“Well.” He hums in the back of his throat. “I’m not sure.” Then he takes his brush and paints a long line down my exposed arm. It’s cold. And wet. And freaking slimy. “Now it’s an improvement.”
“Didn’t you just say you don’t want a fight?”
“Any chance I get to tangle with you, I’m going to take. Floors be damned.”
I cock an unamused eyebrow, going back to the wall and ignoring him. The moment the fool does the same, I take my roller and swipe it all down his back.
Hissing between his teeth, he leaps forward from the shock of it, nearly smacking into the wall.
“Oops. Sorry. I hope you didn’t like that shirt.”
“No. Not at all,” he says casually. Too casually.
My heart starts to thunder a drumroll as we both return to painting the wall while I surreptitiously watch him out of the corner of my eye. Wondering just how he’s going to retaliate. Knowing he almost certainly will.
“Relax, Angel. I think we’re even,” he claims only to roll right into me, pressing his back to my front, and covering the entire chest of my shirt in paint.
I squeal out, laughing hysterically as I try to push him off, swatting at him with my roller, no doubt flicking paint all over the place. He spins around, his hands encircling my waist, his paintbrush now slathering my back.
“Oh my god! I cannot believe you just did that,” I shriek, bucking away from the brush on my back and inadvertently pressing my chest into him.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, dipping in toward me. “But look how pretty you are coated in my paint.” Holy shit. My face flames at the drop in his voice and dirty smirk on his lips. “How easy such a sweet girl can get dirtied up by a bad boy like me.” His nose drops in, skating up along the column of my neck, and I do everything I can to suppress my moan. “If only I were allowed to really dirty you up again, Angel.” He takes a deep inhale of my skin. “Think how fun that would be.”
Heat swarms through me, tightening my empty core and hardening my nipples.
“Brecken,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, needy.
“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that. It’s the one regret I have about the first time we were together.”
Oh god. I have to stop this.
“I should go get cleaned up. Your sister and Wes will be back any second.”
My words have my intended effect. A low, harsh growl keens from under his breath, and he slowly peels himself away. But his eyes. Those eyes are dark and dangerous, and all I want to do right now is fall into them. Get lost in the silent promise of pleasure he’s desperate to give.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Yes. I had to.”
“What if I don’t care anymore about that, Rina?”
“I do, Brecken.”
Another growl. “Use the bathroom down here. I’ll bring you a clean shirt.”
I swallow thickly and force myself to take a step back and then another. I don’t dare breathe out until I know it’s safe, and then I turn, heading straight for the powder room on the first floor.
Entering the bathroom, I shut the door and immediately turn on the water, twisting the lever to warm. My heart is racing in my chest, my body tingling with the assertion in his words.
What if I don’t care anymore about that, Rina?
Jesus.
And the way he touches me. Looks at me. Inhales me. Fuck. I want it. I want it all. I want to be consumed by every inch of Brecken Davenport. Christ, I’m pulsing with the need of it.
What is it about him? He hardly even has to try with me.
Forcing my gaze up, I take in my image as a bubble of laughter escapes my lips. My face is covered with streaks of paint. My chest too, and I spin around, twisting my head over my shoulder to catch the reflection of my back which is absolutely saturated.
Turning back around, I start to wash my hands and face under the water when I hear a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call out, though suddenly my nerves have ratcheted back up. Brecken steps in, shutting the door behind him with a soft click that seems to reverberate through the small bathroom at a deafening decibel.
“I brought you a shirt.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror for a flicker of a second before returning immediately to the sink. “Thank you.” Only he doesn’t leave. He stands behind me, watching me remove the last of the paint from my face and hands, instead of setting the shirt down on the small shelf in the corner and leaving. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting on you to finish up at the sink. I figure I might as well use this bathroom too instead of getting mine upstairs filled with paint.”
Oh. Okay. I guess that makes sense.
He sets the shirt that I’ll be wearing down on the edge of the sink. Then he proceeds to reach behind his head and pull his off, rolling it in a ball, and dropping it to the tile floor.
My breath lodges in my chest.
Holy hell, Brecken’s chest.
If I thought it looked good three years ago, it’s absolutely incredible now. Broad shoulders and thick arm muscles. Well-defined pecs that slope down into a six-pack of bricks and sexy as all sin V that would make Zac Ephron jealous. Brecken doesn’t have much chest hair. Just a small trail that leads from the base of his navel into his jeans.
Mother of all that is holy, I want to run my fingers through it. Tickle my fingers up along that V while I run my tongue down the center of his abs.
“Let me know when you’re done drooling and I’ll put on my shirt.”
Cocky jerk.
“You’re covered in paint still. I’d wait to wash up first if I were you.”
He chuckles lightly. “You’re hogging the sink. You should probably take off your shirt too, you know.”
He’s right. I should. There is no other way I’m going to get all this paint cleaned off me otherwise. Especially since I know some of it has seeped through the cotton of my shirt, coating my back and belly.
Well, I guess two can play at this game.
“Will you wipe down my back for me?” And before he can answer, I peel off my sodden shirt, same as he did, tossing it down on top of his.
He sucks in a rush of air through his teeth, clearly not expecting me to follow through. His eyes find mine in the mirror, and if I thought they were dark and heated before, I was wrong. The smoldering look he’s giving me right now is downright carnal. He holds my gaze for a very long moment, the only sound between us is water spilling into the basin and down the drain.
Slowly. Deliberately, his gaze wanders, caressing every single inch of my bra-covered breasts, belly, and hips. His hands shoot out and for a moment I think he’s going to touch me, knowing that if he does, this will get out of control in seconds. Only instead he goes for a folded washcloth on the shelf, unraveling it and stepping forward to reach around me to wet it.