Page 50 of Her Pretty Words
Her cheekbones pinken and my lips tingle like I need to kiss her blush.
“Which wall did you want to paint?” she asks, her voice soft.
I gesture to it. It’s the one closest to her house, and it’s not that big. We can paint it tonight. She must realize the same thing. “I’ll be right back. I need to find an old T-shirt.”
“I have one you can wear.” I don’t. I own less than ten shirts, all of which I wear regularly, but I want to see her in my clothes, even if she stains them with orange paint.
I return from my bedroom a moment later and hand her a black one. She puts it over her tank top. The hem reaches just above her knees, and she glances up at me. “You’re huge,” she says. I slowly grin, and her face flushes. “Don’t make it dirty.”
I feign innocence. “No clue what you mean.”
She rolls her eyes and then throws her hair into a knot above her head. A few strands come loose, falling into her face. Sometimes it’s excruciating to look at her, like my gaze alone could taint something so perfect, like spilled ink on a white tablecloth. But she is marvelous, and I can’t help but look. Maybe that makes me selfish.
She pries open the bucket of paint and then pours some into the tray. I cover the floor and put tape over the outlets, baseboards, and the part where the wall meets the ceiling. By the time everything is prepped, more strands have found their way into Macy’s face, and my shirt is so baggy on her that her legs look like two toothpicks sticking out from beneath it. I grab my phone and snap a photo of her. She’s shooting me a glare, and I take another. It takes us a little over an hour to cover the wall in paint, and once we are done, we’re both shiny with sweat.
Both my shirts are ruined—the one I wear and the one I gave to Macy. I set the paint roller down and pull her to me by her hands. The smallest bit of paint is dried in her eyebrow. I rub itaway with my thumb and her eyes fall shut. She ever so slightly leans into my touch.
Every moment spent with her is a new experience. Simplicities, like having someone to enjoy the feel of my touch, is unfamiliar.
I admire her standing in front of me, letting me hold her face. Her eyes open. Her chest heaves as if she’s been running, and her vanilla scent is stronger when she steps closer to me. I’m pleased that she hasn’t shied away from me. My touch is featherlight as I run my thumb over her jaw.
With my eyes glued to hers, I kneel steadily. My knees touch the floor and her throat bobs. I suppress my grin and feign confusion for her sudden breathlessness. “Why do you look so scared, Mace. I was only picking this up.” I hold my phone up for her to see, then stand to my full height, towering over her once again. I put the device in my pocket.
A crease forms between her eyebrows, and then she moves to step away from me, but I grab her wrist and pull her mouth to mine.
She claims my lips with the same fire she always gives me and I’m feverish because of it. I quickly throw my hat off, my hair probably looking as disheveled as I feel. She runs her hands beneath my shirt, and when I nip at her bottom lip, she digs her nails into my skin. I groan and she answers me with a lovely sound that I etch to memory. This kiss is a duel, and right now she’s winning because I will yield to her every want.
She backs us up until she’s pressed against my sliding glass door. I remove my hands from her body and press them against the cold door, framing her face.
She places her palm over my racing heart and then descends it down my body teasingly. The muscles in my abdomen are flexing against her touch, and I’m completely at her mercy when she reaches the top of my pants. She’s watching me with intent.
Like a moth to a flame, I’d willingly burn just to be closer to her.
When her hands stroke me over the denim of my jeans, the friction causes my head to fall between her shoulder and neck. It shouldn’t feel this good with so many layers between us. “Reluctantly, I need to ask you to stop doing that or this is going to end far too quickly.”
She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Even if it’s at my expense, I’ll gladly be the cause of it. “You find this funny, do you? Your touch is going to be my defeat.”
Her cheeks go crimson and this time I do kiss them. “Do you trust me?” I ask.
She nods her head, and then gasps as I guide her hips to turn her around, so her back is to me. I grab her hands and press them against the glass, covering them with mine. No one can see us. I’ve had these windows tinted for privacy. I breathe against the side of her neck where I know she likes being kissed. I’m pleased by her shiver. I’ve mapped out every sensitive point on her body.
I drag the tip of my finger down the back of her neck. “I’d like my shirt back now,” I say, toying with the collar. She slowly lifts it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind us.
She puts her hands back on the glass. I place mine beside hers, my thumbs brushing the back of her littlest fingers. My bottom lip feathers down her pulse and over her shoulder. I press closer until we are flush together. I move a hand from the door to drag it over her lower belly, slowly inching beneath her tank top until I’m right below her breast. “Can I touch you here?”
Her head lulls back and she’s hasty with her nod. I grin and say in an amused voice, “You don’t seem sure. Perhaps we should sto—” She steps on my toes with such force that I hiss out a breath. “Feisty,” I purr, and then squeeze her, pleasantly surprised to find she isn’t wearing a bra. I take the sensitivepeek between my thumb and index finger. She squeezes her legs together and lets out a breath.
With my other hand, I feel the button on her denim shorts. I slowly peel them open, then take her chin between my fingers so I can see her face. “Is this all right?”
“Ye—” I kiss her before she can finish the word, and her lips form a smile against mine.
I dip my hand into her shorts, palming her over her underwear. My forehead falls into her vanilla scented hair. “You’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on,” I say in a grainy voice. I pull her shorts down her legs. She turns her head to look at me. “I’m not going to be the only one losing clothes this time.”
I smirk. “If you want to see me naked, Mace, all you need to do is ask.” I pull my shirt off. She’s impossibly closer than before. We’re both breathing heavily. She places her hands over mine as I explore her body. I trail the tips of my fingers down her torso, playing with the hem of her underwear until she squirms against me. She squeezes my hand.
I whisper against her ear, “What do you want?”
“You know.”