Page 144 of Breakaway Hearts
I love the idea of having a library in our house. The image of it makes me feel like a Disney princess, like I could frolic and spin on ladders while singing a song about all the cliterature I love to read.
“Of course I’m serious. Would I ever tease you, Firefly?”
I slant a look at him. “Yes. And you do. Regularly.”
He gives me a lopsided grin, that charming smile that I’ll never be able to get enough of. “True. But only in the way you like.” His expression turns positively filthy, leaving no doubt in my mind as to what he’s referring to, and then he chuckles and adds, “But I’d never tease you about books. I take those very seriously.”
I pick up a box of my art supplies, which I kept separate from everything else, then glance around the living room, my brows furrowed.
“Huh. When I was here before, I had my painting stuff set up in the corner of my room, but now that we’re gonna be sharing, I don’t want to crowd you or get in your way. Maybe I could use the sunroom at the back of the house? Would that be okay?”
Reese gives me a strange, slightly cryptic smile. “Nah. I have a better idea. Come with me.”
He plucks the box out of my arms and gestures for me to follow him as he heads for the stairs. Curious, I trail after him as he makes his way to the second floor and then to the guest room he set me up in initially.
“Oh,” I say as he opens the door. And then all the breath whooshes out of my lungs in a soft, “Ohhh…”
The bed is gone, replaced by canvases of every size. The carpet is gone, replaced by a beautiful hardwood. A couch sits against the wall opposite the canvases, and a long table is set against another wall, its surface covered with brushes, palettes, sketchbooks, pencils, and dozens of varieties of paints. There are even a few painting smocks laid out. A window has even been added to the room to let in more natural light.
My jaw drops, words completely escaping me. I don’t know if I could say anything if I tried.
“I hope you like it.” Reese gives me a smile that’s almost shy as he takes my box of art supplies out of my limp arms and sets it next to the table. “I looked up what an artist needs for their studio, but if you don’t like something, let me know, and I’ll have it changed. I had extra ventilation added and had the walls painted white because I thought you might want to paint them yourself or make a mural or hang stuff or something, but if you want a specific color and don’t want to do it, I can hire someone—”
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
He bites his lower lip. “You don’t like it?”
I shake my head. “No! Iloveit. I… Reese, I can’t… when did you do this? I’m here all the time, I…”
“I hired some people to come in every day while you were at school.” He scratches the back of his head and looks down at the floor, a flush painting his cheeks. “I wanted it to be a surprise, and since you’re over here so much, I had to be sneaky. That’s why I kept wanting to sleep at your place last week,” he admits with a chuckle. “To give them extra time to finish before you moved in. I hope you’re not mad that I didn’t consult with you first, but I wanted it to be a surpr—”
Before he can finish, I throw myself into his arms, knocking the breath out of both of us. He squeezes me tightly and rests his chin on top of my curls.
“It’s the best surprise ever. I had no idea you were doing this,” I say into his chest. “You put so much thought into it. God, it’s amazing. I love it.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “I’d knock out a whole wall if you wanted me to. I’d tear down this house and make it into a gallery if that’s what you want.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t need all that. Just you. Just this.”
He pulls away, looking down at me with warm, hungry eyes as he cradles my jaw in both hands and tilts my head up. I rise up to meet him as he drops his head, going up onto my tiptoes as our lips meet.
The kiss starts out gentle and sweet, but when his tongue slides against mine, I can’t help but let out a little whimper. He groans, and before I know it, he’s turning me and walking me backward a few steps until I’m pinned against the wall, his hand gripping my waist.
“Goddamn, Firefly, when you say things like that?” he growls against my lips. “When you make those hot as hell little noises and tell me you love me? It makes me want to fuck you senseless, right here in this studio.”
I gasp when his fingers graze my nipple through my shirt. He sucks on the skin of my neck before trailing little bites along my collarbones in the way he knows drives me crazy.
“Right here?” I ask, an innocent note in my voice even as I arch against him, begging for more. “Up against the wall, you mean? Or are you going to bend me over that couch and fuck me from behind? Or maybe press me up against the window so that the whole world can see you claim what’s yours?”
“Fuck,” he groans. “Yes. All of that. I want to fuck you everywhere, you dirty girl. To christen every inch of your new studio until you’re sweaty and sated and stuffed full of my cum.”
He kisses me harder and slides his hand beneath my shirt, his warm fingers drifting over my stomach. He fondles my breast, playing with my nipples and eliciting plaintive whimpers from me. He chuckles, and when I press my hand against his stiff cock, he lets out a groan that makes my knees weak.
“Can never get enough of you,” he murmurs as he moves his hand to the waistband of my jeans. “I’m fucking addicted to you.”
I smile. “That makes two of us.”
“Damn,” a feminine voice drawls. “At least lock the door first, you two.”