His timid eyes urged me as he said, “And now?”
I sighed as I absentmindedly dipped the brush in paint. “And now,” I led in, “I know I can stand on my own. No matter what happens, I’ll be okay.”
He looked back to the wall, responding almost sadly. “Of course you will.” And then he asked, “So are you happy?” He repeated my own question to him back to me, and I wondered why he asked that. I’d just said I’d be okay.
But I guess he knew that didn’t exactly mean I was happy, either.
No.
No, I wasn’t happy. He had been a piece of the puzzle, and nothing had filled the space in his absence.
I ignored the question and kept painting.
“Do you have anyone out there now?” I ventured. “Anyone you’re seeing?”
I brushed the wall in short, quick strokes, like I was petting Madman, as I watched him warily.
He dipped the brush into the paint. “After I saw that you’d moved on, I tried to as well,” he told me. “I’ve seen a couple of women since then, but . . .” He stopped and gave me a teasing sideways glance. “No one’s waiting for me.”
I cocked an eyebrow, digging the brush into the wall. A couple of women.
Now I was jealous.
“I’m proud of you for getting into Stanford.” He changed the subject, throwing me off. “Are you excited?” he asked.
I nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Yeah, I am. It’ll be a lot of work, but I thrive on it, so . . .” I trailed off, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I did want to go to California. And I definitely wanted to go to medical school. But I didn’t want to think about how things were changing forever back here. My dad’s marriage. The house going on the market. Having Jared close, but not having Jared.
He stopped painting and looked at me pointedly. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem,” I retorted.
He approached me, cocking his head like he knew I was lying. Like he knew I still wasn’t happy.
I lifted my shoulders to my ears, denying it. “I said there’s no problem!” I laughed and then looked down. “And you’re dripping all over my feet!”
I curled in my toes as paint from his brush fell onto my skin.
“Oh, shit,” he said in surprise and lifted the brush up, smacking me in the face.
I growled, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Oh, shit!” Jared blurted out again, laughing. “I’m sorry. It honestly was an accident.”
“Yeah.” I opened my eyes again, squinting through the paint covering my lashes on my left eye. “Accidents happen.”
And then I shot out, running my paintbrush down his face and chest, sending him rearing backward.
“No!” he shouted, holding out his hands and still laughing. “Stop!”
I lunged for him again, and he darted out his paint brush, wetting my arm.
I scowled. “Ugh!” I barked. “You’re going to pay for that!”
And I raced after him as he dashed into the foyer. Reaching out my arm, I caught him on the back, swiping my brush up and making the tree tattooed there look a little snow covered.
He swung around and grabbed my wrist, pulling my back into his chest.
I squirmed, sending his brush falling to the area rug.
“Let go!” he ordered, tickling my sides. “Drop it now!”
“No!” I laughed, keeping my elbows locked at my sides to shield myself from his attack.
He grabbed my wrist, pulled it up, exposing my underarm, and tickled. I hunched over, crying out in a mix of terror and delight as my own paintbrush fell to the floor.
“Jared! Stop!” I shouted, my stomach tight with laughing so hard.
He let go, wrapping both of his arms around my waist, and we just stood there, breathing hard as we tried to calm down.
It felt so good. Having fun with him again.
I laid my arms on his, my breath catching in my throat but my heart still racing as I soaked in his heat at my back. My tank top was the only fabric separating his skin from mine, and without thinking, I turned my head, nuzzling into him.
His hot breath fell on my ear, and I leaned into it, feeling the clenching of the muscles in my womb and wanting his touch.
It had been so long since I’d been touched like this. The feel of Jared’s lips against my hair was more intimate than the most sexual act anyone else could do to me.
I tipped my chin up, teasing him with my lips as they grazed his. A thrill shot through me, sending flutters through my stomach as I felt him grow hard against my ass.
I inhaled his scent. “Jared,” I barely whispered. I darted out my tongue and flicked it along his top lip.
He jerked, sucking in a breath, and I felt a shot of pride at still being able to leave him speechless.
Craning one hand around my face to hold my mouth close to his, he teased, “I thought we were going to be friends.” And then I gasped as he brought his other hand over my shoulder and slid it down the top of my shirt, claiming my breast in his palm.
I closed my eyes on a moan. “Good friends,” I clarified. “Really good friends.” And I felt his lips curl into a smile against mine.
“Tate!”
A knock sounded on the door, and I jumped, blinking.
What?
No.
“Tate, you up?” Fallon said, and I looked at Jared, feeling my body suddenly go cold. Damn it.
The ache where I needed him made me groan, and I watched him blink long and hard, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“Fuck,” he seethed, letting me go.
I could still feel him through his pants, standing strong and hard, and it was for me. Goddamn it, Fallon!
She opened the door, and we both straightened, knowing how guilty we looked. I was sure I had a blush all over my body. I could feel the heat of my skin.
“Oh.” She stopped short, her forehead scrunching up. “Hey.”
I shifted my eyes, smoothing down my clothes. “We were painting.”
Jared snorted behind me, but I ignored him.
Fallon nodded. “In your jammies,” she said more to herself than to us. “Perfectly normal.”