Georgia giggled, setting the roller down. She bounced around the room like a pinball, pouring more paint into the tray. Her excessive energy level piqued my interest.
“Did I wake you? God, I really hope I didn’t wake you up. I was up by five, and I couldn’t fall back asleep so I put on a pot of coffee. I watched Home Shopping Network for about twenty minutes and walked through the house, and then I saw the room and I figured why not make myself useful, right? So, yeah, I saw you had already painted one of the walls this color blue, so I decided to finish the job. Are you still tired? Hungry? I can make some more coffee if you want some?” Her words were strewn together in one giant, fast-paced, run-on sentence.
I tried to recall the last time I’d seen her take a breath.
She fiddled with bright blue painter’s tape while tapping a persistent foot against the squeaky hardwood floor.
I cocked my head to the side. “How much coffee have you had, sweetheart?”
She shrugged. “A few cups. I guess I lost count after three…or maybe it was four?”
My eyebrows popped in understanding.
“Anyway, what do you think? Are you happy with the color? I think I like it. It’s cheerful. Serene. Hopefully, your mom will like it. I guess her opinion would be the most important one, huh?”
I nodded. “I think she’ll love it,” I lied. “Have—”
“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, before I could ask her if she’d eaten anything. Her mind was like a damn hummingbird’s wing, flitting around from one thought to the next faster than the naked eye, or in this case, ear, could process.
She grabbed the roller again, sliding it into the tray, and resumed her painting with more-than-necessary focus.
“So, last night…it was…did you…” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes uncertain, and before I could offer a reassuring smile, her gaze was back on the wall, her arm sweeping up and down in quick succession. Her feet fidgeted a few times until she just blurted out, “I had a really good time last night!”
And the light bulb went on.
Normally, I could get a pretty quick read on someone’s headspace, more quickly than this, but after waking up to find her painting my house, her beautiful mouth moving a mile a minute, I was a little off my game.
Georgia was nervous. And about a pot of coffee deep into the caffeine jitters.
She seemed uncertain if I’d enjoyed last night, which was insane. First time or not, Georgia Cummings knew just how to sexually woo a man.
A tight, hot * was just the beginning because the rest of it was what I would remember. The shake of her body, the gravel in her voice. The way her words turned into moans, and those, in the fiery inferno of her orgasm, gave way to nothing but enraptured silence. Her eyes held mine, and her heartbeat was my second favorite part of her chest.
Nirvana was the only way to describe it.
I knew she felt it along with me then, and I knew, deep down, she knew it now, too. I just needed to remind her.
I moved to the shower, turning the nozzle and letting the water warm up.
She glanced over her shoulder at the squeal of the pipes. “What are you doing?”
“Just want to make sure the plumbing is still good in here,” I lied. The only plumbing I cared about was hers.
I smiled in reassurance. She kept the suspicious face but turned back to her task.
Once the water hit a good temperature, I moved toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist, and whispered into her ear, kissing the soft skin of her neck.
“Hey, guess what?”
“What?” She shivered but didn’t stop painting.
I kissed her jaw and stepped back, holding my hand out. “Let me borrow that roller for a second. I have a little trick that makes it easier,” I lied again.
She shrugged, handing it to me. I set it down in the tray, glancing at the shower and noting the steam rising from the floor.
Perfect.
It was time to take this situation into my own hands. I grabbed her hips and tossed her over my shoulder before she could stop me.
“Kline!” she squeaked as I strode toward the shower, the top fragments of her bun tickling the skin of my thighs. She smacked my ass and back as I stepped under the showerhead, water drenching us both.
“Holy shit!” she shrieked as the water soaked into her skin and very few clothes. “What the hell!”
Chuckling, I set Georgia on her feet and ignored her glare. I reached around her back with a flourish, popping the clasp on her bra and dragging it off her arms and down until it landed at our feet. She was a vision, wet, waiting, and wearing nothing but my briefs.
“I enjoyed last night.” Her uncertain eyes warmed just slightly. “So much that I feel compelled to thank you—” I paused and licked my lips with a wink. “And this perfect fucking *.” Her eyes widened, but I didn’t wait, sliding down her body, kissing between her swinging breasts, her belly, until I reached the waistband of my underwear.
“Kline?”