Page 108 of Painted Truths

“Fancy a cuppa, then?”

His eyes twinkle with withheld laughter when I narrow mine playfully in response before nodding profusely.

“Yes please. Two—”

“Sugars. More milk than tea, you dirty animal.” He pinches my big toe gently as he pulls a face at my tea preference. “I know your taste in tea at this stage, my Peaches!”

Eventually, after a day of light and laughter, lounging and love-making, Henry takes it upon himself to draw me a bath, which I find weird as all get-out.

“You don’t have to do this. I am plenty capable of running my own bath, McHottie.”

After dumping almost half a bottle of my favourite bubble bath under the running water, he turns to me, a grin plastered to his face and bubbles covering his cheeks.

I can’t stop the bark of laughter, and soon I’m doubled over as he looks at me, askance, the bubbles dripping from his chin down his plain white t-shirt. “What, baby? What’s so amusing?” His deep voice is droll, though barely containing his own mirth.

He tugs me against him, and too late, I realise his intent because before I can stop him, he’s smushed his face against mine, rubbing lavender-scented bubble bath all over my laughing face. He pulls back after dowsing me sufficiently, all laughter draining from him. The suds dotted along his jawline would look hilarious if it weren’t for the intensity in his eyes.

“Let me look after you, Peach. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for the people you care about?”

A lump the size of the Grand Canyon forms in my throat so that all I can do is nod as he gently rubs my suds-soaked cheeks before turning back to finish drawing the bath.

While I’m marinating underneath the bubbles and Henry is dealing with some transatlantic calls that require his attention, I come to the realisation that my feelings run deep, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt for another living soul before. I’m hesitant to call it love, but I think it could be something I’ve read about in my books.

It feels the way I’ve always imagined love to feel—the intimate love I’ve long dreamed of experiencing.

Whatever it is, I’m grabbing it with both hands and holding on tight because I never want this feeling to end. What we have is so much more than on a physical level, though he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life and the mere sight of him makes me weak at the knees, but that’s a moot point.

We connect emotionally, and spiritually too. Body, mind, and soul. And mine are all his, because never having had that trifecta with another living soul, this feeling is an addictive combination.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Olivia

The following afternoon, after one particularly robust session, Henry gathers me close in his arms as our sweaty bodies stick together in the most delicious way. A ball of desire forms in the pit of my stomach, despite the four orgasms Henry has just wrung from my body with his fingers, mouth, and glorious cock.

“Peach, I don’t want you to freak out, but… we’ve never had the conversation about being safe.” I look up into his handsome face with a frown playing across my brow.

“Safe?” I’m not following.

“In the sexual sense. I just want you to know, I’ve been bare with one other person in my life and… well, you know who I’m talking about. I know I’m clean, so that’s not an issue.”

“Well, I’m obviously clean if you need me to reconfirm.” However, once the words have left my mouth, I realise he’s not asking me if I’m clean. Instead, he wants to know if I’m on birth control.

“Oh, sorry. You mean, am I on the pill or something, right?” His nod is slow, hesitant.

“Nope. I’m not taking the pill, Henry.” His face falls, and that sadistic side he brings out in me rubs her hands in glee at this shock I’ve just given him.

“No, the pill doesn’t agree with me. Can’t take it. Is that an issue?”

His voice comes out high and pitchy, and I fight really, really hard to maintain my composure, wanting to wring as much out of this moment as possible.

“No. No—ahem, I mean, no. That’s not a problem at all.” His hard swallow, as though to contain a spew of word vomit, or perhaps actual vomit, is the cherry on top, and I can’t hold back any longer.

Extricating myself from his embrace, I climb astride him and lean all the way over until my face is no more than an inch from his, my long hair shielding us from the outside world.

Unable to contain my giggles at his reaction, I release them into our little space as I tell him, “I get the Depo shot every three months, you great big idiot. Really, for a smart man, you can be quite obtuse at times.”

As I finish my sentence, my giggles turn to a shriek of surprise as Henry grabs my hips and, in one smooth move, he flips me so that I’m underneath him. His hips grind into the soft flesh of my thighs in painful pleasure while his cock, having sprung to life at the speed of light, pushes into my still soaking wet core.