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“How are you at painting walls?” he asks.
“Are you talking about a mural or a solid color?”
“One color only.”
“That’s easy. We can knock it out in no time. I’ll do all the cutting in and you can roll the color.”
“Will you paint some artwork for my walls?” His brown eyes plead down at me.
“How do you know my paintings don’t suck?”
“Call it a hunch, but I’d be willing to bet my house that you’re talented.”
I point at Brutus’s hindquarters. “It’s the rainbow leopard spots, right? I painted the shit out of them.”
He laughs. “You did. You even made me a fan of them.”
“If you give me an idea of what you want, I’ll create it on canvas for you.”
His lips press against my cheek in a fleeting touch.
“What’s that for?”
“My lips missed you.” His face hovers above mine.
“They missed my cheek?” I ask.
His mouth sweeps back and forth over mine. The contact is so slight, but my body’s reaction is powerful. I’m burning for whatever he has in store for me.
I whisper, “Kiss m—”
His mouth lands on mine, smothering the rest of the word. My arms steal upward, encircling his neck as I hook one of my legs around the back of his thigh.
Darius growls into my mouth and lifts me from my feet, sitting me on the counter. My thighs part wider as he settles between them, pressing his hardness to my softness. I push my pelvis forward, grinding against him.Yes.I thought dry humping his leg was good, but his is so much better.
His muscular arms enfold me, molding our torsos together as if he can’t bear for there to be an inch of space between us. My fingers thread into his hair, raking through the thick strands as our mouths wage a hot, wet war.
I feel his hands on my waist before my shirt slowly climbs up my stomach. Pulling back from our kiss, he draws the green material over my head, then his heated gaze traces over every inch of my exposed torso. He glides a finger from the hollow between my collarbones down to the deep V between my breasts.
“Your skin is so soft.” He traces my flesh along the edge of my bra. The sheer, gray material leaves nothing to the imagination.
“Eísai tóso ómorfos,” he whispers in Greek.
So fucking hot.
“What does that mean?”
His palm cups my shoulder before sliding down my arm in a long, smooth caress. “You’re so beautiful. Eísai tóso ómorfos,” he repeats. It’s like a direct line to my pussy, making me throb.
My fingers fumble for the bottom of his shirt before I feel the waffle-like texture beneath them. Clutching the hem, I lift the material, slowly exposing each inch of his chiseled abs.Holy eight pack.I thought that was something you only read about in romance books, but he’s proof they do indeed exist.
He helps me out, tugging his Henley over his head. His chest, shoulders, and both arms are heavily tattooed. I want to examine each one, but I want to see the rest of him more.
I drag a fingertip from one side of his stomach to the other just above his pants. He goes still as I hook my finger inside the denim to toy with the elastic waistband on his underwear. I bet he’s a boxer briefs guy.
Darius’s nostrils flair. “Agápi mou,” he husks. “If you don’t want this to go any further, we need to stop now.”
I know what I want. I’m one hundred percent sure I want to take the next step with him.
