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I smile. “You grunt when you’re turned on.”
“Which is way more normal than grunting when you’re thinking,” he says, his big hand molding to my ribs beneath my breast, making my heart beat faster as he pulls me even closer.
“Good thing I don’t want to be normal,” I say, my nipples tightening in my bra and every inch of me aching for more of his touch.
“You couldn’t be if you tried,” he says, husky. “You’re extraordinary.” His other hand drops to the bottom of my overall shorts, his fingers skimming beneath the hem, caressing the curve of my ass just below my panties. The feel of his bare skin on mine is enough to make the room spin. “But are you sure?”
“So sure,” I say, my breath coming fast as I turn in his arms, smoothing my palms up his chest to link my wrists around his neck. My body celebrates as my tingling nipples press against his firm muscles. “Are you? Did you sleep on it?”
I tense as I wait for his answer. He’s the one who applied the brakes last night.
His hands roam up my ass, cupping my cheeks, and that sure feels like a yes, I slept on it and want to have you all to myself right now.
He pushes against me. “I did. And then I saw you with that douche nozzle.”
I laugh, both nervous and curious. “And?”
He squeezes my ass hard. “And I felt possessive. And jealous. And I want you all to myself. So, yes, I’m sure.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Or maybe it’s a turned-on sigh, since I’m aching for him.
That’s partly because we’re talking about what we want. We aren’t simply humping, though I do want to do that. Very much.
But the conversation makes me tingle.
It’ll make what comes next even better.
“Good. Me too. And I know you’re leaving, and I know things will go back to the way they were between us after you go, but for now . . .” My tongue slips out to wet my lips. “I just want to feel good again, and I want to make you feel good. We’ve had enough pain, Jesse. I think we deserve pleasure—don’t you?”
That’s the heart of the matter, the thing I’ve landed on. It’s the list effect, and the list is about good things in life.
Sex with someone you care about—and of course we care about each other—has got to be a good thing.
“You do, for damned sure.” He keeps one hand on my ass while the other roams up to my hair. His fingers thread into the strands and make a light fist, sending my blood zooming beneath my skin all over again. “You deserve all the pleasure, and I’m going to give it to you. But I have one rule—if this interferes with the list, we stop. The list comes first.”
I nod slowly, holding his hooded gaze as I say, “As long as I’m coming second.”
He curses beneath his breath, and his lips twitch up at the edges. “You’re sexy as fuck. You know that?”
I grin, and my heart stretches its wings, gives them an experimental flutter.
Maybe I am sexy. Maybe I am irresistible.
At least, I am in this moment, with this man.
And what do we really have other than this moment? This beautiful now that tonight I’m determined to make even more beautiful.
“Take me home?” I whisper.
“This very second,” he promises, leaning down to grab my backpack from the floor at our feet.
But the backpack is heavy. Filled with the second thing I wanted to leave here tonight. Not only art, but some food and water.
With lightning speed, we empty my pack, leaving behind bottles of water and a few dozen energy bars.
Food, water, and art.
Perhaps that trio will give a little hope and some sustenance.
This is number four on the list, but with an addendum. Something extra, because that’s what the list is doing, it seems—helping me, and maybe others too.
In small ways, but those can be the ways that matter most.
Minutes later, we’ve corralled the empty spray-paint cans and are hurrying back across the creaking floorboards to the vine-covered window where we crept inside earlier this afternoon. Jesse slips out first, taking the backpack with him.
Once he’s on the ground, he lifts his arms to help me down.
With my leg swung over the windowsill, I take a beat to drink him in. With paint smeared on his sexy forearms and that look of anticipation on his face as he reaches up to catch me, he is . . . beautiful. So beautiful it rips at the door of my heart again, tugging it open even wider, making me suspect this organ in my chest is what the list is really about.
Claire didn’t leave me just individual missions. She left a bigger, underlying challenge.
It’s about being brave enough to open up to the world, to let it all in—the good and the bad, the things that are going to hurt like hell, and the things that are heavenly and sweet and healing. If I want the beauty, I’ll have to risk the pain.
