“You’re gonna get it.”
She yelps and attempts to run out the door, except I’m pulling on the drop cloth to bring her back to me. A laugh morphs into a squeal when she falls. I pounce, dragging her weapon of choice up her thighs to the strip of mocha skin peeking out from beneath her T-shirt.
“Not the hair!”
I push back her loose curls and swipe her neck. “Missed a spot.” My voice softens when I paint her chin. “Got another.”
She bites her lip to stifle a giggle and looks away, unaware of the effect she has on me. My throat knots at the unwelcome urge to drag my thumb across her pulse point, which is now decorated in her favorite shade. None of my body weight is pressing into her, but I feel her heart thudding against the thin material of her shirt.
The urge to close the short distance between us and tease her lips apart with my tongue is there, but I won’t do it. But I won’t. Having her in any way that compromises our friendship, which took years to build, risks losing her. It kills me to deny the feelings that won’t go away, but I have to, because not having Miriam in my life is an agony I never want to experience again.
She stills. Shit, did I go too far?
We always play around, but I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
“Hey, sorry,” I say through a frown and push off of her. As I do, a smirk flashes before she grabs my paintbrush and smears my jaw.
“Got ya,” she teases.
I graze my beard and gape at the paint coating my fingertips. My shock fades fast enough for me to grab her ankle and drag her back under me.
Her brown eyes widen, and her skin tints a shade of pink. “I take it back! Truce.”
I grin. “Can’t do that, Doe. We’re just getting started.”
Chapter 12
Miriam
“You missed a spot.” Antonio motions to the space between my jaw and ear. He dodges one of the new throw pillows I toss at his head. “You started it.”
That I did.
I never had a paint fight, much less one involving gallons. We managed to keep the walls safe, but the floor and furniture covers were casualties. I scrubbed my crack and creases three times to remove the paint from my body. My hair is a lost cause. There are mint green splatters across my coils.
Antonio fared better, with only paint on the beard he washed and all over the shirt and jeans he replaced with sweats and a tee he brought from his place. Our near-foot height difference was not to my advantage. A reminder he hasn’t let me live down.
“Want me to lick it off for you?” A smile toys at his lips.
“You’re such a flirt.” I roll my eyes and dab a napkin from the tray on the end table into my water glass. “Did I get it?”
“Yeah,” he says, a splatter-free poster child of peace, shoveling complex carbs and protein into his body by the mouthful.
We’ve been together over thirteen hours today—not that I’m counting. Aside from my mother’s call and a text from Marcela reminding me about brunch tomorrow, I barely looked at my phone. I don’t have people trying to get in touch with me like Antonio does, but he hasn’t checked his phone either.
I put us straight to work after our trip to the home improvement store. We painted, sorted through most of my boxes to unpack the lifetime of books I’ve acquired, and built bookcases. Antonio’s jaw remained on the floor when he learned engineering encyclopedias are a thing. I’m the proud owner of twelve, including one on vibrations, which he thought was code for something else.
Thosevibrations are in a small box inside my bedroom closet. I’ll unpack that one once a certain guest goes home.
“Want more before I kill it?” He lifts his container of citrus barbecue chicken with broccoli and brown rice from the other end of my sofa bed.
“No thanks, I’m stuffed.” I pat my stomach, satisfied with the chicken and rice I inhaled. “Thanks for bringing dinner.”
“I got you.”
Today wiped me out. I was too tired to cook, not that Antonio would have let me if I’d tried. He grabbed two meals from the weekly prep packs he orders for the team. A walking testament to the wonders of good nutrition and big muscles.
The weighted blanket I found at the store swallows me in my pink and white pajama set and everything but his torso. Neither of us has moved since we sat down for dinner. The way my muscles are screaming at me for what little manual labor I did, I’m done for the evening.
