That’s where the scene ends, but I imagine King Arthur dropping to his knees and tearing Lancelot’s pants open to suck his leaking dick.
Hmm. I wonder if semen makes metal armor rust.
Chapter Twelve
LAIKEN
I’m waitingaround the corner, just out of sight, when there’s a tapping on my sliding doors. I force myself to remain there for a count of fifteen before answering. Lie knows he can let himself in, but he hasn’t since he was thirteen or fourteen.
For just a second, I see a shadow of his eight-year-old self, shoving the door open and running through the house with mad laughter as Nason chases him with a water pistol. A surge of guilt and maybe a little cringe rush through me.
But when I walk around the corner and twenty-year-old Lie gives me a dubious smile through the glass door, the cringe vanishes, replaced by a tight tug in my chest. The guilt doesn’t totally leave, though.
I slide the door open, and he looks at me demurely.
“For the record, I didn’t request help,” I tell him and grip the front of his shirt lightly to tug him inside. “Nason asked what I was doing today, I said painting. He said he’d send you over to help. Since I couldn’t think of a single valid reason to argue that I can actually share with him, here we are.”
“That it’s my first day off in five days didn’t occur to you?” he asks, setting his water bottle on the counter.
“It did, and I said as much. Nason insisted you wouldn’t mind. If you want to head to Cash’s, leave your shirt here, and I’ll get some paint on it. You can grab it on your way home. You don’t have to paint with me.”
A beat passes as he stares into my eyes. I don’t actually want him to leave. I’m about ready to tell him he can just hang out and keep me company when a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, and he closes the distance between us, pressing our bodies together.
His lips touch mine, and my arms wrap around him. Wecan’tspend the day kissing. I fucking want to, but we can’t. I’d love to spend the day doing a whole lot of things.
I pull my mouth from his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get sucked into my chores.”
He shrugs. “There are worse ways to spend the day. At least I get to stare at a hot, shirtless man all day.”
I huff, placing another quick kiss on his lips. “Want to cut in or roller?”
“I’ll cut for a while.”
We head into the living room, and Lie looks around. I’ve already got plastic all over everything, including taped to the floor. There’s a smattering of different color samples on one wall that Lie stops in front of.
“Why did you decide to paint?” he asks, examining my options.
“It’s been sixteen years, and I’m tired of mustard yellow.”
Lie snorts. “I’ve always thought your color choices were… interesting.”
“I didn’t choose them. Denise did.”
I watch as he moves the ladder close to the wall. I offer him the brush and a plastic cup of crisp, light gray paint and watch him climb up. That damn ass.
He’s wearing leggings and an oversized shirt that I think belongs to Nason. I can imagine him telling Nason he’ll help me paint, but he’s not ruining his clothes, so Nason produced an old tee.
“I don’t remember her,” Lie says.
For a second, I forget what we’re talking about. Oh, right. Denise. “I’m not surprised. You were pretty young when she left.”
“You weren’t married long. What happened?”
What happened, indeed. I frown as I roll my roller through the paint tray.
Lie mistakes my silence for discomfort in the conversation. “You don’t have to answer. I’m being nosy.”
“Nah. I’m just not sure what the answer is. I guess… I didn’t love her, and we couldn’t make it work.”
