True.
He was highly possessive.
"Good. You can return them to me."
"So you can destroy them and forget about our relationship when you decide not to risk a mate bond? I don't think so."
"Then we cantrade. I brought that painting you love of the forest outside our house." I corrected myself. "Myhouse."
"The anniversary paintings are going to stay right where they are."
"Where are they?"
"My studio."
I flashed him a look. "You put nude paintings of me on the walls of your studio?"
"Nude paintingsIcreated ofmyfemale that were donewithher permission, yes. Don't make it sound disturbed."
The paintings had accidentally become a tradition on the anniversary of the first time he stayed the night at my house. Itwas the night of a large gallery event he'd been a part of, which was the only reason we actually knew the date.
On our first anniversary, he gave me the blue couch I adored that still lived in front of my TV, and I gave him the enchanted bedding. Somehow, we started teasing each other about nude paintings. One thing led to another, and I'd stripped and posed for him.
I couldn't sit still for long, obviously, so the quick-and-dirty painting (which took far less time than his usual process) was a two-day affair with so many sex breaks that we both ended up sticky and slightly delirious by the end. The final product was always significantly more erotic than the original plan.
The memories alone made me smile.
And they made me slightly wet, but that wasn't surprising or unique. Most things did, when it came to Niall.
"You genuinely believe we're fated?"I asked.
He nodded. "Didn't have any doubt until you gave me a fucking heart attack by announcing you were stuck with the wolf."
"If it's any consolation, I also gavemyselfa heart attack by thinking that. And a hundred panic attacks."
"It isn't."
"Bummer." I blew a strong puff of air on my nails, wiggling my toes a little more. "Ahh, this sucks."
"You know I can fix it." His lips curved upward slightly.
"Don't tempt me."
"There's nothing I enjoy more, Livvy."
"Other than fucking me."
"Maybe."
I touched my right pinky, and groaned when the imprint of my finger remained on the polish. "Dammit."
"You don't need to suffer."
"I do."
"You don't."
I wiggled harder.
