I feel my brush connect with him several times before I wiggle loose and spin in his arms.
His blue eyes sparkle with mirth, sending butterflies swarming in my stomach. With both his arms now wrapped around me, holding my body flush to his, I bring my brush up, swiping a wide stroke across his cheek. His empty hand whips out, grabbing my brush by the paint-covered bristles. Paint oozes between his fingers as he yanks it out of my hand, sending it clattering to the floor, leaving me unarmed.
“Now what, Hawkins?”
I raise a single brow at him as I sneakily wipe paint from my leg onto my finger before I swipe it downhisnose.
He gasps and brings his paint-soaked hand toward my face, but I slip out of his arms and take off through the kitchen again. Our laughter echoes off the walls, bringing this sad old house back to life.
I lose my focus when his voice drops and he says, “You naughty, naughty, girl.” The split second I falter is all he needs. He drops his paintbrush, using his now free hand to catch me by the belt loop, spinning me, pulling my side flush to his.
Right before he spanks my ass.
Chapter 15
Trey
Istand frozen, my hand on Jessie’s ass. Our chests both heave, out of breath from our paint fight.
“Trey?”
“Yeah?”
“Your hand is on my ass.”
“Yep, it sure is.” I immediately remove my hand only to find a perfect painted outline. I bite down on my lip, fighting off my laugh. And my boner.
Fuck, that spiraled fast.
She turns to face me, but doesn’t step away, with our bodies still touching. I prepare myself for her to tell me off, but she doesn’t. My eyes roam her face—is that desire in her hazel eyes?
Her cheeks are flushed, breaths shallow.
My hand comes back up to her hip before I can stop it.
I stop breathing when her hand grips my T-shirt at the waist. I dip my head slightly, bringing my forehead a breath away fromhers. Paint drips down our noses. I can feel it on my arms, in my hair. We’re a mess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Moving in with Jessie, getting to see more sides of her, has been the best adventure I’ve ever had. It might not be what I was expecting, and I don’t know how to feel about it, but I do know I don’t want it to stop.
“Come to Arizona with me,” I blurt.
Okay, apparently dragging her halfway across the country is how I feel about it.
She shakes her head. Her hair that’s fallen loose brushes my forehead.
“Come on, come with me.”
“I can’t. I have to work,” she says, but doesn’t move. We’re still holding each other, covered in paint.
“All you do is work. I know you have PTO. Come with me. They’ll fly us out first class and put us up in a swanky hotel. You can eat pillow mints and drink all the mini shooters from the bar.”
She chuckles softly. Her fingers fidget with my shirt as she rolls her lips together. She wants to say yes, I can see it all over her face, but she won’t let herself. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, you don’t have to be sorry. Let me know if you change your mind.” I don’t know why I suddenly want her to go so badly. We aren’t even sleeping together—we’re nothing but roommates building a tentative friendship.
She nods, finally stepping away.
“So, would now be a good time to tell you there is a perfect handprint on your ass?”
