“Yes, Mila?” His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes dark and focused on me.
“Orange. Red and yellow make orange.”
“Yeah, they fucking do.” He smirks right before smashing his mouth back to mine. My goggles go flying from my head, landing somewhere on the floor.
My hands immediately thread into his hair. His brown strands are as soft as I remember, and when my nails scrape against the sides of his bare scalp, I feel the way his body shivers. Tightening my legs around his waist, I’m acutely aware of the way his hands travel down from my neck to my ass, grinding my center against his body.
“Wait. Kash.” I pull back, trying to gulp in a breath. “We can’t do this here. What if they have cameras?”
“Then we’ll give them one hell of a show.” He kisses a path down the side of my neck that isn’t completely covered in paint. When his head tilts back up, I see a little orange paint coating his cheek. Rubbing my hand against it, Kash leans into my touch. “I’ll show allthose fuckers watching exactly who you belong to, Mila. You’ll be my own work of art.”
“Kash...” My voice trails off when he nips my neck again. “Please.”
He must hear something in my voice because he sets me back onto my feet. Kash doesn’t move away; instead, he puts both arms on either side of my head, resting his forehead against mine. “I would give anything to sink into you right now. I’d rip those fucking leggings from your sexy thighs and bury my face there. I’d eat you until you screamed my name, letting everyone know you’re mine, then I’d fuck you until you felt me every time you took a step for the next month. Our first time together isn’t going to be here against a wall. We’ll come back for that,” he promises, taking a step back.
My insides clench at his words.First time?
Kash looks at the canvas behind me with approval. “This is going above our bed.”
Turning to follow his line of sight, I see the paint I flung at it earlier no longer holds the same shape. Instead, it’s now mixed in various areas, with only a few small lines intact. There are fingerprints in different colors, and it looks like someone used their hands to mark it instead. Looking between Kash and the canvas, I’m struck with the best idea.
Most of the canvas is now various shades of orange, yellow and red. Dipping the brush into the blue paint, I gesture for Kash to give me his hand. When he holds it out, I run the brush across his palm and fingertips, making sure to cover it completely.
I press his hand against the canvas for a moment, then pull it back. In its place is a perfect, large, Kash-sized handprint. Dipping a different brush into the red, I cover it and hand it to Kash.
He takes the brush from me and coats my palm and fingers in the paint. It’s cold and wet against my heated skin. Pressing my handprint on top of his, I stand back and admire my handiwork. In between all of the other colors, our handprints now rest in the center.
After wiping the paint from his hand, Kash quickly reties his hair,his movements jerky. As soon as he’s done, he grabs mine and repeats the process. His movements don’t slow down—if anything, they speed up.
“Kash?” I question. He seems off. “Is something wrong?”
Dropping my hands, he walks to the wall and removes the canvas. When he turns back to face me, his expression is serious. “Home. Now.”
“What? Are we done?” I thought we’d be here for a little while longer, at least. “Your canvas isn’t done.” I point to his almost-blank project on the wall.
Following my hand, he shrugs. “This is the only one we need.”
“Well, what if I want it for in the kitchen?” He used yellow and green, and it reminds me of spring. It’d be nice to have to look at on the long days at work.
“What my girl wants, my girl gets.” He yanks the second canvas off the wall and stalks toward me. “Whatevershe wants, she gets.” Leaning down, he quickly drops a kiss to my lips. “Let’s go. We have one more stop to make before I can take you home.”
“No.”
“What do you mean,no?”
Tilting my head to the side, I take a deep breath. Here we go. “I mean, I want to go home. With you. Now. Not later.”
For a moment he doesn’t respond, then a huge smile breaks out across his face.
“As you wish, my Mila.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kash
Ibreak every speed law or ordinance this town has in my haste to get out of here. As we leftSplatter & Shatter, I handed Mila our projects to hold onto. The paint is still wet, but I was trying to hold them and fight with the locker at the same time. Not one of my finer moments.
Miles stood by the desk with a knowing grin on his face. There's paint on my hands still, and I have no doubt we both have streaks of it in our hair. Mila’s face and neck still have painted patterns on them. But right then, I just needed to get her home as fast as humanly possible.
