Page 51 of Shark’s Pride

I buried my nose in her hair, enjoying the smell of my shampoo on her more than I cared to admit. “In that case, you’re also ridiculous.” I held her quietly for a minute and then added, “Thank you.”

She turned to face me. “Good night, Mr. Shark. Thank you for everything tonight.”

“Always, Ms. Gibson. I will do whatever is in my power to make your days—and nights—the best they can be.”

She kissed my nose and smiled, eyes already closing.

“Night, baby.”

She turned over again, getting comfortable to sleep, and very faintly, so quietly that I couldn’t be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, I heard her mumble, more to herself than me, “I could definitely love you.”

Chapter Seven

Abbigail

“Abbigail?”

“Hmmm?”

“You do know they sell things like this already finished, right?”

Sebastian scraped his wooden stool across the stained concrete floor of the do-it-yourself pottery painting studio as he plunged on. “Completely ready to use. I’m serious, in all kinds of designs and patterns. It’s pretty cool.”

“Oh, now where’s the fun in that?” I retorted cheerfully.

“But—”

“Heard you the first time, Mr. Shark. And the second. And now the third.”

And if he made it a fourth, I still wasn’t letting him off the hook. He’d told me to pick something to do for a date night, and we were painting pottery if it killed us.

Judging by his behavior, I thought it might. In a few ways, I understood his squirming. For a man who was used to the world marching to his beat, it was difficult to relinquish control—even over something as simple as the activity choice for a night out.

Emphasis there on out. If it were up to Bas, we’d be locked away in his palace even now, fucking each other on every available surface. Not that that would have been a hardship, but I’d needed to get out of that house. I’d been going stir-crazy. Even with their ridiculous size and stature, the walls were closing in on me. Not literally, but close enough that I was feeling like it. The craziness surrounding us—Tawny in the pool house, uncertainty in the air, Elijah and his team following every step I made—was more intense pigment in the paint bucket of our lives. And while I’d never had any illusion that life with Sebastian Shark would be simple, this routine was stifling. For close to two weeks, we went to work during the day and came home right after. A decadent dinner was followed by incredible animal sex until we collapsed into mutual unconsciousness. The next day, we awoke to do it all again.

Needless to say, I’d been giddy as soon as the words “date night” spilled from Bas’s oh-so-sexy lips.

“So what did you choose to paint?” I asked, looking over the supplies on the high-top table we shared. “I’m making a utensil caddy!”

If nothing else, I’d at least showed him how this kind of stuff was done. Overzealously leading by example, and all. Sebastian definitely got that part, a conclusion based on his grin getting wider.

“That’s an unreasonable amount of glee over kitchen tools, Ms. Gibson,” he observed, going for droll with his own mien.

“Not for a girl who spends the majority of her day in a kitchen,” I volleyed. And this time, it was my truth. I was the girl who got giddy when I walked into the home goods store. The utensils and gadgets aisles were my Mecca. Some girls liked shoes and handbags, I drooled over small kitchen appliances and cutlery. Rubber spatulas and cookware brought butterflies to my stomach.

“You make a very good point,” Sebastian conceded, his smile easing into casual angles. “I guess I didn’t think of it like that.” He studiously watched the way I wiped my bisqueware with a moist sponge and copied the process with the dinner plate he’d chosen.

“Well right now, you’ve got to think about something else,” I stated while gathering both his sponge and mine.

“Something besides you?”

I bit my lip and gave him what must’ve been a simpering smile, but I didn’t care. Okay, he got major date night points for that, not that I was about to admit it, however. “We have to let these dry completely before painting, but by the time we get our paints, they’ll be ready. Now’s the time to narrow down your color choices. Do you know which ones you want to use?”

He blinked slowly. “Colors?”

“Yeah.” I laughed. “You know, the stuff that makes things a little more interesting? People use it to liven up stuff like their clothes and—” I stopped short, taking in the view of his formfitting black T-shirt and jeans, paused, and then spurt out more laughter. “Okay, moving on. You can’t leave your piece totally naked—”

“Why?” He tucked his hand beneath the table to squeeze my hip. “Naked is good. Sometimes…very good.”