6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Tank
Lucy surprises me.
After just a few seconds of doubting herself, she jumped right into the project with gusto. I figured she’d hesitate when I handed her the paintbrush, second-guess herself, maybe laugh it off as something she’d never be good at. Most people do. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t pause or overthink. She dives in, bold and unafraid, dragging the brush across the canvas with instinct and heart.
Damn if that doesn’t make me want her even more.
We paint together, layering colors, pressing wildflowers into thick strokes of pigment, letting the piece become something raw and imperfect and alive. She doesn’t shy away from the mess of it, doesn’t try to control every detail. I watch her, mesmerized, as she pushes her fingers into the paint, smearing shades of gold and green, blending them like she’s done this a hundred times before.
She’s in it. Fully. Completely.
And it wrecks me.
Every time she glances at me, something flickers in her eyes. Curiosity, excitement, something deeper I don’t dare put a name to. It makes my chest tight.
By the time we finish, her cheeks are flushed, her hands stained with color. Sunlight filters through the trees, catching the copper in her hair, and she looks… breathtaking.
I take a step back, taking in the canvas, but my gaze keeps drifting back to her.
“Not bad,” I murmur.
Lucy laughs, the sound warm and easy. “I think you carried most of the weight.”
I shake my head, still watching her, my voice rougher than before. “We created something beautiful. Together. ”
The air between us shifts, thick with something unspoken.
I reach out without thinking, brushing a streak of blue from her cheek. She stills, her breath catching, but she doesn’t pull away. Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips, and I let my thumb linger at the delicate line of her jaw.
“I should probably clean up,” she says, her voice softer now.
“Later.” My fingers trace lower, the touch more deliberate. “Right now, I just wanna—"
I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to.
She closes the space between us, pressing up into me as her mouth brushes against mine. Tentative at first, testing, but I don’t hold back. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her against me, letting her feel exactly how much I want her.
The kiss deepens, turning urgent.
She melts into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I groan, tilting her head back to take more. I taste the faintest hint of honey on her lips, something wild and sweet, and it undoes me.
I slide my fingers into her hair, sweeping my tongue over hers, letting myself want her completely —body and soul—in a way I haven’t wanted anyone since my late wife.
And that thought should give me pause. But it doesn’t.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathless, her eyes dark with something I know mirrors my own.
I run my hand down her arm, feeling the way she shivers at my touch. “Come back to my place tonight.”
Lucy bites her lip, studying me. “Is that a good idea?”
I nod, my voice steady. “We’ve started something here, and I don’t do things halfway. I want to do this right .”
She exhales slowly. “Do it right?”
I chuckle, the sound low and knowing, pulling her against me again. My mouth finds the shell of her ear, my voice rough with promise.
“That’s right, sweetheart. I’m going to make you come. Again and again and again. Would you like that?”
She whimpers, clutching at me. “Yes, please.”
Those two little words send something fierce and possessive surging through me.
Without another thought, I take her hand, leading her back to the truck, knowing this is just the beginning.