17. Oliver
Oliver
I stepped back as Trinity lifted the hem of her shirt up and over her head. So much for being neighborly. We could still be neighbors with benefits. That could be a thing in the States.
She tossed her shirt to the side and reached for me, her palms covered in blue paint. “So the first thing you need to know about finger painting is that you’re going to get dirty.”
“How dirty are we talking? Wash your hands in the sink kind of dirty or will you need to get me in the shower to clean up?”
“You’re going to need a full-body cleanse by the time I get done with you.” She narrowed her eyes and fussed over her bottom lip with her teeth.
Damn. I’d underestimated the intensity of my attraction to the gal next door. One look like that from her and my dick sprang to attention, ready for a repeat performance of the night before.
“First you need to get some paint.” She squatted down next to the paint can and looked up at me. All I could think about was what she might be able to do from that position if we took off our pants. Not even the overpowering paint fumes could curb my attraction.
I lowered to my knees and dipped my pointer finger into the paint. “Now what?”
“Now you’re going to have to paint the border by hand since you’ve proven I can’t trust you with a brush.” She scooted to the edge of the canvas and traced her finger along the edge, leaving a wavy blue line.
I could do that. Following her lead, I extended the squiggle she made. “Like that?”
“Not bad.”
My ego expanded with the praise. “Maybe I’m not so artistically challenged after all.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You made a line. Not even a straight one.” She peered across the canvas at me, a smile making the edges of her eyes crinkle.
“So it’s like that, huh? You can’t bear to give me any kind of positive feedback?”
Her cheeks flushed. “As I recall, I gave you plenty of affirmations last night.”
Yes, she had. Fuck it. This neighborly thing wasn’t going to work out. Not with the heat that pulsed between us. “Come here.”
She didn’t resist when I reached for her and pulled her into my arms. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders as my mouth captured hers. My fingers went to her hair, hands cupped the back of her head, adjusting the angle so I could take the kiss deeper.
Chills raced up and down my limbs. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since we’d been together and still, it felt like forever since I’d had her up against me.
Skimming a hand over her shoulder, I inhaled her scent.
Everything about her drove me crazy. I wanted to, no, I needed to possess her.
Make her as desperate for my touch as I seemed to be for hers.
Her hands gripped my hips, her fingers digging into my waist. I should cut things off right there, end it before it went too far.
The promise I’d made to Wyatt rang in my head.
I couldn’t have it both ways. But in the moment, I couldn’t tear myself away.
My tongue tangled with hers even as I told myself to stop, pull away.
I’d almost convinced myself when she slid her hand from my waist and stroked me through the front of my jeans.
Hissing in a breath, I threw all thoughts of Wyatt and the deal we’d made out of my head.
There wasn’t room for anything else except this woman, the urgent need to claim her, and the maddening friction she was generating between us.
I flung an arm behind her and laid her down on the canvas.
She pulled me down on top of her, then moved her hands to work on the button of my jeans.
Rolling her to the side, one hand fumbled with the clasp of her bra while the other moved between her legs.
She pushed my pants down, and I kicked them off, not bothering to look where they landed.
She pushed me onto my back. My elbow knocked into the can of paint.
The liquid splashed over the rim, splattering onto my arm, and soaking through the canvas.
“Your sign…” I made a move to shift away.
She groaned as she straddled my hips. “I’ll fix it later.”
My hands roamed up her ribs, reached around her back and finally got the damn clasp undone. Her breath hitched as I lowered my mouth, kissing my way down her neck, past her collarbone, pausing to pay homage to the space between her perfect breasts.
“You’re gorgeous,” I muttered against her chest, unable to move my mouth from her skin.
“And you’re blue.” She rubbed her hands over the paint that had sloshed over the edge, then slid them up and down my arms.
Not willing to be the only victim, I dunked my whole hand into the can. Cupping a handful of paint, I held it above her head, letting it drip through my fingers to coat her long hair.
Her eyes widened as the paint splashed onto the canvas. “You’re so going to regret that.”
Palming her bare breast with my paint-covered hand, I shook my head. “I doubt it.”
She pushed me back again, clamping her thighs around my middle. Then she dipped her hand in the paint and drew a heart on my chest. “Here’s where your heart would be”—then she stuck her tongue out at me—“if you had one.”
A deep laugh rumbled through me, making my chest rise and fall. “Hey, you started it.”
“Is that how you see it?” She continued to paint my chest, first the heart, then a smiley face over my right pec.
I put my hands behind my head, not caring that my own hair would be covered in paint. This was happening, I may as well enjoy it. “It’s not just how I see it, it’s how it is.”
She continued to slop paint over my torso.
“What are you making now?”
“I’m making you a shirt.” Her finger traced a line right up the middle of my navel. “Put your arms down, I need to make sleeves.”
“I’m comfy, can’t you make it sleeveless?”
She let out a huff but kept going, drawing a plaid pattern over my stomach.
“Am I going to be able to wear this shirt?”
“Shh. When you talk you wiggle, and it messes me up.”
I held still for a moment, enjoying the look of total concentration on her face. Her teeth gripped her bottom lip, a tiny furrow appeared between her eyebrows, and her finger traced along my ribs. Then I laughed.
“Stop moving.”
“It tickles. Besides”—I pushed myself up on my elbows—“Why are you making me a shirt when all I’m going to do is rub it off?”
Her arms slid up over my shoulders and she clasped her hands behind my neck. “You made a mess.”
“Me?” Snugging her in close, I rubbed my chest over hers, transferring as much of the paint as I could.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, positioning herself directly over my hard-on. I wanted to pick her up, carry her to my bed caveman style and have my way with her all night long. But there was no way to get to my apartment without going outside.
“Trinity?”
“Mmhmm?” She didn’t lift her head from where she’d started nibbling on my neck, the one area of me not covered in paint.
“We’re going to get a whole lot messier.
” I tried to locate my pants. There should be a condom in my wallet.
The way she was sucking on my earlobe, running her tongue up and down the sensitive skin behind my ear, and grinding her hips into my lap meant I didn’t have much time to ensure protection before I couldn’t control myself anymore.
There. My jeans sat in a crumpled heap about ten feet away.
I slid one hand under her ass and slung the other behind her back.
First, I rose to my knees, then my feet, lamenting the fact that the wet heat of her core no longer met my groin.
I carried her over to where my pants sat and dipped her down.
“Can you grab the condom out of my wallet?”
She held onto my shoulder with one hand and rummaged through the pockets of my jeans with the other. “Got it.”
Within moments I’d moved back toward the canvas. Probably best to keep the paint off the hardwoods. I laid her down on her back then slid her paint-covered panties down her legs. She held the packet in one hand and beckoned me closer with the other.
I whipped my boxer briefs off before joining her. Few places remained free of paint, so I focused on the skin that had been covered by her underwear. My hands were covered in paint.
“Don’t you dare put your blue fingers inside me.” She laughed as she spread more paint over my shoulders.
“All right.” That left me with only two options. I wasn’t sure she was ready for me yet, so I dipped my head down between her legs, intent on taking her to the edge with my tongue.
She spread open for me, her thighs falling to the side. I’d never seen anything so fucking beautiful in my entire life. Not even the sunrises over the ocean at home could compete with the vision of Trinity Ryan arching her back, thrusting her hips into my face.
I put a hand under her ass, adjusting the angle of her hips for better access.
Then I dipped my head down, nestling the scruff of my cheek against her inner thigh.
She moaned, the sexiest sound I could remember hearing in a long damn time.
Her hands scrambled for something to grab onto, bunching the canvas into her fists.
My tongue explored, tasting her sweet heat, circling her clit, and delving inside.
Shivers raced up and down her skin, making her tremble underneath me. Before I was able to get my fill of her, her hands reached under my shoulders and tugged me up.
“I can’t take it anymore.” She ripped the condom open, motioning to me to come closer.
I knelt in front of her, not even feeling the hard wooden floor under my knees, my sole focus on burying myself deep inside of her.
She took her time unrolling the condom, stroking the underside of my cock, fondling my balls as she covered me with the thin latex.
I wished I could feel her without it. How sweet would it be to have her pulse around me with no barrier?
Even the idea sent a surge through me. I held it back, not willing to take my own pleasure until I’d coaxed her to a climax at least once. Hopefully twice.
Pulling her onto my lap, I buried my nose in her hair.
One hand went behind her, the other toyed with her nipples.
I palmed her breast, giving her nipple a gentle squeeze until it peaked under my touch.
Then I transferred my attention to the other, doing the same until she lifted her hips, and angled her entrance to slide onto me.
I paused, holding her up with my hands while I let myself adjust to the excruciating pleasure of her tight heat. Easing her down onto me slowly, I sucked in a long breath. “Fuck.”
With her mouth up against my ear, she whispered, “Make me feel good.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not going to make you feel good. I’m going to make you feel fucking fantastic.” Challenge accepted.