Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
I can’t help the grin that slips across my face. Leaning over, I gently place the sheet on the floor to avoid any paint splatter.“Okay, you lay right here.” I watch as Brooks lowers his fine self to the floor, muscles flexing in all the right places as he does so. “Why are you going so slowly?”
“It feels like I’m moving way too fast.” I chuckle again. Stoner Brooks is fun. He finally gets in position. “Okay, what now?”
“Let me grab paint. Stay right there.”
Grabbing blue paint, I start slowly pouring it over him. “Stay still. I’m going to make your shape on the floor.” He does as I say, and I pour more paint over him. Reaching down, I smear it over his arms and his face. He grabs me and pulls me down on him.
“It’s not fair for you to be the only one painting. I want to paint you too, pixie.” He smears paint across my cheeks and down my chest. “There. Much better.” I straddle him, and he pulls me against him. He looks up at me, those deep brown eyes searching mine for more, for anything. They glide over my lips sinfully, and my tongue peeks out to say hello. He swallows, and I can tell he’s holding back. He wants to kiss me, and it’s killing me, but I want the same. We can’t go down that road, not yet.
I start to slide back and force over the very prominent prize in his pants and he moans. “Mia…”
“Yes, Brooksy? Next lesson… high sex.”
“Hell, yes.”
Euphoria is great being high alone, but sex while high makes everything heightened. The pleasure, the feel of everything. Him, me, in a twirl of paint and lust. Another amazing lesson in the books.
Another hit. Another stroke. Another color. Blue for Brooks. The bristles of my brush caressing the canvas with color. One more line. Black fading out as it runs off the paintbrush. I pull back, needing to refill my brush with paint and realize that I’ve run out of black on my pallet. I’m forced to use blue.
Like my life.
Forced to think about Brooks in such close proximity. I peer over the top of my easel as I speak of the devil in an angel disguise. Musk and sandalwood assault my senses as I notice the towel-clad man heading into my kitchen. Freshly showered, still dripping, and mouthwatering. Suddenly I want to do a little more than painting. Well, a different kind of art. I want our bodies to do a little mixing without the mess. Painting the walls with our shadows is more like it, but the sun isn’t out and bright today. A thought for later.
A grin steals across his cheeks, and I can’t help but reply with my own smile. His hair glistens in the sunlight. Another hit on my joint to make the feelings go away. To numb myself. He crosses the room to kiss me on the forehead, his new morning ritual, and the gruff stubble covering his jaw almost gives me something akin to a rug burn, but I relish in the feel of it. I want it to mark me.
To tell the world that he’s mine. But that’s not true, because he’ll never be mine if I only give him my body. He wants my broken heart too. It’s like he wants to put it back together piece by piece and I hate that it’s working. “Morning, my beautiful Pixie.” Insert dopey grin here.
“Hey, Brooksy.” He smiles at the nickname that’s slowly become what I call him.
“You working on my painting again this morning?”
“Yeah, I ran out of black paint.”
“You ever think about using something other than black for everything? Like adding a pop of color?”
“Why do you think I’m using blue?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m saying, why not try lighter colors in general?”
“I’ve always used black. It’s comfortable for me.”
“Would you paint outside the lines if I asked you to?” His eyes fill with hope. It’s a loaded question. Would I paint outside the lines with him? Would I give myself willingly, hoping that I didn’t end up broken even more in the end?
Every day it gets harder to understand why I’m telling myself no, yet a little voice inside still whispers. Look what happened to your parents. Look what happened with Chad… Fear keeps me standing in place, never moving forward.
I’m safe here.
With Brooks, I’m in danger. In danger of losing my heart.
“I made you coffee. It’s in the kitchen.” I’m glad for the brief reprieve to his question.
“This is why you’re the best roomie.”
“I know.”
He turns to walk away, and I watch his ass muscles scrunch under his towel. Even his ass is sexy, and now I want to jump him again. “Hey, Brooks, when do you go into work today?”
“Two hours. Why, what’d you have in mind?” The tent in his towel suggests he knows exactly what I’m talking about, but sometimes you just have to spell these things out.
I waggle my eyebrows. “Wanna knock something else off that wish list of yours?”
His upper body shakes with laughter. “You know I’m down for anything.”
A chuckle pierces my lips. “Using my phrases now, are you?”
He shrugs. “Seemed appropriate.”
Brooks is getting to me. I’m a lady enough to admit it. He’s been making me waver in my thoughts all morning, thinking about surrendering and letting go. Giving in to all the desires I’ve been having. Like the dreams, I’ve had about kissing him for weeks. I don’t kiss. It’s one of my main rules, but aren’t rules meant to be broken? I sure as hell break them all the time, so what’s one little rule. If he’s a saint then I’m a demon. I’m heading to hell anyway might as well enjoy the ride. Lip locks and all.
Plus, I can’t stop thinking about my desire to kiss him last night. The way his eyes begged me relentlessly to give it and let