“Yes.”
And with that one word, it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She gazed into his eyes, feeling infinitely better than she had in years. “Do you know how many times I imagined having this talk with you?”
“I know I’ve imagined it at least a million times.” He turned her palm over in his hand and stroked over it with his fingertips, making thrill bumps rise all across her skin. “Maybe we needed that time apart to grow and mature and to really figure out what we wanted in a relationship and in our careers and our lives.”
She nodded, thinking that maybe he was right about that. “Lately I’ve been wondering if I put too much pressure on us to fit into the perfect marriage mold—home by six, dinner on the table. I realize now that’s not how things work for everyone.”
“Sort of like the way you keep trying to get us to slow down now?”
“Slow has never been our forte, has it?” she admitted, before adding, “Unfortunately, I’m not sure we’re very good at marriage either.”
“Maybe we weren’t very good at marriage because we weren’t ready for it.” She appreciated that he hadn’t pulled away at her painful statement, but gathered her closer, instead. “People grow, and they change. I’ve changed, Reese, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I know how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
Her pulse quickened and she was filled with hope. She pressed a finger over his lips. “I don’t want any more promises tonight. And even though I know I’m going to need us to slow down again in the morning, right now I don’t want to have to worry about putting on the brakes. Tonight I just want to let the wind carry us both, wherever we need to go.”
He sealed his lips over hers, and when he rolled her onto her back, right onto the palette of paint, she didn’t care about getting paint on either of their clothes...Nor was she going to worry about taking it slow when, in the wake of their totally honest talk, fast felt exactly right.
“God, you feel good, Reese. Like I’ve finally found the missing piece of me.”
Paint smeared all over them as they kissed, desperate for more. She tugged at his shirt, fumbling to undo the buttons, but when paint made it slippery, she couldn’t wait and gripped both sides of his collar to tear it open, sending the buttons flying across the room.
He lifted her up and unhooked her overalls, then pulled her shirt over her head. They tumbled into the paint again as they kissed and groped and slid around in it. She wiggled out of her overalls while Trent stripped bare. When he came down over her again, all of his glorious muscles were perched above her.
And then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her dizzy. Her head and body were both reeling as he kissed his way down her body, slowing to kiss the swell of her breasts, teasing each taut peak until she was on the verge of release. She pushed at his shoulders, needing his mouth on her, wanting him to love her in all the ways he always had.
His hands traveled over her ribs, down the curve of her waist to her hips. The strength of his hands and the softness of his lips made her ache for more. He spread his big hands over her thighs, and finally—God, finally—brought his mouth to her center. His hot mouth, the scrape of his teeth, made her body shudder, her veins fill with heat. Her sighs felt heavy, growing shorter, harsher, more desirous with every slick of his tongue. Anticipation mounted, until she felt as if she might burst.
“Trent—” She rocked her hips, frantically twisting the tarp below them.
Somewhere in the distance she registered the sound of a paint can tumbling over, but she was too focused on chasing the orgasm that was just out of reach to process it. When he slid his fingers over her inner thighs, around her sex, but didn’t touch her where she needed it, she nearly lost her mind until she looked down and realized his hands were covered in paint.
Seconds later, when he brought his mouth to her again, she lost all control. Her hips bucked against his mouth, and he held her down, keeping her at the peak of the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced.
She grasped at the tarp, panting as her fingers slid in the paint. “Please, Trent. Take me now.”
He moved up her body, lacing their paint-soaked fingers and pinning them beside her head as he pushed into her, filling her completely. His lips crashed over hers in a mind-numbing kiss, obliterating any chance she had at rational thought. But a moment later he slowed his efforts, torturously so.