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lap, rotating my hips over his erection, giving him a little lap dance.

He hisses a groan and I turn slowly to face him, putting both hands under my breasts and lifting them, sliding my fingers over my tingling nipples.

His eyes are dark, and he licks his lips watching.

I have no idea who I am right now. I only know he brings this out in me. “Now for your reward.”

“That wasn’t it?” His voice is rough, and it thrills me to my core.

I drop to my knees and grasp the band of his jockeys. He lifts his hips again, and they’re gone, his cock springing free. I rise and pull it into my mouth, licking my tongue all around the tip.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, sliding his hand over my cheek.

My head lowers, and I pull him in as far as I can. His dick is really long, so I pull up, grasping it with my hand and pumping the lower shaft as I focus on the tip, sucking and licking. His hips jerk and lift, like he’s trying not to thrust it down my throat, and heat floods my core.

“Jesus.” He groans loud, his head falling back. “Daisy, you’re going to make me come.”

Popping off, I move my hand fast up and down, like I’m shaking a can of paint and grin. “That’s the point.”

He exhales roughly, gasping, and the look on his face is divine torment. I’m about to go down again when he grabs me under the arms and lowers me onto the drop cloth on my back.

“I’m not coming down your throat.” Snatching up his jeans he feels all around. “No… fuck no…”

The desperation in his tone almost kills my growing orgasm. “It’s okay this time. Just do it.”

Blue eyes meet mine. “You sure? I mean, I’m clean.”

“I’ve only done it with one other guy, and we used protection.”

He’s back over me, lining up his dick, and with one swift push, he’s in. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps as I moan and start to buck.

Large hands grip my thighs, and he lifts them, pulling me closer as he stays on his knees.

His brow lowers, and that command enters his tone. “Touch yourself.”

My eyes are locked on his as I reach between my legs and circle my clit. I’m so electric, my orgasm is surging by the third pass. Closing my eyes, I arch my back and circle faster, wanting all of this precious bliss.

He releases my legs and puts his hands on the floor beside me, pumping faster as I come. Sizzling fireworks flood my belly, flutters ripple in my feet, and he lowers his face to consume my lips. His kiss is sloppy and perfect, licking my chin and filling my mouth with salt.

Kissing his way down my body, he nuzzles my breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He sucks repeatedly, grazing me with his teeth, and it’s the most exquisite flash of pleasure. I have another little eruption of spasms around his dick, and his head pops off.

Arching up, he grasps my hips, holding steady as he groans and comes. It’s alternate staccato thrusts and long holds as his dick pulses, and it’s so sexy, so much more slippery.

Moments pass and he lowers to his elbows above me. “That was crazy. I’ve never done it without protection before.”

“Me either.”

“You’re too damn sexy.”

Reaching up, I trace my finger along the line of his jaw. “I was going to implode into a million pieces if you didn’t fuck me just then.”

“Do implosions have pieces?”

“This one would’ve.”

“I’ve created a monster.” He leans down to kiss me again, and I hold his face.

We kiss longer, deeper. We’re licking and sucking, taking little nibbles, exhaling little moans as we make out like teenagers.

He’s inside me, between my legs, filling my arms, filling my dreams. My heart moves to his with so much longing. My soul reaches for his, and I imagine him cupping my cheeks, asking me for forever…

“We’re running out of time.” His words hit me like a punch to the heart.

My stomach twists painfully, and my dream rips like the needle across a record. With a hiccuped breath, I blink back the unexpected heat flooding my eyes. Oh my God. Don’t fucking cry…

His brow furrows. “I meant to paint. We’re running out of time to paint.”

“Of course!” I exhale an unconvincing laugh, and sit up fast, dodging his gaze. “I’ve got to run to the restroom.”

Moving quickly, I stand and go to the hall, crossing the landing to my room. I decide to go ahead and take a shower because, damn. We made a mess.

Softly, I lock the bathroom door. I’m not trying to send a message or anything, but I can’t take him coming in here right now. It might kill me.

I step into the warm spray and close my eyes as the hot tears begin to fall, as my silly dream slips down the drain.

Every heartbeat is pain flashing through my chest. I don’t know how I let this happen. Why did I let this happen? It hurts so much…

I said I’d be finished on Friday, going to Columbia to meet Spencer’s boss Miles Klaut. Scout’s plane leaves on Friday. It was never going to last. It was never meant to be forever. It wasn’t love.

Standing in the warm water, I try to stop the hot tears tracing down my face. I try to reason with the hurricane battering my insides. It takes too long, and by the time I return to the master suite, he’s gone.

If he tried to knock on the door, I didn’t hear it. The brushes are still on the tray. He finished rolling paint on the walls, and a text is waiting on my phone.

Sorry if that was too much just now. I’ll give you some space.

Lowering to sit, I stare at his words a full minute.

My fingers tremble and weight presses against the battered inside of my chest as I reply, My fault. Thanks for finishing the walls. Thanks for

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