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outside, I just wanted to paint it, even if it didn’t turn out well. I got to work, setting up my station and mixing the colors I wanted, and then I got started. My breath came out in large puffs of white and my fingers were chilled to the bone, but I kept going.

“You know, one of these days, I’m gonna walk in and see you doing something you’ve already done before.”

I turned and grinned at Andrew. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t dressed as warmly as me, which meant he was just wandering around the house looking for me.

“It means that every time I see you, you’re doing something different. I never know what to expect when I see you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“That’s a very good thing. I like that you throw me off guard.”

I grinned at him, but sighed. “Well, this definitely isn’t my best work. It’s too cold.”

“So why paint?”

I shrugged. “I wanted to try and capture it. It’s so beautiful outside.”

He walked into the room and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me as he looked outside. His cold fingers slid inside my jacket for warmth.

“You know what I see when I look outside?”

“Hmm?”

“I see white snow and the stillness, as if nothing is moving in the world right now. It’s like the snow is all that exists.”

That was actually kind of beautiful.

He bent down and kissed my neck. “And you know what that tells me?”

“What?”

“That it’s fucking cold and you should be under the covers with me instead of freezing your ass off up here.”

I burst out laughing. “And here I thought you were trying to be romantic.”

He frowned down at me. “What part of me saying that you should be under the covers with me isn’t romantic as shit?”

I spun in his arms and tucked my body into his. “You have such a way with words.”

“Well, you know I have a dictionary and everything.”

I chuckled against his chest, but I could feel how he was shivering from the cold. Abandoning my painting seemed like the most logical thing to do at the moment.

“Alright, let’s go back downstairs.”

We turned to go, but he stopped, staring at the painting I had already taken off the easel. He walked over to it and bent down, studying it like it would tell him secrets.

“This is really beautiful,” he whispered.

I blushed and waved him off. “Nah, it’s just something I did the other day.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grasping the painting as he stood. “This is really good. You should paint professionally.”

“Yeah,” I snorted. “Trust me, every person that knows how to hold a paintbrush wishes they could be a professional artist. It doesn’t actually work like that. I don’t have any training and my technique needs a lot of work.”

He frowned down at the painting and then looked back up at me with a shrug. “Well, I like it, and I’m taking it home with me to hang on my wall.”

“You can’t just take my painting,” I said incredulously.

“Yeah? Who’s going to stop me?”

“I am.”

“Prove it.” His eyes glimmered, so I quickly reached out to snatch the painting, but he held it over his head, laughing at me as I tried to jump for it. On my third try, I jumped awkwardly, my knee connecting with what I could only assume were his goods since the air left his lungs in a whoosh and then he bent over. His eyes squeezed shut as he fell to the ground and assumed the fetal position.

I winced, kneeling down beside him. “Are you okay?” I put my hand on his arm, but he jerked away.

“If I had known you really didn’t want me to have it, I would have given you the damn thing back. You didn’t have to knee me in the balls.”

“It was an accident, I swear! You can have the painting. I’ll make you ten more if you want.”

“And maybe get me an ice pack,” he breathed out through clenched teeth.

I nodded. “Definitely.”

“And some alcohol. I think that’s definitely in order.”

“Anything you want.”

“And some grilled cheese and tomato soup. I think that’ll really help to start the healing process.”

I almost nodded, but stopped at the last second. “Tomato soup will make things better.”

His eyes opened and he smiled sheepishly. “Ma always used to make grilled cheese and tomato soup on cold days when I wasn’t feeling well.” He jerked his head toward the window. “It’s a cold day, and I’m most definitely not feeling well. I might even need my cock massaged.”

“If you tell me your mother used to do that for you, I’ll kick you out of the house right now. I don’t care if you die in the snow.”

A look of horror crossed his face and he shoved himself up into a seated position. “You’re disgusting. That’s…you’re sick.”

“I’m sick? You’re the one bringing your mother into this.”

“Not in that way! I would never…” He shuddered and pushed himself off the ground. “You know, I don’t think I want your cock massage anymore.”

“Well, I never offered one.”

He glanced down at the painting, wincing as he bent over to pick it up. “But I am taking this with me. And I expect those other ten as promised.”

He turned and stalked out of the room. A small smile split my lips as I watched him walk away, still looking at my painting.

Andrew

As much as I wanted to stay wrapped up in this cocoon with Lorelei, I knew it couldn’t last forever. I had a business to get back to. I could only imagine the messages I had waiting for me. So, when I woke up the next morning, as much as I didn’t want to, I left my beautiful vixen on the couch and got dressed to go shovel us out. I knew Eric would get out here as soon as possible, but I could at least get started.

Bundling up as much as I could,

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