End of Story(56)

“Oh.” His face fell. “No, thanks.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do. And my mom will love you when she gets to know you.”

I looked away. “Yeah.”



Thirteen


“What are you doing?”

Lars looked down at me from his lofty height halfway up the ladder. “Drilling holes for the picture hooks you wanted. This was where you wanted the first one, right?”

It was Wednesday. Four days postaccident. And apparently he was done with taking it easy. I set the grocery bags on the floor. This was so not the day for him to pull this shit.

“Lars, get down, please. Slowly.”

With a heavy ass sigh, he did as asked. “Smoothed off some of the plaster work in the bedroom too. Wasn’t quite happy with it. I’ll repaint later.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“I’m sick of watching TV,” he grumped.

“Then read a book.”

“I don’t own any.”

His bruises were starting to fade. Lots of yellow with splotches of purple. The stitches in his cheek should start dissolving in a couple of days though the cast would remain on his wrist for another week. The grazes up his arm and on his chest were healing well. All of which were on view since he’d taken to only wearing a pair of athletic shorts around the house. A decision I could only applaud. Still, treating himself with some caution, however, would have been the sensible thing to do. Because the idea of him hurting himself more freaked me right the fuck out.

“Read one of my books.”

“They’re all Romances.”

“So?”

“All right.” He groaned. “I’ll read one of your books.”

“Great. Enjoy.”

“You’re in a mood,” he said, giving me a wary glance. “How’d the shoot go?”

“The business owner brought his new partner with him. He’s a visual person and very active online so he had lots of helpful hints for Cleo and me. Because we both love having our jobs mansplained to us. Made the shoot take twice as long as it should have.”

“Damn.”

“Then some charming asshole followed me around the grocery store asking for my number and refused to take no for an answer.”

His brows descended. “What the fuck?”

“Indeed. Then I come home to find you performing daring physical feats. Dr. Lopez said gentle movement. Do you honestly believe climbing ladders falls under that purview?”

He set the drill on the coffee table. “You’ve had a bad day.”

“Yeah. I really have.”

“How can I make it better?”

“Keep your feet on solid ground, please.”

“Got it.”

“Thank you.” Which was when I saw it. A black shoe box with silver writing sitting on the dining table. “What’s that?”

“Take a look.”

The logo that adorned the lid... My heart was stuck in my throat. “You bought me Pradas?”

“I didn’t know what you wanted. So if they’re the wrong size or style or whatever just send them back.” He scratched at his head. “It’s my way of saying thank you.”

I opened the box with all due ceremony. Within layers of tissue paper sat a pair of black block heel sandals. Such strappy retro gorgeousness. “Oh my God.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“They’re beautiful.” I would not cry. It had just been a hell of a day and his thoughtfulness had caught me off guard. My father hadn’t remembered my birthday for over a decade and Aaron had been too busy with work to celebrate my thirtieth last year. But Lars bought me these beauties just because. It kind of blew my mind. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.” And the heat in his gaze lit an answering fire in me.

His good hand slipped beneath my ponytail and cupped the back of my neck. The feel of his warm breath on my lips gave me life. How he pressed his body against mine and took ownership of my mouth. With his cast pressing into my back, he kissed me all hot and demanding. The feel of his mouth on mine and his tongue slipping inside. A lot of thought had clearly gone into this moment. Because we hit fevered in well under a minute. With his grip on my neck, and all of the delicious heat and wetness of his mouth, my day improved at an alarming rate—rocketing from shitty to shiny.

“I don’t know where to touch you that won’t hurt you,” I said, breathing heavily.

“Guess you’ll have to keep your hands to yourself and let me be in charge.” And there was something in his tone of voice. Something raw and needy, with a touch of demanding thrown in for good measure. His gaze lingered over the hard nipples pressing into my dress. Then he studied my face. “That works for you, huh?”

I was the very picture of horny innocence. “What do you mean?”

The man had no time for my nonsense, diving right back in, kissing me until my head spun. And all the while his dick hardened against my belly. His tongue stroked against mine, making me moan. I let out a low growl of frustration because he was eminently gropeable and I wanted to touch too. That’s when he said, “Lose the clothes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”