Proving Paul's Promise(41)

She wins, of course, and they hand her a check for five thousand dollars. She looks at me and grins, and then she jumps off the stage and straight into my arms. I squeeze her tightly. She had a wonderful moment, and then she looked for me at the end of it. My heart squeezes almost painfully in my chest as I hug her.

Someone passes her shirt to her, and I help her shrug into it. She’s all smiles, and, I swear, she takes my breath away. My heart is f*cking galloping in my chest. I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to.

She accepts congratulations, and she hands out business cards to people who want to be painted for the next competition.

All I can think about is getting her home so she can wash all that paint off her body. I wonder if she might let me help. There are a lot of places she can’t reach. That’ll be my excuse. But, in reality, I just want to love her. That’s all. I just hope she’ll let me.





Friday

I can’t wait to get Paul home. I want to get all this paint off and then shove him on the bed and ride him. My clit has been thumping ever since he painted me, and it’s not getting any better. I’m glad I was wearing a black bathing suit, or people would have been able to see how wet I was.

We walk by Pete, who is checking ID’s at the door. “Damn, did I miss it?” Pete asks.

Sam walks up beside him and holds up his phone. “Don’t worry. I got pictures.” He shakes the phone at Pete, and Pete grabs for it, but Paul gets to it first. He grimaces and talks quietly to himself while he does something to the phone. Paul gives it back and grins at him.

“What did you do?” Sam asks. He flips through his photos. “You big f*cker,” he cries. “You deleted my pictures!”

Paul keeps smiling and takes my hand. “You ready to go home?” he asks. His blue eyes are shining, and he winks at me. “I have a problem I need you to help me with,” he adds quietly so only I can hear.

My heart thuds. I nod, and his eyes smolder.

He tugs my hand and doesn’t say a word on the walk back home. I look up at him a few times, but he just keeps walking with his jaw clenched. Every now and then I see a tiny tic in it. “You’re not mad at me are you?” I ask.

He looks down at me, startled. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re not talking to me and you’re clenching your jaw.”

He stares at me for a second. “I have a reason for not talking to you,” he tells me quietly.

I stop walking. “Well, what is it?”

He looks down at me. “Every single thought in my head right now is about how much I want to f*ck you. All I can think about is getting this paint off and then kissing my way down your body so I can taste that hood piercing of yours.”

My clit thumps harder than ever. “Paul,” I whisper.

“And then I want to take my time and play with those big old nipples.” His thumb drags beneath my breast, right there in the middle of the crowded street, and my stomach jumps straight down to my toes.

“And then?” I ask.

“And I’m going to come in my pants right now if you make me keep talking about it.” He pulls me against him and hugs me while he chuckles, then I feel him press a kiss to my forehead. “I want to throw you over my shoulder, but you’re pregnant.” He sets me back from him. “Wait!” he cries. “Can you even have an orgasm yet?” His eyes search mine.

I laugh. “I don’t know,” I say. I bite my fingernail and grin at him. “Depends on how good you are at getting me there.”

He laughs and pulls me by the hand down the street. “I’ll get you there.”

I laugh and let him drag me. When we get to the apartment building, he holds the door open for me and slaps me on the ass after I go through it. I look back at him and start to race up the stairs. I think he’s going to overtake me, and he nearly does, but only in time to open the next door for me. Then we go into the apartment and stop when someone walks through the kitchen.

“Em?” he says. He looks over and sees Logan sitting on the couch with the baby in a carrier at his feet. “Is everything okay?”

Emily looks from me to Paul and back again. “We just thought we’d come for a visit,” she says.

I bite back my groan.

“A visit,” Paul repeats.

I hit him in the shoulder. “They came for a visit. Aren’t you glad?”

“Fuck, no, I’m not—” he starts, but I hit him in the stomach, and he clutches for it with a loud grunt.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” I say, trying to sound excited. What I’m feeling is quite the opposite. I feel let down. I feel miserable. I feel like I will never, ever get to come again in my life.

“Shouldn’t you be at home letting that baby sleep or something?” Paul asks. He stalks over to the couch, flops down across from Logan, and stuffs a pillow into his lap.

“That baby wakes up every two hours and can sleep just about anywhere,” Logan tells him. He glances toward the pillow Paul shoved in his lap and raises his brow. He smirks. “Did we interrupt something?”

“No,” I say.

Paul says, “Yes,” at the same time.

Logan smirks and reaches for a can of nuts on the table. He puts his feet up and grins. “So, how was the contest?” he asks. He can barely chew around that smile.