Page 28

He stops sanding and, this time, turns toward me fully. “Yeah, maybe. Certain rooms are my favorite.”

We’ve been flirting like crazy all afternoon, the sexual tension and late-June weather threatening to burn an inferno. It seems like our kiss this morning combined with Zach listing all the reasons why we shouldn’t cross friendship boundaries have driven him to the point of insanity. Or it could be the pinkspandex shorts and matching sports bra I deliberately wore. Who knows.

If he’s going to waltz around in low-slung black shorts and nothing else, then two can play at that game.

“What rooms would those be?” I squeeze the dripping paint brush tight in my hand, the ache between my thighs growing with every minute we remain suspended in this charged atmosphere.

He juts his chin toward my brush. “You’re dripping everywhere, Rocket.”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

He low chuckles and angles his head up toward the ceiling. “Shit. Ladders. I knew I forgot something.”

If there’s one thing I am, it's resourceful. “I mean, I could always paint it…on your shoulders?” I pause. “If you’re fully healed and everything.”

He laughs harder. “Luna, my back healed months ago, plus you’re tiny. I bench press over double your weight as a warmup. What I’m concerned about is getting covered in paint.”

I prop my other hand on my hip, a playful smile tracing my lips. “Sounds like it could be fun. If you can handle me.”

“Oh, I can definitely handle you, Rocket.” He drops the sander and flips his hands toward me, inviting me up. “Climb aboard.”

“The idea isto paint the ceiling. Not me,” Zach huffs out.

I can’t stop laughing. We’ve been at this for an hour now, and Zach’s upper half and shoulders are almost completelycovered in moon-gray paint. “Stop making me laugh then, and I’ll concentrate better.”

“I’m glad we did this before we replaced the floor.”

“We put the sheets down; it's fine,” I say, pushing the roller along the ceiling. “But my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

“Want to come down and have a break?”

“No, there’s only this bit left, and then we can finish up. I just need my paint replenished please.” I point toward the tray on top of the covered nightstand.

“Always so bossy.”

Zach keeps his hands firmly on my thighs as we walk over to grab the tray. The way his fingertips feel as they grip me tightly makes me think of other circumstances where he’d grip me like this, and the thought pools between my legs.

“Just trying to get the job finished this side of the holidays.”

“Careful, Rocket. I have perfect access to your feet, and now that I know your weakness, I’m not afraid to exploit it.” I feel a fingertip lightly trace the sole of my left foot, and I squirm.

In protest, I drag the roller across his left cheek. “Oops, sorry. Total accident.”

“Oh, no you didn’t.”

We’re in hysterics as he pulls me off his shoulders, fighting me for the roller as my body slowly drags down his until we’re face-to-face, and I laugh even harder when I see the state of him.

At this point, he’s more moon gray than he is tanned olive skin. “You know, I think this color’s growing on me.” I’m shaking with laughter as I continue to thrash the roller around, desperately trying to keep it from his grasp.

“Yeah? Well, I’m starting to really fucking hate it.”

I get one final swipe across the front of his chest. “Too slow, Evans.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as the tears pool but open them again as I realize he’s no longer laughing. Still gripped tightly to him, our faces are so close I can see his pupils are blown wide.

Silence passes between us for the longest moment, and I drop the roller to my side, letting it fall to the covered wooden floor with a thud.

“I want you so fucking badly that it’s killing me.”