Page 4 of Infinite as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #3)

She laughed softly before a happy sounding sigh escaped her. “It’s so nice to have some time off. Some time to ourselves. Especially you. You’re always on your feet. I have such a hard-working boyfriend…”

“Maybe I’ll get a cushy office job where I wear a suit and tie.”

“Gross,” she whispered. “So, where are we off to after this?”

I shrugged lazily. “I dunno, I was thinking we’d just see where the road takes us.”

“I like it better that way. You know, I’ve never been on a proper road trip before. Like, an actual one. Where you stop at a bunch of places and sleep in motels and just drive and go wherever.”

“Mm, I know you’re used to your private jet. ”

“I’ve never been on a private jet, thank you very much,” she said, giggling softly. “But seriously, this is so nice. I think I really needed to get out of New York. Three years is a long time to live in a city that big. I think after all that studying I really needed this too.”

“Yeah, you worked real hard,” I said, moving my fingers gently through her hair. “You deserve some time off.”

She didn’t say anything at that. I could feel her eyes on me, though, and when I turned my head to look at her and caught her big brown eyes on me, I could have sworn I saw her cheeks go a little pink.

“What?” I asked.

A bright smile quickly spread across her face. “Nothing.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, burying her face in my chest.

“You’re being weird.”

“It’s…” She lifted her head up slowly, still resting on my chest with all that pink there on her cheeks.

“It’s just that sometimes I still can’t believe that you and me are doing this.

That we fell in love and moved in together and…

. Here we are, all these years later. Isn’t that crazy?

Did you ever think we’d be here in this bed together not trying to murder each other? ”

My brows rose, letting out a deep breath. “Speaking of, I gotta tell you something. This whole thing was a big joke and I still hate you.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered as she blinked those Bambi eyes my way, lashes all long and dark. “You’d break my heart, Sawyer.”

The way she said it—in that soft, little, too fucking sweet voice—made my heart break a little.

My chest got all tight as I pulled her in closer.

“I’m just joking, angel. Could never break your heart.

” I pressed my lips to the top of her head, giving her a long, lingering kiss as I inhaled that scent of lavender I couldn’t ever get enough of. “I love you too much.”

“I love you too,” she said.

“But I get what you mean. I can’t believe it either sometimes. All those fights…”

“So many, many fights,” she said, giving her head a little shake. “So young, so stupid. ”

“I think it’s kinda cool how you never took shit from me.”

She snorted. “There was something about arguing with you specifically that was kinda fun. Remember that time in middle school when you said I wouldn’t make the cheer team?

Hm? And then when I did, you told everyone my dad bribed the coach and the principal and some of the teachers to let me on the team. ”

I grinned at the memory. “Nah, I don’t remember that.”

“Liar.”

“Remind me again what happened.”

“You know exactly what happened.” She narrowed her eyes. “You sure liked to give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d take that all back if I could. If I could go back in time I’d change. I’d be better to you. Nicer to you. I wish I had been.”

“Do you remember the day we first met?” she asked, shifting in a little closer. She laid her hands on my chest and rested her chin on top.

My hand instinctively found her hair, my fingers gently moving through the strands as the memory hit me.

I could remember the moment me and Holly met clear as day.

Her sitting at her desk all prim and proper, me wondering why the hell a girl like her wasn’t off at some expensive ass private school.

“Yeah. I thought you were so pretty,” I said.

“Even then, I knew you were the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Little eight-year-old you knew that, huh?”

“Eight-year-old me was smart as hell. You walked in that room all polished and tidy and perfect, and there I was…” My tongue clicked. “Trailer trash sitting a couple feet away from you.”

Her eyes softened suddenly. “I love you. And I love that you’re not polished and tidy. That’s what makes you so perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Sawyer.”

“You’re sweet,” I murmured, my fingers still brushing through her hair. “My perfect girl. I love you so much, you know that? Never gonna stop loving you. And I’m gonna make up for all those dumb fights we had. I promise I will.”

“You already have. But, you know,” she said, brows pulling together suddenly, “sometimes I think about what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped doing that.

Fighting, I mean. What if we never fell in love?

Just the idea of not being yours, or you being someone else’s… I hate the thought so much.”

“So do I,” I said. “But we don’t have to worry about that, Holly. I’m yours and you’re mine, and it’s gonna stay like that.”

A little smile stretched across her face, her cheeks still that pretty shade of pink. Her eyes widened suddenly and she flew out from my grasp, my hands instantly missing her soft, warm body on mine as she sat up.

“Ooh, I almost forgot!” she said, moving to the side of the room where all our bags were.

Her bags, mostly. I hadn’t brought that much stuff with me, but she still had a whole bunch of clothes and girly stuff back at her parents’ place that she had stuffed into the truck when we left.

She unzipped one of the bags and pulled something out of it, turning back around with an even bigger smile on her face.

There was a little blue box in her hands as she came back over, kneeling next to me on the bed.

“Are you proposing, baby?” I asked as I sat up straight. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

Her eyes stayed on mine before they lowered, a soft laugh leaving her lips. “No, nothing like that. It’s just a gift for you. Something I think will come in handy. I got it done in New York.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Holly,” I said as she rested the box in my lap.

I took the lid off, my brows furrowing when I saw a business card looking back at me.

It had my name scrawled across the middle, my phone number there at the bottom and a strip of one of my paintings along the top.

It was an older painting, one I had done a couple years ago: some field I had taken Holly to when we first started dating.

There was a link to a website with my name in it and I wasn’t entirely sure where it would lead, but it was the ‘Fine Artist’ in big bold letters under my name that really caught my attention.

I still didn’t feel all that comfortable with that label.

I painted. I liked it. I wanted to do it until the day I died, but that title always felt like something that was out of reach .

“Do you like them?” Holly asked softly. “I didn’t really know what design to go with. That’s more your thing, but I wanted to surprise you. Now you can hand them out, right?”

“Holly,” I said lowly, placing the box down carefully. It was a little heavy and I wondered how many she had got me. My hand was quick to land on the small of her back, pulling her to me so that she was in my lap. “It’s a real nice gift. Thank you.”

“I thought you’d think it was kinda stupid,” she said shyly. “That I was going a little overboard. But you’re so talented, Sawyer. I want everyone to see that.”

I hummed and gave her a squeeze. “You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve it after I told everyone your dad was writing checks to get you on the cheer team.”

Her laugh was soft as she leaned into me. “Well, I forgive you for that.”

I reached over and grabbed the card that was on top of the pile.

My thumb ran over it, feeling the textured detailing along the field that blended into the smooth thick card below.

It wasn’t some cheap flimsy card. Of course Holly went out and got the most expensive ones possible. “You got me a website too?” I asked.

“Of course. You need some place for everyone to see your paintings, right? Every artist needs a place like that. And what better way than to have a website dedicated to the most talented one I know,” she said, pressing her soft lips to mine.

“You can just give people a card now when they ask about your art. I don’t know how much you wanna charge and I’d spoil the surprise if I asked you, so I didn’t put any prices up, but when someone reaches out, you can just tell them your preferred price.

The website has all the photos so people can see everything before they pay you. ”

“Photos? Did you put the ones of you on there?” I asked lowly, my eyes narrowing a little.

She gave me a teasing smile. “A couple.”

“ Holly .”

“Just kidding! The ones of me are safe and sound. I did all the other ones, though. ”

“You went all out, huh?” I said. “You really think people are gonna buy that stuff?”

“Mhm. I know it.” She kissed me again. “Ooh, I should interview you. That’d be fun. I can add it to my portfolio, and I’ve never interviewed you before.”

“You wrote that thing about me back in high school.” I said that thing like it was some casual, little moment in time, but I still clung on to that article. It meant too much to me to ever part ways with it. It was safe and sound back in New York, tucked away where it could never be ruined.

“Yeah, but I never got to sit down and talk to you,” she said. “And I have so many questions I wanna ask you…”

“Nosy little thing, hm?”

“Let’s do it,” she said, circling her arms around me as she sat on my lap, her legs either side of me, locking me right in the best place I could ever be. “I want to know everything .”

“You already know everything.”

“I want to know more.” Her hands moved up to my hair, pushing all my locks back. “What goes on inside the mind of a brooding artist?”

“Not much,” I mumbled lazily. My eyes lowered for a second when I saw the little silver pendant dangling against her chest. It was the necklace I had gotten her years ago, and she still wore it every day like it cost a million bucks. It always made my heart race a little to see that silver on her.

“What inspires you the most?”

You was the answer, because every single time I grabbed a brush and had a blank canvas looking back at me, all I could think about was painting Holly. Gorgeous golden skin, pretty brown eyes, silky dark hair. Perfection, really, so what the hell else was supposed to inspire me?

But because I wanted to tease her a little, I gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. Stuff.”

“Sawyer.” She groaned, burying her face in my neck for a second before pulling away. “Okay, how about I ask you an easy question? Hm? Will you answer that?”

“Depends on the question. ”

Her tongue clicked for a couple seconds before her brows raised. “Oh, I know. What’s your favorite color? See? Easy.”

Yeah, that was easy. “Brown,” I said, not hesitating for a second.

Her head tilted. “Why brown?”

“It’s nice. Just like it a lot.”

“That’s your answer? I want details.”

“You’re being rude, Holly. This interview is over.”

“Hey,” she whined softly, shuffling in closer to me. “I just wanna know why you like it so much.”

Humming, I let my hands grasp at her hips, keeping her secure in my lap. “You really wanna know?” I asked.

She nodded, hands still secured there against my shoulders. “Yes, please.”

My eyes found hers, and there was my answer.

Those big eyes. Bambi eyes . All brown and deep and warm, framed by the thickest, darkest lashes I had ever seen.

They captured me every damn time. Made my breathing stop a little.

I could stare at them for hours. Hell, I did whenever I painted her even though I could create every last stroke without needing a reference.

Over time, I had memorized all of her, and I could paint those beautiful eyes with my own ones shut.

“Your eyes,” I finally said, lips ghosting along hers for a second. “You have the prettiest eyes in the world, you know that? You know what kinda eyes you have? What kinda eyes I’ve always thought you had?”

“What?” she asked softly.

“Bambi eyes. Big, brown, beautiful doe eyes. I could look at them for the rest of my life. I hope I get to. I could never, ever get tired of looking at them. Such a pretty fucking color. My favorite color.”

Her eyes glistened a little before she tucked herself into my neck again, her arms tightening around me. “We’re done,” she whispered. “No more questions.”

I chuckled, letting all her soft hair get in my face. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah. You just always say things to me that make me feel so loved and beautiful. Only you could make me feel like this.” She shifted back a little, eyes still wet, and Christ, I really hated seeing her like that, even if they were happy tears.

“And you know what? Soon, everyone is gonna know your name, and you’ll forget all about me. ”

“Never, sweetheart,” I said, circling my arms back around her.

I held her tight to me, as tight as I could get her, that scent of her lavender shampoo taking over my senses in the best way possible.

Her little shirt had ridden up a tiny bit, the tips of my fingers finding her soft, smooth skin.

So perfect. We stayed like that for a long moment, her face buried in my neck as I held her, all while that game show was blaring on in the background.

She really thought I had it in me to make it.

That I could be someone, that I could be some successful artist, and I’d never get over how good it felt to have her believe in me.

That was just the start of it, though. The tip of the iceberg, because what it really came down to was the next step I wanted to take with her.

The road trip wasn’t just a way to celebrate all her hard work.

It was something else. It was me trying to find that place we’d spend forever, and it was her mom’s words that had made me truly realize it. About us having more special moments.

I’d find it. That dream home she described to me all those years ago had never left my brain.

I could rattle off every last detail with ease.

Open space, flowers out the front, lemon tree in the back, a sky that went on forever.

And I’d love her and take care of her and do everything I could to make sure she was safe.

Secure. Sheltered from any bad thing that came her way.

It was going to start with that house. I knew it would. And I’d get it.

For us, for her, I’d get it.