Page 37

He chuckled and kissed the top of the head. “Worry not. Their residence is quite shallow. I am certain the painting shall survive the pressure.”

“Shallow?”

He stiffened for a moment. “Is that not the right word? I only mean to say my parents’ home is…a fitting place for a painting by your hand.”

Poppy could not think of a synonym for shallow that would mean anything like that, but it wasn’t like she was remotely bilingual. She stroked Rai’s flat stomach. “You’re sweet.”

He relaxed, and they lay quietly for a long time, sharing caresses and occasional kisses.

“What is it like?” Rai said at last, voice gentle. “To…to paint, to draw, to be an artist?”

Poppy rubbed her cheek against his smooth chest. “I don’t think I can explain it.

Just… My fingers get itchy. That’s what it’s like, an itch.

Like I have to…to do something with my fingers, except it’s also my brain, and my heart.

Just something that has to get out, you know?

” Though she’d spent so many years suppressing it, ignoring the itch, that now it elud ed her far too often.

She’d forced herself to become numb, and now she was feeling all the pins and needles of bringing it back to life.

“I do not know,” he said quietly. “I have never had such an itch.”

“Never?” She raised her head to look at him. “What do you like to do?”

“I like to…to move fast. To feel alive.” His arms tightened around Poppy. “To travel and to see things and to laugh. But I did not leave home for a reason. I was merely bored, exhausted of the calm simplicity and pointless days. I do not have what you have.”

She snorted. “Crippling self-doubt? That’s part and parcel of the artist package, you know.”

“A purpose.” He sighed. “You have so many things that you wish to do, to accomplish. You wish to create beauty, to care for your mother, to put books upon a shelf and sell your drawings and even to do your work. I know none of these things. I have no goals.”

Poppy hugged him tight. “You have a good job. And you sell things, things people need. I know it’s not glamorous, but toilet paper was like gold not that long ago.

Selling toilet paper is just as important a raison d’être as making art.

Probably more important to some people.” It definitely pays better than being an artist.

He scoffed but held her tighter. “Yes. I sell toilet paper. I burn with glorious purpose.”

Poppy pushed herself up to kiss him. “Hey. I wasn’t being sarcastic. Yes, hard to believe.”

He regarded her with soft eyes and a slight smile. “I know you do not mock me.”

“Then don’t mock yourself.” She kissed him again.

“I know it’s…it’s fashionable nowadays to tell people they should get a better job, learn to code, whatever, but we need all kinds of jobs to make society run.

If everyone in the world became computer programmers, we wouldn’t have much of a world.

You have a job, and it’s important. Even if you don’t think it is. ”

He shuddered and took her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. “You are as kind as you are lovely.”

“Yeah, well, I make up for it by being a bit much.” She teased another kiss out of him, and another.

“And you are strong,” Rai said as he rolled her onto her back. “You choose where to go, what to do. I merely go where the wind takes me.”

“So you have a sales itinerary and a boss,” Poppy said, laughing as he pressed her back into the mattress. “So does most of the world. Believe it or not, self-employment is not the promised land. ”

He groaned and buried his face in her chest. “You do not understand,” he muttered. “It is because you are strong and I am…” He brushed his lips between her breasts.

“You’re strong, too,” Poppy said, kissing the top of his head. “I seem to recall someone bragging about how much toilet paper they could deadlift. And…and saying you would always rescue me.” Was he depressed? It didn’t seem like him, but then again, she barely knew him.

“It is different,” he said into her sternum, but then he rolled his shoulders back and looked full into her face, smiling. “You are simply so very admirable. I am honored that you have accepted me as a lover, despite my unworthiness.”

“Stop it.” She kissed him. “You are super worthy. Your smile alone should be a national monument. A shrine.”

“It is just a smile.” He seemed shyly pleased. How could he have such soft, innocent eyes when he was also so frankly sexual and fierce?

Poppy could be fierce, too. “It's not just anything.” She glared at him in mock defiance until he nodded in acceptance.

“I bow to your wisdom, then.” He pillowed his head on her breast, letting out a happy sigh, and she stroked his hair. Up close, the blue highlights were clearer, like rivers in the disheveled waves.

“So,” she said quietly after a bit, as she felt herself drifting off. “Are you staying the night?”

He didn't raise his head, just nuzzled the curve of her breast. “Is it what you wish?”

“Y-yeah.”

She couldn’t see his satisfied smile, but she felt it in his voice. “It is also my desire to stay.”

Warm relief flooded through her. “Okay. Great.” She craned her head around looking for the sheet. “I may have an extra toothbrush and you can use my shampoo and stuff. Did you want to shower again?”

He took in a deep breath, his exhale a hurricane over her skin. “It would be wise.” He pushed back, rising to his knees and running a hand through his hair. “May I fetch you water? I have mastered the filter and will make it sweet and fresh.”

“Please.” Poppy lounged and watched him go.

He walked like a jaguar, all prowly and sleek, and his jeans had not lied about the shape of his ass.

But once said ass had vanished down the hall, she sighed and rolled out of bed.

They needed dry sheets, for one thing, and she should rustle up that toothbrush.

It wasn't a great toothbrush—she’d gotten it free at some health fair—but it was better than morning breath.

Though from what she'd experienced of Rai thus far, his morning breath might be sweet and fragrant as orange blossoms. It wouldn't surprise her if even his farts had a lemon-fresh scent.

She shouldn't put him on a pedestal just because he said sweet things believably.

She knew that. He was just a guy, and the fact that he was love-bombing her now didn't mean something unsavory wasn't going to come out later.

But it wasn't like she was perfect herself, no matter what Rai said.

She had plenty of flaws that he was sure to notice eventually.

In the meantime, there was no reason not to enjoy having a gorgeous, supportive man in her life and in her bed.

She just had to keep her feet on the ground and her head out of the clouds until the honeymoon was over and some other overused metaphor took its place.

Probably something about reality being a harsh mistress.

Thankfully, harsh reality was something she knew all too well.