I’d drawn a few possible designs for Emma’s dress already, but I vetoed them without even showing her. They were all lacking something. I wanted this dress to be one hundred percent Emma, and the idea I had now I knew was perfect.
The dress slowly appeared before my eyes and I began to flesh it out, adding the smaller details.
Downstairs something fell over and Ezra yelled, “I’m okay. Don’t come down yet!”
“Alright!” I called back.
He’d banished me upstairs and told me he had a surprise for me. I was definitely curious to know what he was up to, but luckily I’d been distracted by my design. Without a distraction I would’ve forced myself past his barricade—yes, he made a barricade—just to see what he was up to.
I finished my drawing and I smiled at it. I knew Emma would love it and I couldn’t wait to see her face when I showed her. I was already planning out the fabrics I would need to buy and how much time it would take to make the dress. It wasn’t too complicated of a design, but I knew to account for the fact that I might run into a problem.
“I’m ready!” Ezra called. “You can come down now!”
I set my sketchpad aside and scurried down the stairs, nearly falling in my haste.
He’d cleared away the barricade and when I reached the bottom of the steps I saw that he’d moved the furniture out of the way and covered the floor with a large white sheet.
On top of the sheet was a Twister mat—yeah, like the game—and on top of each colored circle was a splattering of a matching paint color.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Twister…with a twist.” He chuckled, standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he admired his handy work.
“Why?” I stood beside him, staring at the mat on the ground in wonder.
He glanced down at me. “We leave for Florida tomorrow and I know it’ll be nearly impossible for us to get any time alone, so I thought we would do something fun today.”
“So…you want us to roll around in paint?”
His laughter vibrated through his chest and he shoved his unruly black hair out of his eyes. “Getting you dirty has a certain appeal.”
“At least you’re honest. But I’m not sure how I feel about ruining my clothes.”
“Such a girl,” he muttered, then cracked a smile, “it’s a good thing I think of everything.”
He grabbed a pair of brand new white shorts and a white t-shirt. I noticed then that he was dressed in white jeans and a white shirt. By the end of this both would be covered in a kaleidoscope of colors.
I took the clothes from him and stripped down right there. I didn’t think there was any reason to be modest at this point. I folded what I’d been wearing before and set it on the steps.
“You wanna go first?” He asked me, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.
“Sure.” I agreed, stepping over onto the sheet beside the mat.
He picked up the board and spun. “Right hand green.”
I crouched down and put my hand on one of the circles, right smack in the middle of the paint. It squished between my fingers and felt cold and gross, but I kept my face straight so that he wouldn’t make fun of me.
“Your turn,” I declared, waving my hand for the board so that I could spin for him. He held it out to me and I flicked the spinner. “Left foot yellow.”
He stuck his foot out and immediately spun for me. “Right foot red.”
“I’m not that flexible!” I groaned, stretching out to reach a red circle all the way on the opposite side of the mat while still keeping my hand on the green circle.
“I’d beg to differ,” he whispered under his breath.
I rolled my eyes and spun for him. “Left foot blue.” He moved his foot. “Ugh,” I groaned, “that’s so not fair! My muscles are screaming and you only had to move your freaking foot!”
“Don’t hate the player, babe,” he grinned, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug.
“I’ll show you a player,” I grumbled.
“Don’t be like that.” He continued to grin, definitely unconcerned with my current pissed off state. He spun and called out, “Left hand blue.”
“Motherfucker,” I cursed, trying to position myself. I ended up bumping into Ezra and my hands landed on his butt to steady myself, leaving behind streaks of paint.
He stumbled from the impact of my weight and then tripped over me.
We fell together in a tangle of limbs, paint getting all over our clothes and hair.
“Well, that didn’t go according to plan.” I muttered, laying flat across his chest.
“Really? Because getting you in my arms was my end game.” He winked.
I glared down at him as his hands tightened around my waist. I reached out, smearing my hand in a glob of paint. Before he realized what I was up to I pressed my hand to his cheek, the red paint getting all over his face and into the scruff on his cheeks.
His eyes narrowed on me. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
I squealed when he grabbed my wrists and twisted to pin me beneath him. Paint squished beneath me, coating my hair and clothes.
“Ezra!” I screamed.
I smeared my hand in paint again and wiped it in his hair.
He laughed and grabbed my breasts, leaving behind handprints on my boobs.
We continued to roll around in the paint, smiling and laughing, as we tried to get the other person dirtier than we were.
I fell onto my stomach and he landed on top of me, carefully holding his weight slightly above me so that he didn’t squish me.
I tapped my hand against the mat. “I’m out, I’m out.”
He laughed and rolled off of me, lying flat on his back. I raised my head slightly to look at him and laughed when I saw he was entirely covered in paint. I’m sure I looked much the same.
“We’re a mess.” I giggled, sitting up.
He grabbed my waist and towed me towards him. I slid easily on the slick surface. “Come here,” he growled lowly, and I swung my legs so that I was straddling him. He sat up, wrapping his arms around me. Slowly, one hand slid up the bare skin of my arm and then he grasped my chin. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he breathed, his dark eyes flicking down to my lips.
Not one to wait, my fingers delved into his hair and I pulled him closer, angling my mouth over his. He exhaled a deep moan and I swallowed it with a kiss.
I rolled my hips against his and his fingers tightened around my waist.
“Fuck,” he growled, “I need you.” His fingers skimmed underneath my top and he pulled it over my head, tossing it so that it landed on the sheet. He lay down, and my lips never parted from his. He sucked my bottom lip between his and I let out a mewling sound.
“You kill me,” he breathed in-between kisses, “you absolutely shatter me.”
I clasped his face in my hands and stared down into his warm eyes. There were so many things I wanted to say—to confess—but I refused to give life to the words. I’d been hurt enough, and I had to protect my heart at all costs, especially from someone who didn’t want it.
Instead of saying anything I kissed him again.
His tongue swept past my lips and I breathed him in.
He was everywhere—his taste, his scent, his touch, it was all too much.
It didn’t matter how many times he touched me, it always lit me on fire from the inside out. It was like my body was programed to come to life when he touched me.
He turned, pining me onto my back and his lips left mine to kiss a trail down my neck, between my breasts, and over my stomach.
My back arched above the mat and I fisted my fingers in his hair, tugging slightly and he growled in response.
Before I could take my next breath he ripped my shorts off—seriously, ripped them because he tugged them off so harshly. I couldn’t complain about him ruining them since he’d bought them and they were already covered in paint. Plus, seeing him do that was pretty hot. My underwear and bra went next and both were removed with just as much vigor.
I palmed my breasts as he removed his clothes. His eyes darkened with lust as he watched me. I didn’t have much going on in the boob area, but the way he looked at me made me feel good.