Page 61 of Before I Loved You

As I hold my dress to my sides, just barely covering the front of my panties, Paul slowly zips the jumpsuit in place. Once he reaches my hips, I drop the fabric and slide my hands into the sleeves before he continues his sensually slow glide up with the zipper, going even slower over my breasts until eventually getting to the top.

“Knew you’d look sexy in this,” he states, his eyes darkening.

I peek down at myself, extending my arms wide. “I look like a marshmallow.”

He shrugs. “But a sexy marshmallow.”

He hands me a pair of goggles, a thick pair of gloves, and a pair of new white sneakers that I take hesitantly before putting on to complete the outfit.

“You did all of this for me?”

“I knew if I was only getting one date with you, then I had to make it count.” He gives a playful wink, appearing hopeful for tonight.

My heart breaks from his words.

Why would he do all of this for someone like me?

Someone who keeps trying and failing to push him away.

If only he knew how badly I wanted to fall into his arms and tell him everything.

But I can’t.

Displaying a forced smile, I gaze around the room. “Now what?”

fourteen

PAUL

“Now, we fuck shit up.”

The bewildered look on Sarah’s face has me bent over laughing, my hands clutching my stomach.

“Excuse me?” She pulls the goggles up on her forehead, pushing her dark hair back, her green princess eyes widening under her long lashes.

God, she’s perfect.

I walk to the closet, reach for the baseball bat, and carry it over my shoulder. I then pick up some clear sugar glass globes from the basket I filled with paint last night and place one on the top of the baseball batting tee.

I hold the baseball bat out for her and say, “Hit it.”

She looks from me to the baseball bat and then back to me again, blinking rapidly. “Hit what?”

Nudging the bat toward her, she hesitantly takes it. “Hit that globe.”

“Why?” She cocks her head to the side, appearing confused.

Sexy, but confused.

“Just trust me,” I respond.

She purses her lips and confidently struts over to the tee like a baseball player up to bat. Lining up her swing, she hits the globe on her first try and is stunned as neon pink paint splatters across the giant easel before us.

Her mouth goes wide, quickly forming into a beautiful smile. “That felt so fucking good.”

I chuckle, pulling out another globe and depositing it on the tee. “It’s called rage painting. Not only do you create something cool in the process, but it also helps with letting off some steam.”

Stepping away, I watch as she swings again, revealing a neon blue color that transforms into purple when blended with the pink paint.

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