Page 42 of Matched

Then our gazes lift and we stand there, just staring at each other like it’s been years since we’ve been together. Mainly, I’m just drinking Inara in. Memories of how beautiful my wife is couldn’t do the real thing justice. She’s dressed in cut-offs that reveal her long, toned legs and a beat-up gray T-shirt that slides off one golden shoulder. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she has a streak of blue paint across one cheek. Adorable and sexy, all wrapped up into one package.

“Aw, come on, give your long-lost husband a hug.” Before she can protest, I sweep her up into my arms and bury my face in her hair, inhaling that sweet, citrusy scent. “I missed you,” I whisper, as her arms wrap around my waist and squeeze.

“Missed you too. Even if you can be an overprotective ass sometimes.”

“Sorry. I’ll do better next time.” I hold her close for a few more seconds before finally stepping back. My gaze dips to her chest and I snicker. “Hey, look, twinsies.”

She looks down at where the blue paint she’d splattered onto my shirt rubbed off on hers. Right across her left breast. She swipes at the spot and somehow manages to streak it across the other boob, making me laugh even louder. “You think that’s funny, huh?” She arches a dark brow at me and then, without any further warning, flicks her paintbrush at my arm. Sprinkles of blue land on my skin, from my wrist all the way up to my bicep. Then she starts to laugh. “You look like you have a case of Smurf measles.”

Now she’s gone and done it. “I’m way hotter than a Smurf.”

While she’s rolling her eyes, I dart for the paint can, prying the lid off and dipping my brush in before she catches on. When I whirl back around, her eyes go comically wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Before she can utter another word, I sweep my brush all the way down her left cheek to her chin and then paint a matching line on the other side. “Now who’s the Smurf?”

My throat tightens up though when she closes the distance between us until her lips are just brushing mine. Her tongue sweeps across my lips, and a low groan emits from my mouth. The next moment, she grabs the back of my head in her hands and is rubbing her cheeks all over mine.

She steps back and admires her handiwork. “I’d say both of us.”

My heart is still pounding away from that teasing almost-kiss. She should look ridiculous with blue paint streaked all over her, but instead, it only makes her look hotter. I’m tempted by an urge to take my brush and drag it all over her skin, from head to toe. Then, I’d drop her right there on the plastic floor covering and find out what kind of art we could create together.

Based on how she’s staring at my lips—the way a starving man looks at a sandwich—her mind must be in the gutter too. She sways a little toward me.

Bennett’s voice interrupts the moment. “Hey, is everything okay up there? I heard some loud noises!”

“We’re fine! Just spilled a little paint!” Inara hollers back. She gives herself a shake and then nudges the paint can with her foot. “Come on. The sooner we get this room finished up...”

She doesn’t finish the rest, but it’s all the incentive I need. I scramble over to the paint and start slapping it on the wall in record time. Inara laughs softly to herself, but she’s got a little extra spring in her step too. With the two of us on a mission, we make short work of the room. We finish the smaller guest bedroom just as quickly. When we’re done, I follow her lead and head downstairs with our empty paint cans and brushes.

Inara places the empty cans on the floor in the kitchen and the paintbrushes in a bucket half full of water. She then turns to Bennett, who’s already begun to clean up some of the supplies. “I think we’re done for today. Tony just got back today from training, and I’m beat too.”

I glance around the main living area. “Where’s Trevor?”

“Paint ran out for the rooms down here, so I sent him on a paint run with Lucy,” Bennett says.

Inara’s eyes widen. “You paired sweet Trevor with Lucy? Oh man. Poor Trevor. I bet today ends up being way more traumatizing for him than training must have been.”

“It’s good for him. Builds character.” I wink and then pull out my phone. “Let me check in and ask if he needs a ride home.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Bennett says. “Either Lucy or I can take him, no problem. He’s kind of quiet, but seems like a good man.”

“He is. That’s why I want to make sure that he doesn’t get lost in all the upheaval that’s been going on lately.” I text him the plan and when he confirms he’s good with it, I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

When Inara gazes at me, there’s this warm, soft expression in her eyes. An expression I could get used to seeing. Oblivious to the moment we’re having, Bennett finally takes a long look at us. “So, that’s what all the shrieking upstairs was about—you both got attacked by the paint can.”

I shake Bennett’s hand, eager to get my wife home. “Thanks for letting me pitch in. Hopefully next time I can stick around for longer.”

When Bennett releases and, after he hugs Inara goodbye, I grab my wife’s hand and tug her toward the front door and to our respective cars. On our separate drives home, I caution myself not to get my hopes up. Just because we got a little hot and bothered for a minute there while painting doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re going to cap off my first night back with hot sex.

Then again, it doesn’t mean we’re not either.

I push down a little harder on the accelerator and hurry home.

Of course, Inara has already beaten me there. Wordlessly, we walk up the driveway to the front door. She unlocks it, steps inside, and I follow behind her. Once I’m in the entryway, I turn and close the door. The dead bolt slides home with an audible click. I barely turn back around before she’s launching herself at my chest.

I pull her into my arms and lift her a couple of inches off the floor while I press my lips into hers like I’m in need of air. Her sweet tongue glides out and touches mine, all heat and confidence, with just the slightest tinge of curiosity. We kiss and it becomes everything I want all our other kisses to be. I lift her a little higher and then carry her the few steps to the couch, where I set her on the back edge and position myself between her legs. I grab her by the hips and pull her as close as I possibly can. I want every piece of this woman. I want her to have every piece of me.

I feel at home, with her, for the first time in a very long time.

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