Page 33 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“I’ll go tuck her into bed, and then we can talk. Be right back, you stay there,” I said.

I cradled Penny in my arms and carried her across the hall, placing her in her bed and pulling the covers up to hershoulders. She turned over in her sleep and grabbed her favorite bear, undisturbed by the change in her sleeping surface.

Walking quietly back across the hall, I went into Violet’s studio and shut the door.

“Talk to me,” I said gently as I sat down next to her.

“It’s stupid,” she said tearfully.

I hadn’t seen Violet cry before. The sight alarmed me, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I tried to gently prod her into speaking one more time.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid,” I assured her. “But even if it is, that’s okay. I still want to hear it.”

She wiped her eyes again with the hem of her oversized shirt and took a deep breath.

“I just finished this painting,” she said, waving her arm at the completed canvas in front of her. “And I feel like I’m living in a dream. Walter commissioned two pieces from me today, and I’m just so happy I couldn’t help but cry. See? Stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” I said, tucking her honey-blond hair behind her ear. “And I think this is your best piece yet. I feel like I’m in the clearing on our wedding day.”

“I’m really proud of it, but I just know I’m going to mess this up somehow,” she said.

“The painting?” I asked, confused.

“No,” she shook her head. “My chances at being a real artist. My pieces might be good, but what if I just fizzle out? What if this is the last good painting I ever do, and I never get any more commissions?”

“That’s a lot of ‘what-ifs’ for one painting,” I pointed out.

She shrugged her shoulders, wiping the tears from her eyes once more. I didn’t have any experience with cheering her up and wasn’t sure what exactly I could do to reassure her. I knew I had to try, though.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her away from the painting and toward her supplies. “Look at all of these tools and supplies. Look at these pieces you’ve already completed. This is the room of an artist. You have many more paintings yet to come, and each one will be even more beautiful than the last.”

She frowned at the paint supplies and shrugged. “I just don’t feel like a real artist right now.”

“You look like one,” I said simply.

“Really?” she asked quizzically.

“Actually, now that you mention it, something’s missing…” I replied thoughtfully, stroking my chin as I studied her. “Ah! I know what it is.”

I dabbed my pointer finger into the paint on her palette and wiped it across her cheek. “There! Just like an artist,” I declared.

Her eyes widened with surprise, and her lips parted slightly. “You. Did. Not,” she said in mock anger.

I grinned at her, daring her to stay sad in light of my antics. What I hadn’t counted on was what she would do next.

Her hand reached up to wipe the paint from her cheek. She stared at the glob for a moment, and then she reached toward me to wipe it on my shirt.

“Ah! No, I’m not the artist,” I replied with a laugh. I held up the palette like a shield to prevent her from touching me, resulting in even more paint smears on her hand and arm.

“You’re in trouble now,” she said, finally smiling as she grabbed an entire bottle of blue paint from the shelf next to her.

She managed to squirt me with it before I grabbed her, smashing the paint between us and causing it to spatter everywhere. We were both laughing as I tackled her to the ground and wrestled the bottle out of her hands.

“No more paint for you, missy,” I said breathlessly. “Clearly, it’s a dangerous implement in your hands!”

“Hey, you started it,” she said with a raised eyebrow, wiping her paint-covered hand down my chest.

Between the look in her eye, our proximity, and the way her hand was moving lower on my torso, I felt my blood rushing toward my groin as my penis became erect. I shifted my hips away from her to avoid her noticing the effect she was having on me, but I wasn’t fast enough.

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