Page 95 of Up All Night

“Jeremy?” He was the boyfriend she’d glossed over when talking about her exes, and yes, I remembered the name because I had wanted to eventually circle back to him when she was ready to talk about him.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, finally looking at me. Her body had curled inward, like she was ashamed. Ashamed of something that was not her fault.

I hated Jeremy.

I didn’t know the guy, but seeing how badly he’d affected Halle was all the information I needed to hate him.

“He never physically hurt me,” she hurried to add.

Like that somehow made how he treated her okay?

“I tried really hard to make him happy.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “But I messed up a lot. I’d either say the wrong thing, make dinner wrong, not get ready in time, or somehow screw up something that he thought was impossible to screw up.”

I could hear what she was saying, but I couldn’t comprehend it. How could this amazing woman been made to feel this way? How could a man ever treat her so horribly?

I wasn’t sure if I had the right words for the moment, but I did know I couldn’t go another second without trying to make her happy again. Halle and sadness shouldn’t go together. She was the sun breaking out over the horizon, she was the warm breeze when it was cold, the spark of hope when all felt lost.

Or maybe she was just all of that for me.

The strong need to make her smile again had me reaching over to dip my finger into the bucket of paint. She looked at me in confusion, and when I swiped my finger across my chest, her jaw dropped.

With paint still on my finger—and without thinking—I quickly dabbed the tip of her nose, leaving a gray dot behind.

Her surprised look turned to one of shock before her mouth turned into a wicked grin. “I cannot believe you just did that,” she exclaimed.

I laughed, giving her the second she needed to dip her finger and swipe it across my cheek. Now she was smiling, and all felt right in the world again.

Dramatic? Cheesy? Maybe. But Halle being happy meant a lot to me.

I dipped my finger again.

“Don’t start a competition you can’t win, Vanderhall,” she warned.

I ignored her warning and darted my hand out to swipe my finger along her forehead.

“You asked for it.” She plunged her hand into the bucket.

I hurried to join my hand in there with hers, knowing this would be war. If our past competitions had taught me anything, it was that we both played to win.

Chaos ensued. Paint was everywhere. We chased each other and went back and forth to the paint bucket to reload. We were laughing and trash talking, and although we were covered in paint, I couldn’t have asked for a better night with her.

I softly tackled her to the ground, pinning her beneath me. “Do you surrender?”

She shook her head, her eyes bright with excitement. “Never.”

I knew she was going to say that, which had me smiling.

As I stared down at her blue eyes, her hair in a messy bun with streaks of paint, I also knew tonight would be something I remembered forever.

My eyes dipped down to her lips, which were somehow paint-free. I couldn’t feel any paint on my lips either and wondered if subconsciously we’d avoided each other’s mouths because we had hoped to make use of them later.

I slowly lowered my head, inching our mouths closer and closer, giving her time to push me away if she wasn’t wanting this right now. Thankfully she didn’t stop me, and when our lips touched, a sense of both relief and need went through me.

She pulled me closer, kissing me like she needed it as much as I did. The feel of her greedy hands running up and down my back and into my hair quickly increased my arousal.

Even though I was holding myself up on my elbow, I still worried about my weight on her, with only the drop cloth between her and the cement floor.

Placing my hand under her head, I rolled us over so she was on top, to spare her from being on the hard ground. And man, it had never felt so good to have a woman on top of me. Feeling her body on mine was a sweet ecstasy I hadn’t expected.

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