Page 166 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

“They’re going to see it,” Logan muttered, his face a bright red color as if I hadn’t seen him naked a million times.

And he wasn’t even naked right now, he had his briefs on—which happened to be the same ones that he’d worn for Geraldine’s sculpture.

“They’re not going to see it,” I huffed, cocking my head as I tried to get the shadow of his abs just right.

“Where are you going to put it so they won’t see it? You know Ari has a habit of nosing around places. He’ll sense it when he gets into our place, and then I’ll be done for.”

“We can hang it in here. I never letanyonein here,” I soothed, biting down on my lip as I tried to concentrate around his panic.

I’d gotten the idea to paint him after another dinner party at Geraldine’s. If she got a life-size replica of him in stone, it only seemed fitting that I get a replica of him in paint—even if I got the real-life version every day.

“Make sure to get the proportions right,” he said, gesturing to his erect dick that was poking out from the top of his briefs. “They can at least be shocked and awed when they see it.”

“They’re not going to see it,” I repeated for the twentieth time.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “you’ll see.”

“Is there anything you can do about—” I gestured to his cock. As much as I loved the thing, it was very distracting when I was trying to concentrate.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “How else is it supposed to be when you’re painting me dressed like that?”

The fact that he’d only agreed to let me paint him if I did it in lingerie had been his main negotiating point when I’d first suggested the painting.

I’d regretted it every session—although it did help with me getting proportions right.

It’s just that it also made it difficult to make it through a session. I was only human. How could I be expected to keep away from him when he looked like this?

I tried to paint for a few more minutes, but when the head of his dick popped out from the briefs all the way, I was done for.

It was a perk of the job, I decided, as I set my brush down and walked toward him, my insides throbbing with need.

“Let’s add after-painting sex to the list,” he growled as he pulled me on top of him.

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Sometimes it was still difficult to keep the demons at bay—to keep away the memories of those nights and those days, and the years I’d spent hating myself for a choice I actually hadn’t made.

Sometimes it got overwhelming thinking of all that had been taken from me.

But every time that happened, Logan would just hold me close, make me laugh, make me come, and make me forget because the present was so good it outweighed the past.

With Logan, I found a freedom I couldn’t have imagined. Not just a freedom to move from the past and be happy, but a freedom to feel all the things that I’d tried so hard to keep at bay. He didn’t care if there were times I cried or raged, or when I couldn’t sleep because the monsters in my head had escaped.

He told me it was a privilege to be there for me, that every piece I showed him only made him love me more.

And I believed him.

I believed him now when he told me everything would be all right.

I believed him when he told me he loved me and promised me a lifetime of smiles and laughs.

I believed him when he told me someday we’d be the best parents to our kids we would adopt, and we’d give them what our parents never did.

And with that belief, came a rebirth. I’d thought that I would never be able to get my pieces back, but what I’d really needed was to make new ones with him.

I was scattered, and I didn’t know that what would put me back together again…

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