Page 93 of Until Tomorrow
“He’d probably think we meant something kinky,” I told her. “Like…”
“Like we bought some kind of dragon dildo.” She smiled deviously. I wanted to ask her if that was a thing, but I also didn’t want to know if it was.
“He’d probably think our sex life finally got interesting.”
“He called our sex life a saltine cracker.”What the hell?
“He thinks I should fuck you over the dining room table,” I admitted quietly, my gaze glancing to the staff briefly. They were far enough away that we had privacy.Thank God.
“I agree. You should fuck me over the dining room table.” She stopped painting to glance over at me, arching a brow suggestively. “Or you could lay me out and have me for dessert.”
“Eva!” I choked on my spit, but she merely shrugged.
“We have a beautiful table, Logan,” Eva continued. “It’d be a shame not to use it for all its capacity.”
“Duly noted,” I whispered and filed that away for things to add to our checklist of dating adventures, because why not? We were adults. “How does one paint a dragon?”
“However you want,” she said. “I’m making mine a coordinated set.”
“I think I’m just going to try to make it look presentable,” I admitted. I wasn’t sure I could do much else.
Within an hour, I was folded over the table in concentration as I tried to get all the different colors in the right spots.Who in their right mind thought a kid could be this attentive to detail?There were so many itty bitty little nooks and crannies to color.
“Put your tongue away.” Eva giggled as she tapped the pad of her finger to my tongue, which was sticking out as I focused.
“Sorry.” I licked my lips and sat up a little taller. “Why are there so many little spots? Franklin is looking a little worse for wear over here.”
Yes, I named the damned statue Franklin.He needed a name.
“I love Franklin. I’m putting him in the kitchen,” she said with only the kind of pride my wife could have for my miserable-looking dragon figure. “Esther is looking fantastic. I’m making her purple to match Vera.”
“A pair of purple dragons named Esther and Vera,” I mused. “I like it.”
“You better,” she told me. “My old ladies are going in your office to judge you while you work.”
“I’ll need them to sign NDAs,” I teased, making her laugh. She reached for her glass of wine and took a long sip. For just a moment, something akin to doubt weaseled its way through me and ignited my anxiety. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “You are having fun, right? I tried to think of something different… is this too different? Should I have toned it down a little?”
Eva pressed a finger to my lips, shutting me up. Her smile was soft and reassuring.
“Slay the tiny anxiety dragons, sweetheart,” she whispered. “This is perfect. I love it. And I am putting Franklin and our entire schlong of dragons on display for everyone to see because I love them so much.”
Yeah, anxiety gone at the mention of schlong.I laughed, unable to help it. It was so stupid.
“Okay,” I said. “But we’ve painted three dragons between the two of us in one hour. And really, mine’s only half a colored dragon at this point. We may have overshot how much we could paint today.”
“How long did you rent out the store for?” she asked, her gaze sliding over the collection of figures.
“All day, but they still close at five,” I told her.
“We may have to sacrifice some dragons,” she murmured with the utmost seriousness. “Or we can take the rest home and paint them together there. Still worth it.”
Oh, good.
“Here,” she swiped another dragon off the table, “paint me the one with cats. I want to put it on my nightstand.”
“For you, I’ll do two,” I replied and reached across the table for the matching one.
Once more, I ended up folded over the table with my tongue sticking out as I tried to pay attention to all the details. I lost myself in the moment with her—admiring her, laughing with her, and ultimately falling a little more in love with her.
