Page 34 of Inevitable Love
“It’s giving me all kinds of fun ideas. Naked painting? Naked anything.”
That finally gets a reaction, and Maggie pops up, paintbrush in hand.
“You can’t talk like that, Jackson,” she admonishes.
I lose the battle on holding back a grin. “It’s hard to take you serious with paint on your nose.” She goes to wipe it off, paintbrush still in her hand. “And now in your hair.” It’s fucking adorable.
Slipping the paintbrush into a cup, she stands and puffs out a breath. Frustrating Magnolia is high on mylist of favorite things to do. Just spending time with her is also at the top of said list. There’s no harm in admitting that I like hanging out with her, spending time doing anything with her. Hell, I’m even helping her paint her store when I loathe painting.
Alice would be here helping if she were already in town, I’m sure of it.
But Alice doesn’t want to bone the baker.
And I do. I’ve halfway undressed Maggie by the time she meets me at the end of the counter, and I’ve mentally calculated exactly how long it’ll take us to get this project finished and get back to my place and get naked.
“Soooo, what happened at the station…”
“Was amazing.” I speak over her, drowning out whatever rationalization she was about to throw at me.
Her cheeks turn that shade of pink that I like so much. “But it can’t happen again.”
I crowd her, not stopping until we’re nearly chest to chest, and glare down at her. “I don’t much like the sound of that. What I do like the sound of, is the one you make right before you?—”
Delicate fingertips smash against my lips.
“Jackson, please. This is hard enough, being around each other and acting like nothing happened between us. Especially when you laid a hot and heavy lip-lock on me in front of all your friends.” Her eyes seek mine for understanding.
“Mags, it was a kiss after a heated call.” I play off our epic first kiss, even if it bites to have to do so. “It’s fine.”
She shakes her head, that red hair wild and unruly, looking like a halo around her head. “It’s not fine. We talked about this.”
I want to argue. But now isn’t the time or place.I’m just going to have to wear her down, and the best way I figure is to challenge Maggie. She’s never let me down before. She always faces her fears.
“Now, put your sexual charms away and help me get this shop painted before I have to get back here in the morning to bake. I don’t wanna be up all night painting.”
Me neither, especially when there’re plenty of other things I’d like to be up all night doing with her, even if I know that’s a pipe dream.
The disappointment is real, but still, I relent. “Okay. Where do you want me to start?”
An hour later, I’ve rolled a first coat on all the walls and am taking a break, enjoying the view of Maggie with her arms stretched overhead as she does the cut-in work.
The song shifts as she puts the final touches on the corner, then climbs down from the ladder. She’s caught up in the moment, singing and dancing, and I’m struck by how effortlessly beautiful she is.
She shimmies up to where I’m sprawled in a chair, looking me dead in the eyes as she sings about wanting to be with me everywhere. My heart does that weird stutter-step thing it does when she’s happy like this. And then she dances away, gathering up her supplies and heading to the back room, like she hasn’t just stunned me stupid simply by being herself.
Why can’t we explore this attraction again? Would my sisterreallybe that upset if I started something with her best friend? We’re all adults now, unlike last time. I’m starting to care less and less about how Alice would feel, and more and more about how amazing it is to just be with Maggie.
“Did you get the rolling done?” Maggie calls from the back room over the sound of running water.
Guess break time is over.
“Almost, starting the second coat now.” With a groan, I stand to face this final sprint session of painting. I’m halfway down the wall when I see Maggie return from the corner of my eye. She lifts her arms again, her T-shirt riding up, teasing me with a glimpse of the perfect pale skin of her stomach. Her tits ride high and firm, and she arches her back. The roller brush clangs into the ceiling.
“Jackson!”
I rip my horny eyes off her glorious breasts to inspect the damage to her otherwise perfect paint job. A giant splotch of shell pink adorns the ceiling.
“Shit. Sorry.”
