Page 177 of Withered

I paint for a while, but then distract myself by glancing at Jake. The sun shines upon him, giving him a golden glow. Sweat drips from his hair down to his temple, greeting his cheek, meeting his jaw, and eventually dripping down.

“See, Evans, I can do it.” Jake gives me a dimpled smile.

I nodded, smiling back.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Hmm?” I ask him, and he points a finger at the fence. I find my hand stuck to it. I jerk back from the fence as if it were on fire.Oh no. My left palm is now completely coated in white paint.

He smirks at my reaction. “Now look, who can’t paint?”

I span the space between us with a forced smile. “How about I give you a little something?”

I go on my tiptoes and kiss the side of his neck. His pulse quickens, and I know just what to do. I lift my left arm to paint his cheek, but this idiot is fast. He catches my wrist in a swift motion and spins me around, so my back is pressed against his chest.

“Wanna try that again?” His breath feels as hot as the sun against my ear.

Despite the heat radiating from his body, goosebumps appear on my skin. His hand tightens around my left palm, while his other hand secures my right hand around my waist, pressing me tight against him.

He softly moves my left palm from my legs to my thigh and then upwards, covering me with white paint. My mouth opens, making a choked sound that sounds like a whimper, a groan, and a sigh. He comes to a halt at the hem of my shirt and guides his palm inside. My stomach and the area above my belly button but just behind my boobs are now coated with paint.Boobs.I’m even beginning to sound like him. This boy has perverted me to an extent I was unaware of.

With all my willpower, I free myself from his grasp, which was easier this time. He must have been having more fun than I was. I grab the paint bucket and hurl it at him.

He is too stunned to process what just happened. It takes him a moment to recover, and then he looks down at himself. His chest is completely covered in white paint. Slowly lifting his head, his gaze locks on mine in a solid stare that makes the bucket in my hand slip.Oh no. I’m dead.

OnceJakeregisterswhat'shappened, his glare turns hot. With his eyes fixed on mine, he glides his hands down his chest in a slow, intense show. My gaze follows his every moment, his big palms now covered with white paint; the mere act is so sexy.

“You’re so dead,” he says as he shows me his palm and moves his fingers in a wave gesture.

I give him a wide smile and say, “Only if you catch me.”

With that said, he marches toward me like a predator, and I sprint the other way. But, given his height, he has an advantage. My strides are shorter compared to his, and he catches me in seconds.

He grabs my wrist and spins me so that I’m flush against his chest. The warmth could be felt even with the paint on his chest. His forest green eyes shine in a way that makes it difficult for me to express their depth.

His palm brushes against my cheek, and I’m aware of the paint on my face, but I’m in a daze. The electrifying spark in his eyes is now passing through his palm to my body. He runs his hand down my jaw, then to my collarbone. The tingles are dancing all over me with just a light touch.

“Jake,” I say, my voice gravely in my throat.

He hmms in response, his gaze falling to my collarbone and then to my face.

My breathing becomes labored, and my chest rises. The more I inhale, the more my breasts press against him, until it becomes too much to bear. “Kiss me, please,” I plead.

The moment I finish the line, his lips crush mine. This kiss is not in a nice way, where we take time to satisfy or tease each other, or where we simply brush our lips together. It’s just hunger. I part my lips when he brushes mine, taking him in completely. Our tongues tangle in absolute bliss. Groans and moans cover the air around us. I adore how he gasps into my lips as though clinging to a thread.

I adore every inch of his body, especially him, and this is how I know that I am falling hard for him. I don’t care that it’s only been about two months. My emotions have never been more intense.

He lets go of my wrist and moves his hand to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer while my arms go around his neck. He tilts his head to one side, and the kiss becomes deeper and hotter than before. I use this chance to run my hands down his newly painted chest, tight muscles softly cutting under my palm.

He interrupts the kiss and sucks on my bottom lip with an agonizing grunt. We breathe into each other’s mouths; our faces are barely a few inches apart.

“You make me so fucking hot,” Jake whispers against my skin. His accent is like the cherry on top. Sometimes, I want to stop and listen to him speak all day. British accents are the sexiest of all. Hands down.

I hold his intense gaze, but he breaks it and goes near my ear, saying, “You look so dirty yet so fucking sexy. It makes me want to do all the dirty things I’m imagining right now.”

“You know, it’s just paint, right?” I state.

“So? I can think about some things.” Jake smirks.

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