Page 128 of Yearning For Her

All the house needed was a little tender, loving care. They’d been giving it just that for the past month, working daily to fix everything in need of repair and bring out the personality hidden within these walls. Kian had proven himself quite the handyman, and he unsurprisingly looked sexy as sin with a toolbelt on. More than once, work had been put on hold because Willow simply couldn’t keep her hands off him.

He’d taken to calling it putting out fires, though the flames never really died out. Not even a little.

Willow grinned. Even with those frequent interruptions, they’d accomplished so much. The major repairs were finished, leaving mostly cosmetic work to be done. She had her studio space downstairs, furnished and waiting for when she was ready to start seeing clients again, and Kian’s painting studio was on the second floor, in the turret room overlooking the river.

And as a surprise, he’d set up a whole room just for her to keep books in. Her own private library. Kian had already unpacked her romance books when he’d revealed the room to her, but with every book she owned already upon them—and all the books from his apartment in their own neat section—there was still so much space on those shelves.

It was her goal to fill every inch of those shelves with books.

“I thought I was the painter,” Kian said.

Startled from her thoughts, Willow twisted to look back at Kian as he sauntered across the room toward her. He was shirtless and glamourless, wings trailing behind him lazily. He rarely hid his true form while they were here. Willow wouldn’t ever complain about that.

She smiled. “Seems I’m the artiste today.”

“Hmm.” Kian ran his gaze down her body, grin widening.

She knew what he saw—she was wearing old, paint-stained denim overalls and a white tank top, with her hair twisted up into a messy bun and smudges of purple paint on her arms and hands.

“Your work is certainly stirring a reaction in me, Violet,” he purred, stopping behind her.

Heat always blazed in her core when he was near, but when he purred in that deep, seductive voice of his? God, there was no resisting him.

As if you’d ever want to, Willow.

Willow gestured to the surrounding room. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

She tapped her chin. “I don’t know… I think I missed a spot.”

He turned his head, scanning the walls. A crease appeared between his eyebrows when he looked back up at her. “Where?”

“Right here.” Willow touched the roller to the tip of his nose and pulled it away, grinning. “Now it’s perfect.”

Kian pressed his lips together, letting out a heavy sigh. “So that’s how you want to play, is it?”

Her heart quickened in anticipation. She nodded.

Grasping her hip, he reached an arm around her and lowered his hand into the paint tray. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Willow. You’re mine.” He lifted his paint-coated hand and pressed it over her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Let my mark serve as a reminder, mortal.”

That inner heat intensified, spreading through Willow. She turned toward him carefully, steadied by his hold. “I’m not sure that’s enough. Once I take off these clothes, it’ll be gone…”

Kian’s glowing blue eyes smoldered. “Then I’ll have to take your clothes off”—he hooked his arms around Willow’s backside and lifted her over his shoulder, hand returning to her ass—“and ensure I leave something a little longer-lasting behind.”

Willow shrieked with laughter as he turned and walked forward. She braced a hand on his back to support herself. When he talked like that, he made her melt. She loved it. Her free hand crept to his wings, and she lightly trailed her fingertips upward from the base of one, making him shiver. “You’re probably covered in paint now, Kian.”

“And?” He squeezed her ass again.

Willow’s eyes widened as Kian neared the bed. “I’m covered in paint too.”

“I know.”

“Kian, the bedding!”

“I’ll buy you new bedding, Willow.” He tossed her onto the bed.

She bounced, and before she’d even hit the mattress again, Kian’s hands had unbuckled the straps of her overalls. He hooked the garment with his fingers, peeled it off, and tossed it aside. Then he was over her, caging her in with his hands to either side of her head. The shadows cast on his features made his eyes even brighter, even hungrier. Her pussy clenched with a needful, deepening ache.

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