Page 106 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

I shake my head, holding his heated gaze and already dripping, even though he hasn’t touched me yet. He cocks his head to the side, and his mouth connects with mine. His kiss is hard. Forceful. And so freaking hot, a whimper escapes me as he shoves his tongue between my lips, mimicking what I’d kill for him to do between my legs.

“You gonna make me ask you again? Or am I gonna have to dirty up these clothes for you to listen to me?”

“Depends on how you plan on dirtying them up,” I volley back.

He smiles against my mouth and pushes himself away from the counter, leaving way too much distance between us as he rummages through the cabinet beside me. Paint. Brushes. A bunch of clear liquids. My curiosity piques as he moves around the room, prepping all of his tools for…an art session?

“What are you doing?” I ask, unable to help myself.

Once everything is ready, he pulls out an easel and a massive canvas as big as I am.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” I repeat. “I mean, I know you said you needed to paint, but you also told me to get naked, so…”

With the tip of a paintbrush, he mixes dark red with bright orange but doesn’t bother answering me. I watch, transfixed as he makes a small figure-eight on a wooden palette, dragging his paintbrush through the mixture before he glides it from my temple to my chin.

“Milo!” I screech, jerking away from him.

“I told you I was going to dirty you up. Now, are you gonna get naked, or am I gonna ruin your clothes?”

I rub my hand against my cheek, trying to clean it off, but all it does is spread the damage to my palm.

Greeeaaat.

“I thought you were supposed to be painting on the canvas, not on me,” I mutter, assessing my fire-colored fingertips.

His mouth curves up on one side. “I’m a good multi-tasker. Chop, chop.”

“Is this toxic?” I point to my cheek.

“Figured this could get messy, so I bought non-toxic paint and asked Jos to stock it for me the other day. Any more questions, Nancy Drew?”

With a huff, I wash my hands in the sink and wipe them on a thick, industrial towel hanging next to it when I feel Milo at my back, reaching for the hem of my T-shirt.

“Oh, so now you feel like helping?” I quip, glaring at him over my shoulder.

He chuckles dryly and tugs the shirt over my head, careful to keep it away from my cheek. He presses a soft kiss to my bare shoulder.

I close my eyes and lean into his touch as he makes short work of my bra, adding it to my neatly folded shirt on the counter.

“Anything else, Picasso?”

Without a word, he drags his fingers along the waistline of my jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs. Using his shoulders for balance, I step out of the dark material while questioning my sanity for the hundred-thousandth time since I met Milo.

But this is what he does. He gets under my skin. He convinces me to be free. To be wild. But safe too. Without the alcohol or the drugs. Just me and him. And it’s a high I’ll never be able to replicate without him.

His hot breath kisses my pubic bone as he leans closer and presses his lips to my polka dot underwear.

Taking in the gorgeous man on his knees in front of me, my smile almost hurts.

“Are you teasing me, Mr. Anders? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure we both know who’s better at this game.”

A low growl vibrates from his throat, and he tugs my underwear down. Losing my balance, I grab onto the counter behind me and look down. His heated gaze holds mine with a silent challenge, daring me to question who the bigger tease is. And with a single damn look, I’m left wet and uncomfortable.

How is this man so freaking hot?

My thighs clench together in reflex, and my smile falters, causing his to widen.

“Don’t tempt me, Ms. Walker.” He leans closer and kisses my pubic bone again, sucking a bit of my flesh into his mouth as his fingers dig into my hips. Like he can’t help himself.

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