Page 163 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Always,” he promises.

He stiffens on top of me, and I scream, both of us climaxing in unison.

Pressing his forehead to mine, our respiration mingling as we both catch our breath, he murmurs, “And Penny…”

Shit.

Hearing him whisper her name is like a dull spoon scooping out my heart until I’m left hollow.

“I’m sorry––”

“Sh…,” he interrupts.

A tear slips down my cheek. He kisses it away and continues. “She’s mine too. I don’t need a paternity test to prove it.”

“You don’t…?” I swallow the lump in my throat and squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at the man I’ll never deserve. “You don’t want to know for sure?”

“I alreadydoknow for sure.” He shifts his weight onto his elbows and brushes a few strands of hair away from my face. “She’s my lucky Penny, Mads. She brought me back to you.”

I bite my lip.

“You’re sure?” I breathe out. I’m terrified if I speak too loudly, my voice will erase the last fifteen minutes, and I’ll wake up in bed––alone. Without Milo or his unconditional love for our baby girl.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life, Mads. I love you. And if this didn’t change how I feel about you, I’m pretty sure nothing will.”

“Pretty sure?” I challenge.

A breath of laughter escapes him, and he places another kiss on my swollen lips. “Someone’s pushy.”

“You know me,” I quip.

With his forehead pressed against mine and a soft smile on his lips, he mutters, “All right, Mads. I’mpositive. You’re the one for me. Always and forever.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m kinda sick of all this drama.”

He chuckles again and kisses my forehead. “Agreed.”

“The painting, though…” I rub my thumb against the smudge on his cheek. “I could get used to it.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. You look sexy with paint on your face. Reminds me of theotherareas I’ve seen you get dirty.”

Running his nose along mine, he teases, “Don’t tempt me. This stuff isn’t as easy to wash off as the other.”

“So, you weren’t planning on me storming the hotel and saving the day?”

“Not exactly.” With a tired smile, he drops another kiss to my forehead. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” I murmur, basking in the feel of his soft lips against me when only a little while ago, I was convinced I’d never experience it again. Wrapping my arms around his back, I squeeze him as tight as I can.

With a low chuckle, he mutters, “You all right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay now. You?’

“Yeah, babe. I’m great.”

Forcing myself to let him go, I look back up at him and brush my finger against the dark, oily paint marring his cheek. “So, what were you painting?”

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