Taylor couldn’t think of anything more satisfying than lying in bed with Julia sprawled across her chest. She ran her fingers through Julia’s gorgeous mane of hair. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
Julia lifted her head. Her grin managed to be cocky and kind of drowsy at the same time. “I do. Which I can own because I can say the same about you. Ah-may-zing.”
Taylor lifted her own head so she could plant a kiss on Julia’s mouth. Her lips were swollen from kissing, and it gave Taylor a jolt of satisfaction to know she’d been the one to do it. “And sexy. Maybe the sexiest creature I’ve ever known.”
Julia dropped her forehead to Taylor’s chest. “Stop.”
“I will not.” She gave Julia’s hair a gentle tug.
“Mmm.”
“You like that, huh?” Taylor asked, half joking.
Julia lifted her head again and looked into Taylor’s eyes. “I do.”
Despite the simplicity of the statement, the intensity in Julia’s face made Taylor’s stomach flip. Especially when combined with the casual bossing around comment Taylor had been unable to chase from her mind. “As in, you really like it?”
Julia closed her eyes and flopped onto her back. “You’re judging me, aren’t you?”
There were a lot of words Taylor could come up with in this moment. Judging was not one of them. “Not at all.”
Julia sat up suddenly, turning to face Taylor and crossing her legs. “You can say it. I know.”
“Say what?” That she found the direction of this conversation sexy as fuck?
She winced. “Nothing.”
Taylor sat up, too. “Come on. Talk to me.”
Julia lifted a shoulder but wouldn’t make eye contact. “It’s weird. I’m a sassy, independent woman, and I like having my hair pulled.”
The comment did way more than make her stomach flip. “It’s not weird.”
“Most people think so.” She huffed out a breath. “Erica thought so.”
Taylor put her index finger under Julia’s chin and gently tipped it up. “I’m not Erica.”
Another big sigh. “I know. You’re so much better for me than she ever was, which is saying something given how short a time we’ve been going out.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“You’re also, by your own admission, super old-fashioned.”
Oh. They were going there. “Old-fashioned when it comes to relationships. Romance. Not everything.”
Julia looked at her with a mixture of suspicion and affection. “You don’t have to say that.”
“You think I’m vanilla, don’t you? Be honest.” Taylor shook her head, surprised by how disappointed the assumption left her.
“It’s not an insult. Vanilla is a great flavor. I love vanilla. Most of the women I sleep with are vanilla.”
Taylor ignored her visceral reaction to Julia’s use of the phrase “most of the women I sleep with.” “I’m not saying it’s good or bad, I’m only saying maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”
That caught Julia’s attention. Her hands, which had been gesturing back and forth a moment before, stilled. She looked right into Taylor’s eyes, sending Taylor’s pulse skittering with a mixture of nerves and want. “Tell me.”
This wasn’t how she wanted this conversation to go. Not that she’d given it all that much thought. But when—hell, if—they went there, she wanted it to come from a place of mutual curiosity and desire. At this moment, she was on the defensive, wanting to prove herself, but also afraid she might scare Julia off.
“Well?” Julia had this impatience about her that was sexier than it had any right to be.
She took a deep breath. Tread carefully. “I like lots of flavors.”
Julia shot her a look of mild exasperation. “That doesn’t tell me much.”
She decided to stick with the ice cream metaphor, at least for the time being. “I like different textures, hard and soft. Ribbons of something unexpected.”
Julia nodded. “Okay. Variety is good. Are you telling me you like everything?”
Taylor shook her head. She had no idea how this was going to play out, but she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t take the chance. “Not everything. Mostly, I like to be the one choosing the flavor, deciding how it’s going to be served. Where I’m going to have it, whether I’m going to eat it fast or really slow down and savor.”
She watched understanding bloom in Julia’s eyes. Understanding followed by—God, please don’t let her be imagining it—arousal. “So, you like to be in control.”
“Yes.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “How in control?”
Taylor took her time answering, letting herself enjoy how this seemed to be playing out. “As in control as my partner wants me to be. I’m all about consent. Enthusiastic consent.”
Julia’s lips parted and she let out a shaky breath. It was one of the sexiest things Taylor had ever seen. “Does that include restraints?”
Were they really having this conversation? “If she wants them.”
“So, if I wanted them?”
“I can’t think of a thing that would give me more pleasure.”
Julia didn’t speak. She merely nodded. Hopefully, a sign her imagination was hard at work, not that she was having second thoughts.
“I’d want to talk it through first, understand what you like, what you want. There’s a lot of variation still, both in terms of what we do and how we do it.”
A slow smile spread across Julia’s face. “Can I say I want you to make all the decisions?”
The image of Julia, naked and bound to her headboard, danced through Taylor’s mind. “Once we’re there, yes. But I need to ask you some questions before.” Taylor tipped her head to the side. “And you’ll need a safe word.”
She could see Julia swallow. A flush rose in her cheeks and spread to the tops of her breasts. It was all Taylor could do not to grab her and tie her up right then and there. Julia licked her lips but didn’t speak. She merely nodded. Taylor smiled. Consent came in all different shapes and sizes. Julia, speechless, might be her new favorite.
* * *
Julia scowled at the stack of supplies Taylor had instructed her to buy from the hardware store. Half of them resembled torture devices, and not the sexy kind. The other half looked like things she’d use to frost a cake. “Are you sure we can’t just spend the afternoon having sex?”
Taylor gave her a stern look. “We literally had sex this morning. You’re insatiable.”
“I can’t help it if I’m insatiable when it comes to you.” She said it in a teasing tone, but she so wasn’t kidding. Taylor had flipped some sort of switch in her and it showed no signs of abating.
“I promise I’ll take good care of you later.” Taylor’s fingers encircled Julia’s wrists and squeezed.
The sensation, paired with knowing exactly how Taylor planned to take care of her, sent a jolt of desire through her. Like, next level desire. Taylor was going to tie her up. And Julia couldn’t wait. “If we started right now, think how much longer we’d have to play.”
“Julia.”
“Kidding. Mostly.” She pouted.
Taylor’s hands moved from her wrists to around her waist. “You’re adorable. Incorrigible, but adorable.”
The pout became a smirk. She never bantered with Erica like this. Ever. “Thanks.”
“Now, let’s focus on the task at hand or I’ll have half a mind to spank you.”
Julia raised a brow in challenge. “Promise?”
Taylor folded her arms. “Or maybe I should say I’ll refuse to spank you.”
Julia giggled. “Okay, okay. I’m focusing.”
“Good. All right, it looks like you have everything.” Taylor nodded and tutted her approval at the pile.
“Your directions were very explicit.”
Taylor raised a brow. “Are you complaining?”
“Not at all.” She really wasn’t. She had no idea what she was doing and Taylor’s offer of help was about a thousand times more promising than the dozen or so YouTube videos she’d watched. She could have managed on her own, but she really, really, didn’t want to.
“And you picked out a color?”
She picked up the chip she’d used to have the two gallons of paint tinted.
“Nice.”
“Thank you.” She’d agonized over the choices. Seriously, who knew there were so many shades of green? Her ultimate choice, spring sage, had blue and gray undertones rather than yellow ones. She’d already ordered herself a new quilt for the bed for when they were done and couldn’t wait to see how it all looked together.
“Now, have you ever painted a room before?”
Julia shook her head.
“Never?”
“Erica didn’t really believe in DIY. We always hired people.”
Taylor made a tsking sound. “That’s sad.”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Wait. Is this like fixing the window screen? You’re enlisting my help but secretly hoping I do all the work?”
“No.” She answered maybe a little too quickly.
“Oh, my God. You are.” Taylor looked genuinely appalled.
A hint of panic licked at her belly. She imagined Taylor walking out and leaving her with all this stuff she had no idea what to do with. “I swear I’m not.”
Taylor didn’t speak. She just continued to stare. What if she wasn’t teasing? What if she left Julia there with the brushes and rollers and tape and trays? Even worse than the prospect of tackling the project alone was Taylor thinking Julia really was trying to use her.
“I’ll own being clueless, but I’m not lazy. Or a mooch. Or—”
“I’m picking on you. I don’t think you’re any of those things.”
The relief was palpable. Maybe a little too palpable. She tried not to think about how fragile her sense of self was that she’d get so worked up over such a small thing. “Cool. Sorry if I overreacted there.”
“You’re cute when you’re freaking out.”
The comment returned Julia, and the conversation, to an even keel. “How about you boss me around now and we get this done?”
Taylor grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Taylor didn’t boss her around, exactly, but she was directive. In a really smart, efficient sort of way. Julia appreciated the willingness to take charge. She appreciated even more having the entire room taped, prepped, and primed before lunch.
“By the time we eat, it should be ready for paint,” Taylor said.
“Really? That fast?”
“Yeah, especially on a warm day like this with the fans going.”
They headed to the kitchen and Julia whipped up sandwiches. She’d made a pitcher of lemonade, just like the first time Taylor came over. She and Taylor had come a long way since then. Hell, she’d come a long way on a lot of fronts.
They ate on the back patio, the breeze making the August afternoon pleasant rather than stifling. Julia pulled out the brownies she’d baked the night before. Even more than the lemonade, the memory of the first time she’d made them for Taylor—the picnic, taking pictures in the woods, the kiss Taylor seemed to regret the moment it happened—made her smile.
She cleaned up the dishes and they went back upstairs. Like before, Taylor was clear and specific in her directions. By the time she rolled color onto the walls, Julia would be hard pressed to say she wasn’t having fun. It was so damn satisfying.
She had a moment of panic about the shade, but Taylor assured her it would darken slightly as it dried. “Good.” She blew out a breath. “Because I’m not about that sea foam life.”
The joke earned Julia a laugh and pinch to her side. She retaliated by tapping her paint roller to Taylor’s stomach, leaving a smear of green on her navy T-shirt. Her mouth fell open, realizing what she’d done. Taylor’s did, too, followed by a slow shake of her head. “Really?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I mean, I did, obviously, but I wasn’t thinking.”
Seconds ticked by and, for the life of her, Julia couldn’t figure out if Taylor was annoyed or amused or something different. It was weird to have that feeling twice in one day. She must be more out of her element than she’d admitted, even to herself. She was about to own it when Taylor’s roller hit her thigh and went all the way down to her ankle.
Taylor smirked. “Oops.”
Any concerns about Taylor’s reaction evaporated. Julia sent a streak of paint up Taylor’s arm. Julia’s breasts were next, Taylor’s ass. Julia grabbed for Taylor’s roller and Taylor grabbed for her. The next thing she knew, they were tangled up in each other, covered with paint, and laughing like a pair of kids. The drop cloth they’d been so careful to put down bunched around their feet. Julia gasped for breath. “Okay, okay. You win.”
“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.” Taylor tickled her ribs, making her shriek. She was so strong.
“You win, you win. I give up.” Taylor released her. Julia took a step away and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Holy crap.”
“Too much?” Taylor looked at her with a smirk.
“Oh, no. That was fantastic.”
“Good.” Taylor dipped her roller in the tray, rolling and tapping away the excess paint. “I like you squealing and squirming and completely at my mercy.”
She resumed painting and Julia stood for a moment, simply watching. She hadn’t thought Taylor could surprise her much at this point. Clearly, she’d been very, very wrong.