I gasped, stumbling back with wide eyes, my mouth parted in surprise, and trying my best to act as if he’d taken me off guard by painting me instead of kissing me. Well, I mean, he had. But I wasn’t so off balance that I couldn’t start plotting my revenge. Dad had taught me a few tricks, and Jeremy wouldn’t see me coming till it was too late. “I can’t believe you just did that,” I shrieked, lurching backward until I bumped into something.
He started laughing hysterically, bending over, taking his attention off me. Jackpot. “You…should…see…your…face.”
“I can’t,” I answered, creeping closer and closing my fist around my target. His laughter washed over me like a million lights in a gloomy basement. “But I can see yours.”
He glanced up just in time for me to swipe the paintbrush I’d grabbed from the can across his entire face—and into some of his hair. He jumped back, but not quickly enough. He blinked at me, his eyes standing out comically against the light-peach paint, and his lips bright pink in contrast. I burst into laughter, pointing at him. “Oh my God. If I look anything like that, then—agh!”
I hit the floor, his arms cradling me so I didn’t get hurt. The second we settled, he caught my arms over my head, trapping my weapon, leaving me defenseless with Jeremy Holland between my thighs. As he struggled to hold both my wrists with one hand, he lifted the roller threateningly. “Oh, so you want to play dirty?”
“You started it,” I accused, arching my back, trying to throw him off. It did nothing besides let him settle in between my legs more firmly. I gasped when he rolled his hips, teasing me with his hardness. “Now who’s playing dirty?” I said.
“Baby, you have no idea how dirty I can get,” he murmured, dropping the roller and cupping my cheek. Tilting my chin up, he stared down into my eyes, his grip tightening on me. “But I’m willing to show you, if you’d like.”
“Yes,” I breathed, anticipation making my nerves tingle. “God, yes.”
The breath I’d been holding burst out at the exact moment his lips touched mine, making everything seem right in the world again. He was hesitant at first, probably giving me a chance to change my mind, but when I strained to get closer, he claimed me fully. It was as if I’d been walking a labyrinth for the last eight years, and the second he was holding me, kissing me, the maze went straight, and suddenly I knew exactly where I was going and why.
He didn’t let go of my wrists, but ran his thumb over my pulse gently as his tongue swept inside my mouth. He tasted like beer and Jeremy, a combination I missed more than I cared to admit. I slid my hand over his lower back, pressing closer to him as I curled a leg around him, locking him in place. There was no doubt. No fear. Okay, that was a lie. The way he made me feel scared the hell out of me. But even so?
It just felt right.
Skimming his hand down my sides, he deepened the kiss, stealing the last bit of coherent thought from my mind until all I could focus on was getting him naked and buried inside me. I needed Jeremy with a passion that burned me, that changed me, and there was no stopping now that we’d begun again.
I tugged at his shirt, moaning and writhing beneath him impatiently. Tearing my mouth free of his, I sucked in a breath, the room spinning around us. “I need you. Now.”
He slid his hand under my butt, nodding, pressing his forehead to mine. “You have me. You always have.” He caught my mouth again and rocked his erection against me, sending pleasure through my veins. I pushed closer, desperate for the release only he could give me, and dug my nails into my palms, tugging for him to free my wrists.
He let go immediately, like he’d just been reminded he had been holding them, and stopped kissing me. Instead of keeping his lips on mine, he brought them down my body, one torturous inch at a time. My jaw. My throat. Directly over my pulse. My collarbone. The top of my breast. The lower he went, the faster my heart raced, and it got so loud, I swore he heard it, too.
So loud, I could feel the glass of the window above shattering over us, slicing my skin with its jagged edges—wait, what?
Jeremy threw himself over my body, completely shielding me, and it was then—oh God, it was then—that I realized the pounding I’d heard wasn’t my heartbeat. It had been bullets, breaking windows, and implanting themselves in the freshly painted plaster. And those bullets were still coming, showing no sign of stopping anytime soon. Jeremy cursed, covering my body even more, pressing me down into the floor so hard that I couldn’t breathe.
We were going to die.