I rushed to the front door and met Ethan. He was drenched. “Oh my gosh,” I laughed, covering my mouth. “Did you get the saw in the garage before it started raining?”
He scowled. “If it weren’t for the damn saw, I wouldn’t be soaked.”
I led him back into the room and showed him how to properly stain the boards. That was a skill he hadn’t previously picked up. When he went to put the stain on, he gobbed it onto the board so thick that it dripped onto the tarp beneath our work area.
By the time we were almost finished staining the boards, Ethan was dry from the rain, but covered in the stain from head-to-toe. He had a small streak above his left eyebrow and on the right of his chin. Seeing him in a way other than perfect made my heart skip a beat. He slouched as he painted his last board with full concentration. I looked at him for minutes before he finally looked up. “What are you looking at, Lena?” he asked.
“You’re a disaster,” I told him, pointing to his face. I sat on an overturned bucket, facing him. “You have stain everywhere.”
He squinted his eyes and stood slowly, predatorily. “You do, too,” he argued, stepping slowly in my direction.
“No, I…” I realized why he was being so predatory when he wiped his stained brush across my left cheek. I jumped up with my mouth agape and stared at him in shock. “You didn’t,” I gasped.
All traces of anger dissipated when a sincere, unrelenting smile lit his face. I’d seen him smile politely, and out of kindness, but this was the smile I had known and loved. This smile was the reason I’d have done anything for him. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked, stepping away from me.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re done for,” I promised.
I grabbed my brush and without hesitation, threw it. The brush itself hit him directly in the middle of the chest, but the stain splattered his entire face. It fell to the ground and I stood defenseless. It felt like slow motion as Ethan looked at what I did and back at me. I could hardly contain my smile. He bent at the knees and dipped his entire hand in the stain before standing. “I think you’re the one who is done for.”
“Shit.” I turned and sprinted toward his kitchen island where I knew I could get away. He chased fervently, but I had enough of a head start that I stood on one side and he stood on the other scowling at me. “We can call it truce,” I proposed. He ran one way and I mimicked, keeping a fair distance away from him.
“There are no truces in war.”
I cringed as the stain dripped on his light hardwood floors. “These are stains that you won’t be able to clean up,” I said.
I was shocked when he sprung over the countertop and slid directly in front of me. Stain smudged on the granite and I tried turning to run, but I didn’t make it a step. He caged me in his arm and lifted his stained hand to my face. I panted for breath. Was I winded, or was it his closeness? Despite the strong odor of stain, his scent—the soap I loved—mixed with it and made him irresistible.
He smiled as he lowered his finger to my cheek and drug it downward. I felt the moisture of the stain sticking to my skin, but I didn’t flinch away from his touch. Heat burned between us as the finger trailed further down my cheek and jaw. He finally settled his hand on the nape of my neck. His smile slowly dropped as he noticed my longing expression. I became hyperaware of his torso pressed into mine and the arm that wound around the small of my back. His palm on my nape left tingles as his fingers wound through the roots of my hair.
My breathing grew shallow as I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him. I wanted this to happen. In fact, this was all I had wanted since I caught him in my yard. I waited for him to bend forward and pull my lips to his, but he didn’t. He dipped his head and watched every expression as it crossed my face.
I was done waiting.
I lifted myself to my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. I moved my hand to the back of his head and pulled it down so I could better reach. With that small gesture, he brought me closer and bent his neck to pull my mouth more firmly against him. I relaxed at the gesture, thrilled that he seemed to want the contact as much as I did.
The warmth of his lips oozed into me, and my core warmed at his gentle touch—at the caress of his hand on the nape of my neck. He did everything right, and as the rigid muscles of his stomach press into me, I knew I couldn’t ask for anything better. He swept his tongue across my lower lip, and I released a breathy gasp. Ethan shuttered, and I felt him hardening across my stomach. The moment was too perfect—too unbreakable.
“Honey, I’m home,” Garrett’s voice echoed from the front door. I froze in Ethan’s arms and he glared at the door.
“Could he have worse timing?” Ethan growled before moving both hands to my hips and gripping them tightly. “We’ll finish this later.” he kissed my forehead lightly and waltzed out of the room and toward Garrett’s voice.
I gaped as he exited, and I stood, knees still weak beneath me. I panted for breath and felt the heat within my core slowly evaporate as Ethan
