Periwinkle

35| MAKE IT UP

"Fuck," I said under my breath as I checked the time.

I scrambled up from the bed with a wince, glancing back to make sure I didn't wake up Shane. Sunlight speared through the window, painting golden stripes across his face as he lay asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his lips parted, and his dark hair a disheveled mess.

Jesus, he looked cute when he didn't have a frown etched on his face.

The image was such a contrast to the man who'd been fucking me into oblivion for the past few hours that I could hardly believe it was the same person.

Speaking of which, Shane Carver really did wreck me good, just like he'd promised he would.

Looking back at the clock, I cursed again when I saw it was already ten in the morning. It was Saturday, so I didn't really have anywhere to be at this time, but there was a pit of dread blooming in my stomach because I was scared I would run into Leo. And if that happened, I didn't know what I would tell him since I still had no idea what was happening between Shane and me.

A knot of guilt tightened in my chest. I should've probably stayed to talk to Shane about where we stood now. I didn't know if we were supposed to go back to pretending like nothing had happened between us.

Like that went so well last time.

Anyway, I couldn't risk running into Leo before talking to Shane. Hopefully, Leo was still asleep. He usually slept in unless he had some sort of appointment or plan.

Here's to hoping this wasn't one of those days.

Entering the bathroom, I closed the door behind me and glanced at the mirror behind me.

Holy. Shit.

I had no idea what Shane had painted on my back. He'd never given me the chance to see, and he'd distracted me so much with his touch, his kisses, his cock, that I had completely forgotten to check. He'd got back to painting the moment we were done with our second round, and I had fallen asleep while his brush continued to move on my skin. He had clearly finished the painting sometime after I was already sleeping.

It wasn't until now, staring at the reflection of myself in the bathroom mirror, that I noticed the intricate details of the picture painted on my back. There, splashed across my back in a breathtaking display of rich browns, was a forest. It was a beautiful one, lavish and vibrant, and the colors—the lush greens and the shimmering blues, along with the hues of cinnamon and cocoa—seemed to come alive as they danced across my skin. The brushstrokes were delicate and precise, and the scene seemed so realistic that it was as if the trees were reaching out to me, as if the leaves were tickling my back.

The scene itself was mesmerizing—sunlight dappled through a canopy of leaves, a rich, earthy brown. Towering trunks of a similar deep, chocolate brown stood strong and silent, their branches reaching towards the sky in a silent plea. It was as if he had captured a moment in time, a stolen glimpse into a hidden world.

For a stolen moment, I was lost in the details. I longed to trace the delicate lines and memorize the way the colors swirled and blended. I wanted to keep looking at it, memorize all of its details, and study each and every stroke closely, but I didn't have the time to admire it. So, I got into the shower and carefully washed my back, careful not to smudge the paint. After the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, opened the door, and made my way out of the bathroom, only to run straight into the hard wall of muscle.

A startled yelp escaped my lips as my nose bumped into his bare chest, and I took a step back, rubbing my nose.

"Whoa there, careful," Shane chuckled, amusement sparkling in his green eyes. His hair, usually meticulously styled, was a tousled mess that somehow made him look even more devastatingly attractive. He sported nothing but sweatpants, his bare chest and torso on display, and a slow, suggestive smile played on his lips.