Stuck on You (Steamy Enemies To Lovers Rom Com)

“Would this be the appropriate time to say I told you so?”

“It would be the appropriate time to tell me where I can get cleaned up and where the change of clothing is.” She eyes the canvas, which is coated first in black paint and is dripping every shade of color I have and then has some bigger, thicker blobs randomly interspersing the surface.

“Are you going to paint over that?” She squints at me, and a muscle in her forehead throbs. “I can smooth it out, so it isn’t all lumpy. I’d hate for you to waste a good canvas.”

“Yeah.” But I already know there is no way in the hottest of hells I’m going to cover it up. I’ll put it somewhere so I can look at it every single day and remember this exact moment. The exact shade of green of Ellis’ eyes—somewhere between sea and rolling hills—the tilt of her pink lips, the flush on her alabaster skin, and the paint smears on her t-shirt just over the swell of her breasts beneath.

Too far. Wayyyyy too far. Stop at the eyes, man. The lips are pushing it. And don’t go below the neck.

“Uh…” I feel very out of sorts. But I bet it’s the hunger. It has to be. Hunger can be blamed for so much. Low blood sugar is a real bitch, so I feel pretty confident about using it as a legit excuse. “Right. The bathroom. Uh, it’s down the hall. I already put the bag of clothes Leandra brought in there. The food is here too, but I’ll keep it boxed up until you get to the kitchen, so it stays warm.”

A vein throbs in Ellis’ forehead, though I’m not sure why because I’m being nice. I guess maybe it makes her surly. Or it could just be the hunger getting to her too. We haven’t eaten all day, and it’s getting late. Plus, the curse is a lot to deal with. It’s enough for anyone to work up a massive appetite.

I let Ellis brush past me. She heads straight to the bathroom, darts in, and shuts the door. I wait with every single muscle tensed up until the shower starts. Wishing I was in there is just wrong, and wishing I was kissing away water droplets and washing paint out of her hair is even worse. Instead of thinking taboo thoughts like a creep, I force myself to get to work cleaning up the studio. It’s a real mess, and it’ll take hours to straighten up, but I put away what I can and bring down the few brushes Ellis used before getting them cleaned in the mudroom off the kitchen. I have a big industrial sink in there where I usually do all my cleanup. The paint is acrylic, so it washes out of everything quite easily. I’m not sure about Ellis’ t-shirt and jeans, though, so I might have to reimburse her for those.

I’m down by the kitchen, cleaning up brushes and inhaling the heavenly scent of freshly cooked vegetables and stir-fry spices wafting into the mudroom when I hear a shriek come from upstairs. I drop the brushes and hoof it up there so fast that I nearly trip twice on the stairs. I stop short of the bathroom door when I see Ellis appear.

“What is it?” I gape at her, my heart pounding.

“This!” She smooths her hand over a tightly fitted black dress. It’s a little black dress, to be more specific, and it fits her jaw-droppingly well. My mouth dries up, and other things stand at attention, saluting Leandra’s choice.

The dress looks totally different on Ellis than her jeans and t-shirt did. It outlines her full breasts, pushing them up without the neckline being too low, and it hugs Ellis’ tiny waist and curvy hips. Also, the dress is quite short on her but definitely enough to cover her bottom, which is too bad. I mean, which is tasteful. Ellis is likely somewhere around five-seven, but in that dress, her legs seem to go on forever. She has beautiful legs. Insanely gorgeous legs. Legs a man could get lost in. Between. Legs that would be the perfect complement when wrapped around my hips… Now I think I need to dick-punch and facepalm myself because I am going off on tangents I have no right to be thinking about.

Although…that dress. That dress makes me want to think about and explore every single tangent, ever.

Ellis’ hair is still dripping wet, and the droplets slide over her arms and shoulders, soaking the top of the dress. One lands right below her neck and trickles down into the land of forbidden fruits. Forbidden fruits? I’m losing my mind.

Or my grip on reality and my sanity. Because I want to haul her up against me and kiss her breathless. I want to rip that dress off and see if she got every little bit of paint scrubbed away. I think there was something I needed to tell her, unrelated to any of that, but now my mind is totally blank.