He could see the exact moment she looked at the room through his eyes rather than her own.
“Wow, it’s a mess in here.” Color was high on her cheeks.
He grabbed her wrist gently as she moved to begin straightening. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what you need it to be. Leave it.”
“But—”
Brett gave the hand that encircled her small wrist a light jerk, pulling her up against him. “It’s perfect,” he murmured again before kissing her.
Brett knew he shouldn’t kiss her. Not again. He was just torturing himself when he knew he couldn’t stay tonight. Shouldn’t stay tonight. Paige’s day had been traumatic and she was emotional. He didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. He could wait.
But damned if he didn’t want to keep kissing her almost as much as he wanted his next breath.
And the way she was wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down closer to her was not helping. It made him want to forget all good intentions and just lay her down right here —amongst all the colors and canvases— and add some more clothes to the haphazard piles around them.
And he would. Soon.
When Brett eased back from her, they were both out of breath. Paige touched her swollen lips, staring at him with her crystal blue eyes.
“I don’t mind this mess. You’re obviously comfortable here.”
She looked away, glancing back around the room. “It’s amazing I have any clothes left.”
If she only knew.
“The room works for you with your painting, that’s what counts.”
“Yeah, it does.” She shrugged. “And it gets good light from the windows.”
They walked back out of the studio and down the hallway. There was a closed door she didn’t mention at all before moving on to the next one. “This is my guest bedroom. Or really, I should say my sisters’ room, since they’re the only ones I have stay overnight here.”
“Okay. What’s that?” He pointed his thumb at the closed door she’d ignored. “Bathroom? Linen closet?”
Her features became shuttered. “Nothing. Just a room. Stuff.”
She immediately moved on down the hall.
Brett looked at the door. It didn’t take any particular detective skills to know that she didn’t want him to see whatever was in there. Maybe it was just more of a mess than her studio and she didn’t want to be embarrassed.
But maybe it was something different.
He wasn’t going to push, although it went against his nature not to do so. He caught up to Paige where she’d made her way down the hall. She was leaning against a door frame.
“This is my bedroom. Where the tour ends.”
Chapter Twelve
Paige didn’t want to talk about the room with the drawings she did in her sleep. Didn’t even want to open the door to it. She didn’t know who those girls that she drew were or when they would tragically die. She didn’t even know if they were real people. Maybe they were figments of her traumatized mind.
But most of all she didn’t want to try to explain it to Brett. He’d done the best he could just getting past the “I see auras and black scares me” conversation. She didn’t want to talk to him about dead girls.
She wanted to make love with him.
Paige would’ve thought she’d be afraid. Nervous. Something. But she wasn’t. Looking at Brett as he walked towards her down the hall —a deliberate lack of suspicion about the unopened door in his eye— all she could feel was the heat pooling in her.
“Paige.” Chivalry floated off the word. He stopped his forward progress.
He was concerned about her. Going to try to stop this before it even got started.
She felt a deep, feminine bravery come over her. Whatever battle with himself Brett was envisioning? He’d already lost it.
She took a step closer to him and hooked the crook of her finger into his shirt between the second and third button. She pulled him closer.
“Brett.” She mimicked his same tone, but smiled instead of frowned.
“You’ve had a pretty traumatic day today.”
“Yes, scary teenagers everywhere.”
“You hurt your elbow.”
She stretched out her other arm to show its functionality and pulled him closer with her finger. “I think I’m going to make it.”
“This,” he sighed and referenced between them and her bedroom with his hand, “Is a big deal. For me, but for you especially. I think we should take it slow. That you should make sure this is what you really want.”
She let go of his shirt. She wasn’t prone to anger, but felt it coursing through her now. Not at him, at life in general. She was tired of being fragile, of being the one everyone always worried about. She’d been that way her whole life, even before the attack.
The quiet one. The one that needed protection. The scared one.
But damn it, not tonight.
She pushed Brett back against the door frame with a little more force than either of them were expecting. She poked her finger into his chest.
“I’m not scared. And I’m not making some knee-jerk decision based on what happened today. I want you and unless I’ve misread everything and you don’t want me too, then just shut up and kiss me.”
She grabbed both sides of the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her. And although he kissed her back, it wasn’t like before in the kitchen. Didn’t have the same passion.
Something inside her died a little.
Oh God, maybe she had misread him. Maybe he’d just been friendly, not truly interested in her romantically. The bravery coursing through her veins a moment ago fled.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured pulling back from his mouth, stepping away. “I shouldn’t have done that. You don’t want this. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t bear to look at him.
Then the world seemed to spin around her as Brett propelled her through the door. Paige found herself lifted and pinned up against the wall, his hands on her hips.
His hard body met hers in all the places she’d been mentally screaming for his touch.
“Don’t want you?” There was something desperate in his lips as they raked over her throat. Paige heard herself moan, but couldn’t seem to stop it. “There are a lot of things going on in my head, but not wanting you is not even in the realm of possibility.”
His lips met hers and this time the kiss was what she had been wanting. It wasn’t a gentle, searching kiss. It was hot. Demanding.
The colors were back where their bodies touched. Paige struggled to get closer, clutching Brett’s shoulders. He pushed her harder against the wall, hitching her legs over his hips. Paige gasped into his mouth, colors blurring all around her.
They had too many clothes on, but Brett made quick work of those, stopping their kisses only to pull her sweater over her head. He released her legs to unfasten her jeans and she shimmied them down her hips as he removed the rest of his clothes and put on protection.
Immediately he was back against her body at the wall. She gasped at the cold hardness against her back, so opposite to the hot hardness against her front.
Brett looked at her more carefully. “Elbow?”
“No,” she shook her head, drawing his lips back to hers. “Cold wall.”
Brett laughed. “Should we take this to the bed?”
“No,” she cupped his face with both hands. “I want you right here. Hard and hot.”
This time when he grasped her legs and hooked them over his hips there was nothing between them.
“I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
Then Paige just held on as Brett pushed forward and the world exploded in colors around her.
Brett threw an arm over his head against the headboard and looked down at the small woman lying curled, sleeping against his side. He hadn’t had any real forethought of what their lovemaking might be like, but if he had, the words raw, hot and demanding wouldn’t have been the ones he would have used.
But that was exactly what their lovemaking had been.
And Paige had given every bit as much as she’d gotten. He grinned and his breath whistled through his teeth as he thought of it. She had categorically refused to be treated as breakable. As fragile. Good for her.
And hell, definitely good for him.
He was glad she was sleeping now. After they’d showered, together, which had led to even more lovemaking, he’d helped her slip on some extra-large t-shirt —the Oregon Ducks again— and she’d promptly fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Despite what she’d said, it had been a stressful day for her. Even good stresses like the two of them being together, were still stresses. Took a toll on the body and mind. She needed rest.
Tomorrow he needed to get back to the station and finish the work he wasn’t able to complete today because of the time he spent with Paige, even though it would be a Sunday. If there really was a serial killer on the loose then Brett wanted to prove it as soon as possible. So they could catch the bastard. But for right now a little bit of sleep.
Brett woke up to Paige sliding away from him in the bed. It was still dark outside. He looked over at the clock and saw it wasn’t quite four o’clock. He pulled her back to tuck in next to him, but a few moments later she was scooting away again.
“You okay?” he murmured. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom or something.