Rush (Gods #2)(26)

Then, I do something that I haven't done in a while.

I take a seat on the stool in front of my easel. I put my glass of water down on the table, and I pick up a brush.

Clean and unused.

I brush it over the blank canvas, tracing invisible lines, thinking about Ares.

Him and me together.

Without conscious thought, I reach for my black oil paint. I squeeze some out onto my palette and sweep my brush through it.

And then I start painting.



The room is bright with the morning sun. I can hear the birds outside.  The rumble of cars traveling down the street. And I'm still painting.

I've been at it for hours, and it's starting to take shape already. It's  something new for me. It's a still, but instead of a solitary person,  it's two people. It's Ares and me, entwined, making love.

I've never done anything like this before, but I don't want to stop, for fear that I'll never start again.

I'm painting for the first time in seven months, and it feels good.

I hear movement behind me, and I stop and turn.

Ares is standing in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the frame, dressed in his boxers, hair ruffled.

He looks gorgeous.

"Morning." I bite down on a smile.

"You're painting."

"I am."

He walks the distance between us, leans down, and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

"Apparently, having sex with you was what I needed to get started again."

He grins. "My cock is pretty inspirational."

I glance down at the bulge in his boxers. "Can't disagree with that."

I shrug, and he chuckles. Then, he kneels behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.

I stare back at my work in progress.

I'm painting again, and I have the most beautiful man in the world wrapped around me.

Life is pretty freaking great at the moment.

"I'm happy for you, babe." He presses a kiss to my neck. "And not to sound arrogant … but is that me you're painting?"

"It's us … having sex." Biting my lip, I turn my eyes to his. "I guess I was inspired by last night."                       
       
           



       

His smile is wide. "Can I have it when it's finished?"

"The painting?"

He nods.

"Well, um … sure, if you really want it. But it might look like crap when it's done. It's been so long since I painted."

He gives me a look. "Babe, we both know it won't be crap. And, of  course, I want it. It's us. It represents our first time together. I  want that fucker hanging in my bedroom."

"Then, it's yours." I press a kiss to his nose. "When it's finished, of course."

"How long will it take you to finish it?"

I shrug. "Depends. Actually … what time is it?" I glance around, looking for a clock.

"Seven thirty," he tells me.

"I need to get ready for work."

"How about you don't go in today?"

His hand slides lower to cup my pussy, and he groans. I'm not wearing any panties. Teeth sink into my neck.

"I have to go in." I'm not giving my dad the satisfaction of me not  showing up, especially after our fight. "And you have training."

He slips a finger inside me, and I moan.

"I'll skip it."

He starts planting kisses up my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access.

"Your first game is in a week."

"I'm in the best shape of my life."

"If we both don't go in, it'll be obvious to my dad."

He sighs, defeated.

I turn my face to his and softly kiss his lips. "Quickie?" I whisper against his mouth, and he grins.

Then, I'm spun around to face him. He whips off my nightshirt. A second  later, his mouth is on mine, hot and hard. I meet his kiss with the same  ferocity. We're going at each other like we haven't had sex in weeks,  not hours.

I've never been as desperate for a man as I am with him. More so now that I'm fully aware of what he's capable of in bed …

Five orgasms.

I'm never going to get over that.

I push my hands into the elastic of his boxers and shove them down his  hips. His cock juts out to meet me. I wrap my hand around it, and he  groans, sinking his teeth into my bottom lip.

I wrap my legs around his waist. Then, I drag the head of his cock up and down my center.

"You ready for me, baby?"

"Always." My legs wrap around his waist.

Then, he sinks inside me.

We both moan with pleasure.

We're joined as much as two people can be. Our mouths still fused  together. His hips flush with mine, cock buried deep inside me. Our  chests pressed together.

I blink open my eyes, and his are already on mine.

"I'll get a condom in a second," he says. "I just want to feel you."

I run my hand around the nape of his neck, curling my fingers into the hair there. "It's okay. I'm on the pill … and I'm clean."

"I'm clean, too."

My lips quirk into a smile. "So then, fuck me, quarterback."

And he does.

He takes me right there, fucking me hard and fast on my painting stool, in front of the Ares and Ari work in progress.





It's the second game of the season, and I'm here, supporting my man.

I didn't go to the first game, as they were away at Dallas, playing the  Cowboys. They lost that game. And I missed him when he was away. It was  the first night we spent apart since getting together.

We either spend the night at my place or his. Mostly mine, as Missy is  still home. But she goes back to Dartmouth in a few days. I'm going to  miss her. We've become really good friends. But Ares told me that she  comes home often, so it'll be like she never left.

We're all going out for dinner tomorrow night. I'm finally going to meet  Zeus, Cam, and Lo. He's heading back to Penn State in a few days, too.

I'm kind of nervous about meeting them.

But, tonight, there are no nerves because the Giants are playing the  Detroit Lions at home, and they're kicking ass, thanks to Ares throwing  some great passes.

Missy and I are sitting in great seats. Ares gets two tickets to every  home game. Usually, Zeus uses them to watch him play, as he lives over  in Port Washington, which is only an hour's drive away. Lo and Missy use  them when they're home.

But, tonight, it's me and Missy here, supporting him.

I could have gone in the box with the wives. Not because of the fact  that Ares and I are together; that's still a secret, and that's because I  haven't found the courage to tell my dad despite the pressure from Ares  to tell him.

But my dad is the coach, and I work for the team, so I have access  anywhere. But I didn't want to sit up there. I wanted to be out here,  among the action, close to Ares.                       
       
           



       

"He's been playing great tonight," Missy says to me.

"Yeah, he has." I nod.

"It's because he's happy. Have I told you how glad I am that you and my brother are together?"

"Only about twenty times." I chuckle.

She grins. "Well, it's true. I've never seen him this happy before, and  that makes me happy. And, also, it makes me love you even more than I  already do."

She loves me. That lights me up like the sky on the Fourth of July.

"Thanks, Missy. It means a lot. And you know that I … you know … too." Expressing emotion isn't one of my strengths.

She softly smiles at me. "I know." She threads her arm through mine and  gives me a squeeze. "You mean a lot to Ares. And me. You might be a  Petrelli, but you're a Kincaid now, too."

I swallow down the golf ball in my throat and blink away the tears threatening my eyes.

"The game's nearly over," Missy says. "There's only a minute left on the clock. Do you want to head down?"

"Sure." I smile at her.

We leave our seats and walk down the steps, heading toward the belly of the stadium where the locker rooms are.

We pass security with a wave of my ID badge and walk toward the locker room to wait outside where we agreed to meet Ares.

He'll probably have to do press, so he won't be out right away, but I'm happy to hang around and wait with Missy.

There's press milling around the hall, waiting to interview the players.  My dad will be in the locker room. But he generally doesn't come out to  talk to the press, so he won't see me leaving with Ares, which is a  good thing.

But the press will see.

Yeah, but I'm with his sister, so they won't think much of it.

I've just parked my ass against the wall when Missy says, "I'm just gonna go to the restroom. Back in a few. Okay?"

"Sure." I pull my phone out of my pocket and start scrolling through Twitter, reading tweets about the game.

"You're Arianna Petrelli, right?"

I lift my eyes from my phone to see a good-looking guy-mid-twenties,  messy blond hair, a tattoo sleeve on one arm. The whole bad-boy vibe  going on.

Would have totally been my type prior to Ares.

"Depends on who's asking."

"I'm Leo Parsons. I'm a writer for Athletic and Sports News."