Rush (Gods #2)(39)

"Of course."

I watch in silence as he picks it up and carefully tears the paper from  the painting. He places it on the bench next to his cleats. Then, he  slides his thick finger under the tape that's holding the bubble wrap  together and removes it.                       
       
           



       

He drops the bubble wrap where the disregarded paper sits. Then, he holds the painting up and stares at it.

I watch him and see his throat work on a swallow.

When he lifts his eyes to mine, the raw emotion almost brings me to my  knees. Tears prick my eyes again, and I bite the inside of my cheek to  stop them from falling.

"You finished it?" he says softly.

"Yes."

"It's beautiful, Ari. Really beautiful. Thank you so much for letting me have it. For bringing it here for me."

"I … I said that you could have it when … and I wasn't sure if you would still want it … but I promised, so … "

"No, I want it." He stares down at it again. "It's amazing."

"I got a job," I hear myself saying. "At a gallery. Working the floor. But she wants to showcase my work for me as well."

"Ari … that's amazing. I'm really happy for you." And he sounds like he genuinely is.

"It was because of this painting that I got the showcase," I tell him.

I know Moira really liked my other painting, but it was this one that really caught her eye, showing her what I'm capable of.

"I … I started painting again because of you. And I wanted to thank you for that."

He swallows roughly. "You don't have to thank me. It was always inside  of you, Ari. I … being with me just gave you the push to do it."

"You inspired me."

"You inspire me every single fucking day."

He puts the painting down, propping it against the bench, and walks  close to me, making me tremble. He cups his hands around my face,  tilting it back, so I'm looking up at him.

The feel of his hands on my skin is like fire … like the fire blazing in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I let my past shit blind me. I was  just so … scared you'd hurt me … like he used to, that I ignored everything I  already knew about you and jumped to the worst conclusion. I hate  myself for what happened to you. I hate that I wasn't there to protect  you from that motherfucker. But I never, not once in all that time,  didn't trust you. I let my old habits of expecting the worst take over,  and seeing the video confirmed my worst fears. And I was wrong. So  fucking wrong, and I will be forever sorry.

"But I'm human, Ari. I made a mistake. A colossal mistake. But it wasn't  because I didn't love you. It's because I love you so fucking much. I  can't breathe without you. I always knew what it was like to be needed  by my kid brother and sister, even my fucking dad, but I didn't know  what it was like to need someone, and I fucking need you, Ari … so much."

"I … " I don't know what to say. I know what my heart wants me to say.

I know he messed up and hurt me badly, but he knows this. He's apologized for this. He's hurting for his actions.

And I'm only hurting us both by not giving him a second chance.

Because I miss him so fucking much.

"One chance, Ares. You screw up again, and we're done-"

I don't get to finish that sentence because his mouth slams down on  mine, kissing me like a man starved. And I'm equally as hungry for him.

It's been too long since he kissed me.

"I won't screw up again," he breathes against my lips. "I swear."

And I believe him.

He kisses me again. Rougher this time and with more desperation. Teeth nipping at my lips.

My hands slide into his hair, tugging him even closer, and he comes willingly.

I'm on fire. My whole body burning with need for him.

Big hands slide down my back and over my ass, gripping hold of my dress. He lifts it up.

We part, so he can pull it off over my head. Then, our lips fuse back together.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says, a hand cupping my cheek, angling  my head so that he can kiss me deeper. Tongue plunging into my mouth.

I give his towel a quick pull, and it drops to the floor.

I'm quickly divested of my bra and panties.

Then, he lifts me off the floor, my ass in his big hands, my legs around  his waist, my arms looped around his shoulders. He moves us over to the  wall. My back is pressed up against the cold wall, but I can barely  feel it.

All I can feel is him.

Ares lines his cock up with my entrance, and slowly, he pushes inside.

When he's buried deep inside me, he softly kisses me. "I love you," he tells me.

"I love you, too," I whisper, my eyes staring into his. "But don't ever hurt me like that again."

He presses his forehead to mine, eyes staring straight into mine.  "Never. The only thing I plan on doing from now on is loving you."                       
       
           



       

And he does.

He loves me against that wall in the locker room until both of us are coming fiercely.





After Ares and I made up, he put me and his new painting in his truck and drove me to my dad's.

He came inside with me but left the painting in his truck, as we'd agreed that wasn't a painting my dad needed to see.

When my dad opened the door to us, Ares holding my hand tight, like he  was afraid of losing me again, my dad didn't say anything about it. Just  gave me a knowing smile that told me he had been expecting it all  along.

Then, he invited us both inside.

We ordered pizza and celebrated my new job at the gallery with sparkling orange juice.

I'm off Diet Coke nowadays.

After dinner, my dad got the playing cards out. That's what we're doing  now, sitting in the dining room, playing poker, and I'm kicking both  their asses.

I'm with my two favorite men. I have a new job and a gallery showing. Life couldn't be better than it is right now.

"Do either of you want some ice cream?" my dad asks, rising from his chair after I won the last game.

"I'm down for ice cream," Ares says.

"You just ate a whole pizza," I say.

"It was a pizza and a half," he informs me with a grin. "And your point is?"

Laughing, I shake my head at him. "Pig." Then, I ask my dad, "What do you have?"

"I'm not sure. I'll go have a look," he says, going to the kitchen, and I get up to follow him.

"I'll have whatever you're having, babe," Ares tells me.

"Makes sense. Pigs will eat anything," I tease.

He grabs me around the waist, yanking me to him. "I'll eat you if you  keep up with the cheek, and I highly doubt you want me going down on you  on your dad's dining room table."

A shiver runs through me. I cup my hand around his chin, the stubble  pricking my palm. "No. But you can do it to me on your dining table when  you take me back to your place after here."

His eyes go molten. "You can bet on it."

I plant a chaste kiss on his lips and then pull away. He smacks my ass as I go.

I walk into the kitchen, and my dad is looking in the freezer, his right  hand on the open door. I notice his hand is cut up on the knuckles.

"Hey, what happened here?" I say, walking over and taking hold of his hand.

How did I not spot this before?

Because he was holding his cards with his left hand.

And my dad is right-handed.

"Oh." He pulls his hand back, eyes moving away from me. "Nothing. Just scuffed it. Can't even remember how."

Huh?

I stare at him, wondering how the heck he forgot how he had done it. If I  had grazes like that on my hand, I'd be crying over it for days. And it  doesn't exactly look like an old wound.

"Did you clean it up?" I ask him, knowing what he's like.

"Of course I did."

"Good. Well … be careful in the future."

Taking over from my dad, I rifle through, getting to the ice cream. He has vanilla and mint chocolate chip.

"What do you fancy?" I ask him.

"Mint chocolate chip."

"Me, too." I grin at him.

I serve the ice cream into the three bowls that he's laid out for us,  and we carry them through to the dining table. I've just sat down, ready  to resume our card game, when my cell starts to ring on the table.

I glance down at the number, not recognizing it. I hesitate for a  moment, deciding whether or not to answer it, and then pick it up,  connecting the call.

"Hello?"

"Arianna."

"Yes."

"It's Officer Knight. I just wanted to call and let you know that Leo Parsons was assaulted last night."

"He was?" I say, surprised. "I'd say I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm not."

"I didn't think you would be." Her tone is so even that I can't tell  where she's going with this. "A couple of guys broke his nose and a  couple of his ribs. Bruised him up pretty bad," she adds. "There were no  witnesses, and he couldn't identify the perpetrators."