Page 26 of Invisible Scars
I use the time in the bathroom to come up with a plan on how to get the truth out of Effie about the clothes in her closet, then wander to the massive open space we spent days setting up for her. She’s sitting on the floor opposite an easel, smudges of paint on her Capri jeans and a loose shirt, a yellow spot on her cheek making the hickeys on her neck stand out.
“Good morning,” she greets me, adding another stroke of gray to the canvas in front of her.
“Good morning.” I try to hide a wince as I descend the two stairs to the living room area and go to stand behind Effie. “I didn’t know you paint.”
It dawns on me that all the paintings I saw in her room, in her house, are her own creation.
“There are a great number of things you don’t know about me, Jonah Peak.” Her brush glides with practiced ease and I stay silent at her back, fascinated by this side of Effie I never would have guessed existed.
That’s the second time the thought crosses my mind in twenty-four hours, surprise and disbelief at Effie being more than what I had decided she is. I realize how much complexity this beautiful debutant is hiding behind those black-rimmed glasses, how much I’ve made myself blind to all her layers.
I stand still, captivated by the flowing motion of Effie’s arm, mesmerized by the movement of her muscles as she fills the canvas. Fifteen minutes later, she throws the brush into a jar full of murky water and stands, stretching before picking it off the painting mat and heading toward the kitchen.
“Want to help me wash the brushes?” she invites with her back still turned to me.
“Sure.” I hurry to fall into step with her, listening to her explain how to rinse and clean the brushes properly. She’s as strict with her process as she is with everything else.
Effie and her rules. It makes her so easy to tease, but deep down, I’ve always known it’s one of her most attractive qualities. She’s uptight and always in control, and watching her waiver under my gaze makes me feel alive.
“I’m going to shower while the brushes soak.” She turns and gives me a pointed gaze, the kind I’ve been on the receiving end of more times than I can count and one that never fails to draw my eyes down the length of her body. “You can grab a cup of coffee before you leave.”
“You know...” I take a step toward her, smoothing my thumb over a smudge of dark pink on her cheek. “I kind of need a shower, too.”
Her eyebrow raises in contest, but she doesn’t take a step back. “One-night deal, Joe, remember?”
“No, one-timedeal until I leave your place if I recall.” Effie’s nose scrunches in thought, then she opens her mouth as if to argue but realizes I’m right. “I’m still here, Effie, and you’re going to ask me to join you in the shower. Or maybe I’ll draw you a nice relaxing bath, and you can show me all the things you do to yourself while thinking of me.”
I take a step closer, invading her personal space, fingers trailing a feather-light touch up her arm until they hook under her chin to tilt her eyes up to mine. My thumb traces the outline of her pouty bottom lip, dipping between those lush cushions of her mouth and then to the dimple in her chin as heat rushes through my veins.
“Is that so?” Effie asks with a tilt of an eyebrow, though those big blue eyes betray how much she’s turned on.
“It is one hundred percent so.” I take a step closer. “You may be the big boss in the office, but when it comes to getting you off, I call the shots. And you like it that way.” Effie’s back presses into the counter, and I lift her by her thighs, spreading them wide and stepping between them. “And I amnotleaving this house before you’ve come so many times you beg me to stop.”
As I predicted, that was enough to tip the scales in favor of arousal, and Effie pulls me to her by my shirt, attacking me with fiery kisses as her hips tip into mine.
Part of me is still wary of the idea of staying, deepening whatever this is with Effie beyond one night that can be written as a momentary lapse in judgment. But I tell myself I won’t stay another night, just a couple of more hours to soak in her softness and warmth.
Just a bit more of this, ofher.
I’m not ready to give that up.
* * *
EFFIE
Thirty-six hours. That’s how long Jonah has been in my house, and he blends in so naturally, I sometimes forget he doesn’t belong here.
The brain-melting sex probably has something to do with that.
Sure,it’s all the orgasms messing with my head. Not waking up against his warm body, which seems to fit perfectly with mine, or the way he so tenderly washes my back when we shower together, or the small moments of intimacy.
Jonah raises his gaze from one of the boxes he brought in from the garage to make room for his Jeep. A smile quirks at his lips as if he knows exactly what’s going on in my head.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say with as much aloofness as I can muster. “Why would I not be?”
“You’ve been sitting with your hand frozen halfway to the canvas for over two minutes.” Jonah tosses my high school equestrian trophy back into the cardboard box and pulls out a framed photo, brow pinching as he examines it.
