Page 380 of One More Kiss

Delaney

Dua Lipa playsin the background as women shake their hips and swirl paintbrushes against their canvases. Laughter bounces off the hard surfaces and bottle after bottle of wine are being opened and drank. It’s heaven.

It’s legit one of my happy places.

I’m not much of an artist and I certainly don’t claim to be, but I love painting, nonetheless. It’s why I started these bimonthly painting parties in the first place. I have a steady group of regulars at this point, but every session we get one or two new people, which is just awesome. Pretty soon I’m going to need a bigger room.

Typically I set up a picture we’re all attempting to recreate, but if someone wants to go rogue and create their own masterpiece, they’re welcome to. We have no rules. Other than no trash-talking or judgment. This is a safe place. A place where women can come and meet new friends and make connections and speak freely.

“Have you decided if you’re going to do the toy party?” Summer asks as she pops an olive into her mouth while repouring her now empty glass of wine. “Because if yes, I’m dragging a few of my friends who could seriously use something like that. They need a little help stepping out of their shells.”

“I’ve gotten a few more requests for something like that,” I tell her, my eyes on my canvas because I can’t tell if I just made the dolphin I’m supposed to be painting look more like a manatee or a just a lump of gray. “Maybe I’ll work something up for next month. I have to talk with a few of my vendors first and see what I can come up with.”

“Yes,” Ally chirps, doing a spin as the song comes to an end and another starts. “I could always use a new nightstand boyfriend. I think I also have a few friends who would be down if you’re needing a good-sized head count for it.”

I think about this for a moment. “All right, let’s do it. I’ll work something up this week and then send out the usual emails and flyers with a date and time. I’ll likely do a five-dollar entrance fee to cover food and wine, but purchasing is obviously up to all of you.”

“Rad.” Angela fist-pumps the air. “I’m so excited for that now. Oh, can you get other things like nipple clamps and some kink toys?”

I shrug. “Sure. I’ll talk to my vendors and get a whole bunch of things.”

“And are we opening this up to men?” Summer questions.

I scrunch my eyebrows as I purse my lips, trying to get the eye just right and failing miserably. “Um. Hadn’t thought of that, but I don’t see why not.”

“And what about tonight? Are men allowed tonight? Because there’s a hot one lingering at the door watching us and if he’s straight, he’s mine since I saw him first.”

“What?” My head shoots up, my hand along with it and I manage to brush a lovely streak of black across my cheek just as my eyes lock with Silas, who is in fact lingering by the door. His expression is the definition of amused and I wonder if it’s from the conversation of a sex toy night or the paint smear on my face. Still, I’m too stunned at seeing him here to do more than blink at him like some sort of deranged owl.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, unable to contain his smirk.

“Oh no. Not at all. Please come in.” Angela practically shoves Summer out of the way as she tries to get to him, making all the women laugh.

“Hi,” I squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Did we have plans? I most definitely don’t remember plans.

He gives Summer and Angela a polite nod as he saunters past them, drawing the undivided attention of every woman in here. His dark eyes do a sweep of me, noting my red crop top and high-waisted black skirt with obvious appreciation. He stops in front of me and it’s just now that I realize he’s not in scrubs. He’s wearing a pale-blue T-shirt that clings to every delicious muscle in his arms and chest and low-slung dark jeans. His hair is damp and brushed off his perfect face as if he just got out of the shower.

“I wanted to check out your painting party.” Reaching up, his hand cups my face, making my breath hitch. For a panic of a second, I think he’s going to kiss me in front of everyone, but instead his thumb brushes my cheek. Pulling it back, he reveals the black smudge of paint he just cleaned off me before wiping it on a piece of paper towel next to my easel.

“You came to see my painting party?”

His eyes stare into mine, unreadable. “You’ve talked about it a few times. I wanted to see you in action. And I also wanted to see you.”

Someone makes an audible sigh and it’s just now that I realize every single woman in here—all twelve of them—are watching our every move while listening to everything we say. But I can’t drag myself away from Silas or even find the will or desire to be embarrassed. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he came here tonight to see my painting party.

It’s not even like he knows he’s going to get laid because obviously, he’s not. We’re surrounded by women, and I know he has to get home to Knox.

“Is that okay?” he asks when an awkward amount of time has passed without my saying or doing anything other than blinking up at him.

I clear my throat and force a smile. “Of course. I love that you’re here.” Likely a little too much, but I’m willing my brain and heart to stop speaking to each other. The less communication between those two, the better. “Do you want me to set you up with an easel and a canvas?”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.” He checks his watch. “I can stay for a little while.”

“You can set him up next to me,” Summer calls out and I throw her a squinted look.

“Nice try. You get handsy.”

---