“Pay you fifty to climb a ladder.” I joke.

A giggle escapes past her lips, making her leg move a bit, and along with it, her toes, they curl just slightly, and it’s just one more reminder.

She has adorable toes.

I’m losing my mind here.

I clear my throat at least twice before moving to her big toe. “Okay, you’re going to have to sit still.”

“Thought you were a super good artist?”

I snort. “No artist can create a masterpiece with movement unless they’re finger-painting, which can be arranged if you keep bouncing your foot.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

The minute I start painting, goosebumps break out across the silky skin on her legs. I pretend not to notice the room’s gone completely silent like our past ghosts are watching, and the moment is too intense for words to fill the space between us.

I clear my throat and then need to clear it again as I move down to her second toe, then the third.

The goosebumps on her legs are more pronounced as I make my way from one foot to the other. “Do you, um, want a second layer?”

“Sure.” Her voice is so quiet, I swear it’s like she’s afraid to speak too.

I nod and don’t even look at her as I start to paint and then finally decide to just put it out there. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

I can’t look at her, plus I find focusing on her feet is soothing. Damn, maybe I do have a toe fetish—just her toes, only her pretty toes. “For that morning, for taking advantage, for being an ass and not even knowing you long enough to have a one-morning stand.”

“Cute, since it wasn’t night?”

“Naturally.”

Her foot bounces a bit. I turn and glare.

She winces, then tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know.”

I just sigh. “It, it…” Wow, good job Ambrose; you said the same word twice. “All I’m saying is it won’t happen again.”

I hate myself.

I would commit murder for it to happen again. I bite my tongue and wait for her to say something as I finish the second coat and start blowing on her feet.

“Because it’s only a short cease-fire,” she says. “Right?”

I stop and look up at her. “No, not because of the cease-fire, but because I was wrong, and it wasn’t fair, and you should feel safe without sex.”

Her smile grows, it’s so damn pretty. I go dizzy with this need to lean over and kiss her. Great, a full minute after I promise not to get carried away.

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. I’ve always been able to control myself—especially because I always had people watching me, so why am I losing my grasp on that control?

She looks down at her toes. “Pretty.”

“Um, yeah, see, told you, artist.” I hold up the bottle, make sure it’s sealed shut, and then toss it onto my bed.