Page 139 of Top Shelf

“Little Moth!” he shouts, stumbling backward, laughing while Ronan groans something about “children” under his breath.

Distracted, I don’t notice Silas creeping closer until a coolhand suddenly wraps around my wrist from behind, while wet paint streaks slowly across my collarbone.

I gasp sharply.

Silas’s mouth brushes my ear, and I swear I hear the whisper of a word before he moves away.

“Oh, that’s cheating,” I accuse breathlessly as I twist toward him.

His only response is dragging another streak of green paint down the center of my throat with deliberate slowness.

My breathing hitches, eyes snapping to his, which are blown wide as they take me in.

Lucian makes a strangled noise somewhere behind me.

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan mutters. I glance over just in time to catch the dark look settling across his face as his eyes track the paint smeared over my skin.

All of a sudden, the room feels warmer. Charged.

Lucian recovers first. “Well,” he says, tossing his paint roller aside. “If we’re doing this properly…”

Before I can react, he grabs my waist and hauls me against his chest.

I squeal as he rubs the paint on him over the shoulder of my shirt.

“You asshole!” I squirm in his hold until he lets me go in a fit of laughter. Noticing the paint tray at my feet, I crouch, dipping my outstretched hand in the paint before quickly rising to wipe it down the center of Lucian’s face.

“You…” he splutters, while Ronan and Silas cackle their heads off.

Swiping his top over his head, he wipes off as much of it as he can, leaving several streaks behind. His eyes flash with a predatory excitement.

“Oh, you are so dead.”

With a squeak, I race away from him as fast as I can.

“Ronan!” I squeal, ducking behind his large frame. “Protect me.”

Laughing, he turns to face me. “See, that’s where you made a mistake.” My mouth drops open as I gape at him. “You assumed I’m not interested in seeing you doused in paint.” Leaning in and dropping his voice, he tacks on, “And more importantly, seeing you strip out of your paint-covered clothes afterward.”

With a brush I didn’t realize he was holding, he swipes green paint across my thigh, betraying me.

“Traitor!”

A presence at my back as me glancing over my shoulder to find Silas standing there. There’s a heat in his gaze that has me swallowing audibly.

Reaching up, his thumb brushes across my cheek, deliberately smearing the paint there. His gaze locks onto mine as he studies his handiwork.

“Pretty,” Ronan murmurs, the others making sounds of agreement.

The word does funny things to my insides and makes my heart crash against my chest. Especially when paired with the look in each of their eyes, like they aren’t talking about the paint at all.

Fingers tickling my stomach have me twisting to look at Silas. There’s a question in his eyes.

Biting on my lower lip, I slowly nod.

With achingly slow movements, he inches my top up my body before pulling it over my head and leaving me standing in nothing but a bralette and shorts while all three men stare at me like they’ve collectively forgotten how to breathe.

“Fuck,” Lucian rasps. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”