Chapter 4
SIENNA’S POV
I stood in my condo’s living room, paint on my hands, brushing color onto a canvas. The picture was supposed to be bright reds and blues for a client, but my brush made hard sharp lines like Daniel’s face, his strong arms, his fancy buildings. My body warmed, memories of that night hitting me—his tongue on my skin, his hands deep inside, making me feel like I wasn’t Evan’s trash.
I shook my head, trying to push it away. I was 42, too old to want a 26-year-old rich guy who touched me like he meant it. Evan’s voice laughed in my head, saying I was done, and I held the brush tight, painting fast to shut it up.
The canvas got blurry, and I saw his brown eyes, hot and staring, as he kissed my chest till I moaned loud. My legs squeezed, paint spilling on my jeans. Why couldn’t I forget him? That night was a dumb move, a quick try to feel good, but it left me wanting more, not fixed. I was a mom, divorced, not some hot girl chasing a young guy. But my body begged for his hands, his lips, and it made me mad. I grabbed more paint, slapping it on, trying to cover the heat in my skin.
My phone rang on the table, Lila’s name on the screen. I groaned, wiping my hands on a rag and picking it up. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Still thinking of that hot guy, you ran from?” Her voice teased, like she knew my face was red.
I rolled my eyes, tossing the rag down. “I’m painting, not thinking about anybody.”
“No way.” She laughed, loud and sharp. “You’re day dreaming of him, and that text you sent was a total scaredy cat move.”
My stomach hurt, remembering the text from that day. I was left with no choice than to stand him up and not lead him on.
“I’m too old for him, Lila. He’s 26, so to not get his hope up, I had to let him go hard.”
She made a noise, like she was sipping a drink. “Do you think he doesn’t know you’re old for him? Still, you don’t see him complaining. Besides, age don’t matter when he’s touching you like that.” Her voice got soft. “You felt good, right? When’s the last time you felt that?”
My heart beat fast, and I held the phone tight, paint still on my fingers. She was right, but saying it felt like giving up the mom I’d always been.
“It’s not about feeling good. It’s about not looking like I’m after his money.”
“Forget that junk.” She drank again, voice tough. “Evan made you feel less of yourself and you became a different person, but that guy? He wanted you, for you. Stop hiding.”
My throat felt stuck, and I looked at the canvas, the sharp lines looking like scratches now. My body wanted to find him, let him touch me again, but my head was caught on Evan’s mean words, people staring, my own fears.
“I don’t know how, okay? I am never gonna see him again, so I cannot keep thinking about him. I am not a hopeless romantic like you.”
“Good thing.” Her voice grinned. “You’re hotter than I am. Find him, let him kiss you again, and stop thinking.”
I laughed, but my chest still hurt. “I’m trying to work. Got a deadline, and I am not chasing guys.”
She hummed, not believing me. “Yeah, right. But when you see him, don’t run. You need someone like him to make you feel alive.”
My gut twisted, and I rubbed my leg, paint coming off. “I won’t see him, it’s over.” The lie felt heavy, and my body tingled, proving me wrong.
“Whatever.” She laughed, something clinking in her glass. “Call me when you’re moaning his name again.”
I hung up, dropping the phone on the couch. My painting stared back, all hard lines and red, like his world sneaking into mine. I picked up the brush, trying to fix it, but my hand shook thinking of his lips on my neck, his hands finding every spot, making me gasp. Evan hadn’t touched me like that in years, but Daniel saw me, wanted me, and I stood him up like a kid. My chest felt tight, stuck between wanting that feeling again and being afraid I’d look dumb.
My body ached, the heat too much, thinking about him. I dropped my brush, my jeans tight, and fell onto the couch, my hand sliding inside my pants. I closed my eyes, picturing his mouth on my tits, his fingers fucking my pussy, making me scream. My fingers rubbed my clit, fast, my breath short as I thought of his hard cock, his deep voice, the way he had made me come so hard I forgot my name. my hips moved, my pussy wet, but I had never felt this way before, so hot.
A knock hit the door, loud, making me jump. My hand stopped, my pulse wild, my body still aching. I stood, paint on my hands, my jeans, trying to breathe. Who was that? Lila didn’t just show up, and the twins were at college. I wiped my hands, paint still there, and walked to the door, my heart loud in my ears.
I pulled it open, and there he was.
Daniel stood there, his blond curls messy, eyes stuck on mine, his tight shirt showing his muscles. My breath stopped, my body hot like it knew him. He leaned on the doorframe, grinning, like he could tell I was thinking of him.
“Hey, Sienna,” he said, voice low, warm, like he was already pulling me close.