Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) (28 page)

He turned frantic, his intense thrusts sending me up the couch until I couldn’t move anymore. The top of my head banged against the end, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was him. His heat. His skin. His hard length pushing in and out of me.

It started. Tiny pulses shooting through me. My feet and hands clenched. My body contorted. I didn’t hold anything in. My nails dug into his back and I heard his shaky moan, felt the change in his movements. He pushed in as deep as he could go, finishing with a guttural groan.

His heavy body collapsed on mine, but he held some of his weight up with his arms. “Mmm,” he said at my ear. “Everything about you is perfect.”

Now that the passion had left us, I realized my neck was pushed at a weird angle, and my head was sore from being banged. I squirmed, trying to get more comfortable.

“
Oh, shit,” Paul said. “I’m sorry.” With a laugh he pulled himself off and helped me stand. “How’s your head?”

I grinned. “Fine,” I said, rubbing it.

He pulled me into him and gave it a sweet kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have tried to move you.”

“
No. I, uh, I kind of liked it.”

Paul chuckled and lifted me into the air. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to his room. “You’re full of surprises. Sweet, innocent, Mia, likes it rough.”

I smiled. “Just a
little
rough.”

He sat me down in his room and Ferdinand eyed me from the bed. I had a sudden urge to cover myself. Paul laughed when he saw me shield my body. “Here,” he said, throwing me one of his t-shirts and then a pair of his pants. I slid them on and patted his dog atop the head.

“
Sorry for the show, boy.”

Ferdinand huffed and tears sprang to my eyes when I realized how much I would miss him, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

TWO WEEKS WASN’T ENOUGH time. Gladys let me work the same hours as Paul, and even with that blessing, our time was reduced to packing—his home and mine. We’d be moving the same weekend.

Moving back in with mom and dad wasn’t supposed to ever be an option. Paul still insisted he could help me. I wouldn’t have needed much from him, but it didn’t matter. If I was going to succeed, I needed to do it on my own. The satisfaction would be greater that way. Paul understood, and even admired that in me.

Depending on where we were packing, we spent every remaining night together. Either squeezed onto my twin bed, or snuggled together in his. His definite departure loomed over us, and my stomach grew heavier with each day. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep from crying.

With only two days remaining, we had Paul’s home almost boxed up. I was downstairs, neatly organizing his silverware when he called me up to his room. Weary, I walked in and saw him standing at the foot of his bed, a painting in his hands. It was one of mine.

Catherine had sold it. To him apparently. The girl walked and birds danced around her. It reminded me of chaos and my chest constricted. Only two paintings had sold. One to Paul and one to his mother. Tears came to my eyes.

“
I bought this shortly after you sold it to her,” he said. “I know. I should have told you. But…”

He sighed and flipped it around so he could look at it. “You were like a dream, Mia. I’d known for a while you might be interested in me, but it felt too good to be true. I didn’t want to hope. When you let me kiss you and then let me take you out, I thought you’d date me for a little while but ultimately realize I wasn’t what you’d built me up to be. Preparing myself for that, I bought this—wanting to have something of you if you left.”

He sat the painting down at the foot of the bed. “So many times I nearly hung it on the wall. I was proud of you. I
am
proud of you. But I thought you might not like that I bought it. I see how scared you are, how insecure you can be. You don’t need to be.”

He reached for me, and I moved, fighting off the knot in my throat.

My eyes glistened as he held my face. “You’re wonderful, Mia. One day you’ll get all the things you deserve. Whether it’s an art show of your own, a museum to run, or whatever else you want to do. After I’m gone you have to promise that you’ll tell me when you start to feel down. I won’t be here to see it, but someone needs to remind you how talented you are. And that someone is me. Always.”

I burst into tears.

“
I don’t want you to leave,” I sobbed. “What am I going to do while you’re gone? I’ll be so lonely.”

Paul shushed me and cradled my head to his chest. “We’ll talk to each other every day. Don’t worry. I’ll come back as often as my job permits and you can visit me anytime you want. We’ll still see each other.”

It didn’t feel like it. It felt like he was going off to war and I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. It was silly and overdramatic.

“
Besides,” he continued, “Panama City’s not that far of a drive. I could get to you in six hours.”

I nodded, knowing he was right, but was unable to end my tears for the remainder of the evening. As I packed boxes, I sniffled and wiped my eyes, not even angry that he’d bought the painting. It made me glad. Now I knew a piece of me would be with him.

When we lay down to sleep, I wrapped my arms tightly around him, thinking if I could get close enough, pieces of him would rub off and stay behind with me.

The next day was his last as an official resident of Louisiana. I was moved first. It didn’t take us long—barely an evening. My small boxes were pathetic, neatly fitting into my parents’ house without issue. My larger furniture was moved to storage and I felt the weight of my predicament.

This wasn’t what I wanted and certainly not what I envisioned. When I chose this career, I’d pictured things so differently. Mom and Dad were gracious and pretending they were delighted I’d come home, but I knew they weren’t. They had their routines. Their ways. I was messing it all up.

Paul was driving his belongings down to Florida himself and hired a moving team to unload everything when we arrived. I was going with him, but driving behind the van in his car.

I would only get two more days. Gladys might have let me off for longer, but Yazra wasn’t working out and I knew if I asked, she’d give it to me, further putting herself in a bind. So first thing in the morning, Paul and I rose from the sleeping bags on his living room floor and took Ferdinand for one last walk around the complex.

The morning was quiet with only the distant sound of a lawnmower filling the air. “You could still change your mind,” Paul said. “My offer stands.”

Leaving with him was more appealing as time went on, but before I made that choice, I had to have a plan. Currently, I didn’t.

I smiled and laced my arm through his. “Thank you. Let me keep thinking about it.” He kissed me and we both departed, heading towards Panama City.

Paul had left the task of finding a new home to one of his new coworkers. Someone named, Garrett. Paul assured me that Garrett knew what he was doing. He restored homes as a side hobby and had looked at several for him. Paul chose his little bungalow only through pictures and the word of Garrett.

Despite Paul never seeing it in person, I was impressed with the choice. It was cute. The outside was stucco with blue shutters. His neighbors had a large tree. It’s branches bled over into Paul’s yard, providing shade. Ferdinand was itching to be out of the car, and I walked him to the backyard. He burst through the gate and ran around the fence, stopping to smell and inspect.

In the middle of the yard was a large gazebo. I’d seen it in the pictures, but smiled at the real life version. Cushions lined the posts and a fire pit sat in the middle. It looked inviting and well-loved. I walked over and propped my feet on the stone lip of the fire pit. Ferdinand saw me and ran over, jumping his big body onto mine, licking my face ecstatically.

Paul chuckled from the grass and snapped a picture. “Shoo,” he said to Ferdinand as he sat beside me. “Run. Play.” The dog jetted away and Paul joined me, pulling me into his side.

“
The movers will be here soon,” he said. “I’d rather wait until you’re gone to do any unpacking. Do you mind sleeping bags again tonight? We’ll have the mattress, but I’m not sure where the sheets are.”

“
I don’t mind,” I said, leaning into him.

We had only twenty minutes of peace before two burly men and three teenagers arrived with dollies. While Paul told them where to place the boxes, I tried to organize them as best I could. We were dirty and covered in sweat when they left.

Together, we took a slow shower and I begged for time to stand still. My heart beat played a chaotic tune, pumping faster and then slower as the night wore on. It ended with us naked under the sleeping bags, Ferdinand curled up on the floor beside us.

He missed Louisiana, too. Nothing was where it belonged here and he’d frantically moved from room to room all night. Now he lay peacefully beside us on his oversized dog bed. The gentle rhythm of his breaths lulled me and I sighed.

“
What’s wrong, Pretty?”

“
Besides the obvious?”

Paul’s chuckle was sad. “Yeah. Besides the obvious.”

“
I’m going to miss him,” I said. “I never had a dog growing up. He’s exactly what I would want my dog to be like.”

“
He
is
your dog,” he said.

I grinned. It was sweet, even if it wasn’t the truth. “How long have you had him?”

“
He was a rescue. I bought him not long before we started dating. He’s known me about as long as he has you.”

I went up to an elbow. “Really?” I’d assumed Paul bought him when he was a puppy.

“
Yeah. I’ve always thought of him as ‘our’ dog.”

I groaned. “Now I feel like I’m abandoning him.”

“
Does that mean you’ll stay? Because if it does, I would have mentioned it sooner.”

My lip pouted out in a sad smile. “No, I can’t stay.”

Paul sighed. “I start work on Monday, so it’ll be hectic for a while, but within a few weeks I should be able to come back home.”

“
I’ll be waiting for you.”

The next day we went out for breakfast. Paul took me down to the beach, but neither of our hearts were in it. The clear water’s splendor had lost its beauty under our melancholy moods.