My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 47

Evelyn

Jacob Adriano was strange—enigmatic and weird, to be precise. Why did I suddenly arrive at this conclusion? Well, the reason isn't akin to a lengthy explanation or a solution as explosive as an atom bomb. It was rather simple. Extremely simple, actually. It all boiled down to him placing the blame squarely on me for our failure to complete the painting the previous night. Yes, this Italian man truly believed that it was my fault. Ironic, right?

"I still can't believe you're unwilling to change your statement," I remarked incredulously. His unwavering determination grated on my nerves. I had a conflicting urge to either punch him in the face or kiss him.

Ugh! I despised the fact that he was so fucking handsome!

"Why should I change my words? The blame lies with you. You're the reason we wasted the entire night. It's entirely your fault," he casually strolled over to the painting supplies, handing me a set of brushes. "Come on, we need to paint."

My jaw nearly hit the floor. The audacity!

"Hey, you're the one who couldn't keep his dick to yourself," I snapped, shooting him a piercing glare. "Don't try to pin it on me!"

I saw a smirk forming on his lips, and I couldn't believe he found it amusing. What a jerk!

"That was your doing. You shouldn't have looked so irresistibly sexy and seductive," he declared, his tone unwavering. "I was an innocent man before you came along, Evelyn. You've corrupted me."

This time, my jaw actually dropped to the floor.

He couldn't be serious right now!

"What? An innocent man?" I dropped the brushes and strode to his side, resting my hands on my hips, "What did you just say?!"

"You heard me right. I was a very religious man before you," he declared, looking smug. "But you, being the devil, diverted my path, and now..."

"You fucking liar!" I yanked at his ear, and he groaned in pain, "Religious? That term doesn't even come close to describing you."

"Ouch, Evelyn, that hurts," he protested, attempting to pull away from my grasp, but I held on even tighter.

"As it should. First, you blame me for us losing the night and not finishing the painting, and now you declare yourself a saint and me the devil? You need a lesson."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry," he conceded, hurriedly, sounding almost like a scolded child, "Now, let go of my ear."

A smile threatened to surface on my face, but I suppressed it, "First, I want a proper apology."

"What? No."

"Excuse me?!" I twisted his ear, and he groaned in pain again.

"Fuck, fine! I'm sorry."

"That's more like it, good boy," I said, flashing him a grin and releasing his ear.

"That was..." he searched for the right word while he rubbed his red ear, "barbaric."

"Oh, really? Thank you," I picked up the brushes and moved closer to the canvas, which was now placed before my vanity. Well, we had moved to my room after successfully wasting the entire night. The blame lay with Jacob, but despite my attempts to steer the conversation toward painting, he seemed more interested in sex.

The result? A successfully wasted the night and an unfinished portrait.

"Look at you, not a hint of remorse," he said, his disbelief now apparent.

A chuckle slipped past my lips as I observed him. "Come here, you big baby. Let me make up for my mistake."

"How?" He seemed suspicious.

"I'll show you, but first, you need to come here."

Without further argument, he walked closer to me, a persistent frown still etched between his brows. Gosh, he could be really cute sometimes.

I couldn't suppress my smile any longer, and he seemed to notice it, giving me a suspicious look. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied, closing the last bit of distance between us. I slipped my arms around his neck and tiptoed to reach his level as I leaned closer to his face. "Tell me, what can I do to make up for my... what did you call it? Oh yeah," I concluded with a soft chuckle, "barbaric act. What do I need to do to make it up to you?"

His frown disappeared as his arms encircled me, pulling me closer. Our chests pressed together, and the warmth of his skin effortlessly transferred to mine through the fragile fabric of his shirt—I was already developing a fondness for his clothes.

"Well..." he began, a smile spreading across his lips, his voice deepening, "It's up to you, isn't it? What do you think will make me forget it?"

Suppressing my smile, I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth before speaking, "Will this be enough?"

He tsked and shook his head, "Too little."

Slowly, I moved to the other corner of his mouth and placed a lingering kiss there. "Now?"

"Still not enough."

This time, I kissed the bridge of his nose. "Still not enough?"

"Yes, not enough," he sighed, shaking his head with mock disappointment.

At this point, I had to hold back a giggle. This man was certainly something else.

"How about this?" I moved in and planted a tender kiss on his forehead.

I felt his body relax at this point, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"Enough?"

"Almost," he replied, his gaze soft.

"Almost?" I asked softly, before finally leaning closer to his lips, "I think I know how to make it 'enough'," I whispered against them.

"What are you waiting for then?" he asked, his voice husky.