Page 99 of Frayed Bonds

An overwhelming sense of jealousy sits in my stomach and I grab Ambrose's hand as we’re leaving the room. Without even flinching, he pulls me closer, lets go of my hand, wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head.

The smile on my face is probably comical because even though I initiated the physical contact, I never expected him to carry it through to this point.

“I’d invite you in but I heard there’s a massive party happening at The Vice,” I say as we pull up at my house.

“I’d love to come in,” he says without skipping a beat. “Maybe we can order in and you can show me the commission you've been working on.”

I swallow. I haven't been working on shit. I have all the supplies and the time now, since Ambrose told me to take leave for the next week, but I still have no inspiration or desire to do it right now.

It’s easy enough to keep Ambrose distracted especially when I get him hooked on the action movies my papá and I are obsessed with and find out deep down he loves them almost more than I do, but after a few glasses of wine and an intense sex scene, I find myself rubbing my thighs together for any sense of relief as I cuddle into his side.

Half an hour of torture later, the movie draws to a close but my ever-oblivious boyfriend chooses then to focus on the stupid commission. “C’mon show me, I want to see what you've done.” He pulls me to my feet.

As I lead him up the stairs, I can feel his eyes on my ass and I’m sure if I turn around I'd find myself to be correct.

“I haven't done too much with my papá getting sick,” I say as I open the door. “But I've set up and started laying down some ideas.”

His eyes widen as he takes in the two large canvases lying on the floor on top of a large piece of plastic. The paint buckets are placed, unopened, around it with brushes scattered all around as well. My multiple pages of research litter the floor with reference images galore.

“This is…”

“A mess?”

“I was going to say a lot.” He rubs the small of my back gently as he walks further into the room. “It looks like you've done a ton of research but what exactly did the customer ask for?” Ambrose asks, his eyes meeting mine and I gesture for him to follow me to my laptop.

He leans on the back of my chair and suddenly I’m in a sauna. His body heat wraps around me and draws me in, his intoxicating scent rolling off him in waves every time he shifts behind me.

“They requested a replica of a Jackson Pollock painting, and that they want it to convey passion and to be abstract.” I can feel Ambrose's breath brush against the back of my neck and I have to clench my thighs together as my mind fills with hundreds of dirty thoughts all from his simple action.

What is going on with me?

He’s here to see the piece, I shouldn’t be over-analyzing his every move no matter how much they seem to affect me.

“I mean I don't know much about art.” His voice is right next to my ear. “But I know a thing or two about passion and it’s something you have to feel in the spur of the moment. No overthinking.” His hand is on my shoulder resting gently. “Just you and the art.” He backs away leaving me practically panting.

“So let’s start, you're gonna start painting and I’ll sit here and watch.”

“What?”

“Yeah, call me your personal passion professor. I’ll discourage all your over-thinking.”

“I have to change though, I’ll get paint all over my clothes.” I walk over to the centre of the canvas and stare at the blankness in front of me. It’s overwhelming, so much open space, all still needing to be filled.

“Take it off.” My head snaps up to him as his words register. “Changing is going to give you too much time to overthink,” his voice says calmly.

He’s sitting in the chair I was previously in. Slouching back, legs spread apart as he looks up at me with a challenging look.

“I can’t paint in my underwear,” I frown. The idea is borderline psychotic.

“Why not? You won’t get paint on your clothes, and then it'll make this a lot more fun for me,” he smirks. “Unless you'd prefer to sit with this overthinking and deal with it another time?”

“Fine, maybe I could use more help relaxing and getting submersed in the art.”

“Good girl, now come over here and let me help you take that dress off.” He gestures for me to come over with two of his fingers. As if they hold a string that controls me I walk towards him and do exactly as I’m told.

His fingertips grab the hem of my dress and he lifts it until it’s around waist level before I pull it the rest of the way, revealing the matching set of pink lace underwear underneath.

“Fuck,” he breathes as he takes in every inch of my body, his eyes slowly grazing higher and higher, eventually coming up to meet my eyes. “Sei bellissima, You are so beautiful. Now get going.” He slaps my ass and I jump at the sudden contact.

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