Page 48 of Sweetest Hate

Arsen was bringing me to a place that was special to him, and that left me questioning why he would do that. I didn't ask because I wasn't sure if it would ruin the ceasefire that seemed to be taking place between us.

Arsen slowed the car as we approached a small gap almost hidden between a tight line of trees. He pulled just far enough in to keep the car on a shallow bed of sand, yet not blocking the entrance. "Some of the locals hang out here."

"And someone showed you?"

"Sort of." He turned off the car. "I was at the public part one day and fell into a crowd that later moved to this part of the beach and invited me along."

I wondered if he'd been with a guy but honestly didn't want to know, especially when I slid out of the bucket seat and took in the view. Though I wasn't sure anything could ruin the sudden, complete tranquility that blanketed me, I wasn't willing to risk it.

"Here," Arsen said as he handed me my art portfolio bag and stuffed two beach towels under his arm. "Come on. A little way down, there's a small alcove I think is perfect."

As he set off toward the water, I followed, my flip-flops sinking further into the sand until I stopped and tugged them off, wiggling my toes in the tiny grains. Arsen did the same as he watched me, and then he...smiled. A boyish smile unlike any I'd seen before on his face transformed the moody bastard's features into an entirely different kind of sex on legs. And just when I thought he couldn't wreck my body any more than he already did with a simple look, a small dimple creased in his cheek.

"Now you're the one staring." He wiggled his brows. "Like what you see, little mouse?"

I scoffed. "You wish."

Arsen's grin only broadened. Asshole knew exactly what he was doing to me. "So, where's this perfect place of yours?"

"Just around the corner." He gestured to a cluster of rocks, formed from centuries of water battering and shaping them into smooth surfaces, that stood taller the further we traveled downhill toward the edge of the water. "Almost there," he assured me as we circled around the structure. "At high tide, this place is inaccessible, but right now is a perfect time."

When Arsen stepped aside, I sucked in a harsh breath. It wasn't the wide-open beach that drew crowds in droves. Rocks jutted out sharp and jagged in some places, and shells littered the sand. Logs lay on their sides, still damp from being covered in water at high tide. It was natural beauty. A mix of what I loved about both the lake and the ocean. "This is perfect," I agreed.

"Pick a spot and get set up," he suggested and waited as I worked my way carefully around the debris left behind by the sea. Choosing a spot on top of a massive flat rock, I waited while Arsen set out the towels, and I climbed up, sitting cross-legged and unzipped my bag. Arsen took the spot next to me, laying down.

"Guess what?" Arsen said as I dug out a small canvas board, perfect for my lap.

"What."

"This is the spot I sit in every time I come here." He winked up at me. Arsen fucking winked. He really had to stop doing things that made it harder to remember why I had hated him, even though I knew that was no longer true.

"I'd say you have good taste, but…"

"You taste good," he interrupted, and I snorted.

"Lame."

He chuckled, and even though I could tell he felt lighter here, the sound was still raspy and dark.

Arsen quieted, letting the sun soak into his skin while I pulled out my paints and set out my supplies onto the towel.

Scanning the scenery, I quickly grabbed shades of blue, yellow, white, and a few others so I could add textures and dimensions hidden inside the waves. As I painted, using both my brushes and fingers, I could feel his stare. I tried to ignore it, but there was nothing easy to dismiss about Arsen.

Pausing with my fine-tipped brush placed in the curl of a wave, I glanced down at him. "Why do you watch me like that when I paint?"

"It relaxes me." His tone and statement were so matter of fact, he either didn't care or didn't understand the impact of telling someone they could affect him to that extent.

"It relaxes you?" I tilted my head. "Why?"

"Yep. And I have absolutely no idea why." He hummed with contentment and sprawled out with his arms stretched over his head.

* * *

ARSEN

I hadn't plannedon the candid response, but it was true. Watching Kellan quietly focused and completely in his element allowed me to study him while his forehead was creased in concentration or when he bit his lip as he really dove deep into his work.

Kellan shook his head but turned back to the canvas. His fingers slid through a shade I couldn't see from my angle, but I had a perfect view of his face. And that's what I craved. I wasn't a fan of denying myself, especially when it came to Kellan.

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