Page 124 of The Art of You

Isabella

Christmas Eve

“One more step.”Hudson kept hold of my waist, guiding me forward since he had me blindfolded with his tie.

We’d cut out of my parents’ Christmas party early because Hudson said he had a gift waiting for me. We’d stopped by his bar for a quick minute, then, once in his truck for the short drive, he’d removed his black tie and used it to hide my eyes.

I had to assume the gift would involve copious amounts of orgasms, and I was here for it. What I hadn’t expected was the fresh smell of paint when he’d walked me into our mystery location.

“I’m a little nervous,” I admitted, chewing on my lip.

“You should be,” he joked, then removed his hands from my body and went for the knot of the tie.

I swallowed, keeping my eyes closed as he removed my blindfold.

“Open your eyes.”

That husky command compelled me to do as he said. I slowly parted my lids and immediately sought out his hand at the sight before me. Well,surroundingus. I did a three-sixty. “Oh my God.”Is this real?“Did I . . . this is all . . .” Liquid pooled in my eyes, and I suffocated the breaths trying to escape, placing my free hand over my nose and mouth.

“All you,” he confirmed, my words still tangled up by my surprise. “Your parents kept every painting and sketch you ever did over the course of your life, until you stopped at eighteen, and they’re all here on these walls.”

I moved a step forward, and he went right with me.

Another deep gulp to chase down the lump in my throat was needed, emotion continuing to tank my ability to articulate my thoughts.

I couldn’t believe he did this. I mean, I could, because this was Hudson—the king of all men as far as I was concerned. Redefining what it meant to be truly loved at every turn.

“This is your studio now.” Still holding my hand, he walked around to face me, cupping my cheek with his other palm. “Your art collection. Or, I think it’s called an exhibit.” He smiled. “I call it, The Art of You.” His blue eyes pinned me with a slightly nervous look, like he was worried I’d reject his gift.

Not ever.It was the most thoughtful and amazing gesture.

“What do you think?” he asked when I’d still refrained from speaking.

What do I think?My knees buckled as I let my hand leave my face so I could attempt talking. “I think I love you.” I sniffled, trying not to release an ugly sob at how amazing this man was.

“I hope you love me-love me. Not just think.” His smile stretched into a handsome grin, one that met his eyes.

“Oh, it’s safe to say I love you-love you. With all my heart.” Tears hit his hand where he held my face, and he leaned in and pressed his mouth softly over mine.

The noise in my head went quiet, and when he stopped kissing me, I took the moment to peer around the gorgeous space again. Every wall was covered with my art. The unfinished drawing of my sister was on an easel, though, waiting for me. Next to it was another easel that had a black cover draped over it.

“A blank canvas you’re concealing there?” I asked him.

He closed one eye. “Not blank. I may have dabbled in drawing a little myself for this moment.”

“Really?” I was prepared to make a beeline for my next gift, but he gently took hold of my wrist.

“Not yet.” He reached into his pocket for his phone, then a moment later, music began playing from the speakers mounted in the corners of the room.

“Now you see,” I began, pulling my hands free so I could set them on his chest and lock eyes with him, “I’d think you’d play ‘Unchained Melody’ since she’s an artist inGhost, and they have that hot pottery scene together. You know, we could make a little art together here.”

He pocketed his phone and brought his arm behind my back, hauling me against him in one swift movement. “But he dies in that movie.” His brows drew tight. “I mean, I’d haunt the hell out of you like he did, but . . . I’m not going anywhere.” He surprised me with a little dip, bending me back. “You did ask me if I could dirty dance, though, and I don’t remember ever answering you.”

“Artist”—I gestured with my head toward the covered canvas—“and now dancer. Full of surprises, mister.”

“For you, I’ll be anything you want and could ever need.”He twirled me around, the skirt of my red dress fanning out, then he hoisted me up in the air and I laughed, holding open my arms like Baby fromDirty Dancingas “The Time of My Life” played.

Yeah, this was the Christmas of all Christmases. Epic and incredible.

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