Page 125 of The Art of You

After the song changed, he tossed his suit jacket on the floor by his tie, then dragged his hand down the V-slit of my dress, using his palm to bend me again. The man was all hard lines and sexy masculinity as he took command of my body, taking the lead.

“There’s a bedroom upstairs, too,” he whispered in my ear, catching me in his arms after twirling me. “I figured you may have some late nights here.”

“We’re down the street from your bar. Does that mean you’ll join me on those nights?”

He stopped dancing and captured my chin with his big hand. “What do you think, sweetheart?” He laid a hot kiss on me, stealing my breath and thoughts along with it.

“Any more surprises?” I asked when the next song began, and he clasped our fingers, walking us around a corner to a private area away from the windows. I honestly wasn’t sure how he could possibly top this.

“One or two,” he said while we entered a lit-up room filled with art supplies. Likeloadedwith them. He’d gone all out. “Did you know there’s such a thing as edible body paint?” He let go of my hand and went over to a table and lifted a small red jar. “Strawberry-flavored dark chocolate.”

“Now this is getting even more deliciously interesting.”

With the lift of his chin, he motioned to a blanket already on the floor. After unscrewing the lid of the paint, he reached for a new brush. “Get naked, please.”

“Promise to lick it off?” I wet my lips before sighing, my heart never feeling so full. “Maybe it should be me with the paintbrush, though. I’m feeling rather inspired now.”

“Oh, are you?” He set aside the paint and brush, then worked the top two buttons of his pressed black dress shirt undone. “So, both of us naked, then?”

“Mmmhmm.” I unzipped the dress, and the red silk fell to a puddle at my feet, leaving me in only my strapless bra, matching satin panties, and fire-engine-red heels.

“And my job is done. A masterpiece already,” he said huskily while turning his clothes into a distant memory. “Why mess with perfection?”

Keeping my heels on, I shed the rest and stretched out on my back, waiting for him to join me on the blanket with the brush and paint, eager to see the new artist at work.

He took a knee alongside my body and spread open my thighs. The brush tickled my skin, making me laugh, as he slowly drew a line in red paint from my belly button to my breast.

“My favorite sound on the planet, a close tie to hearing you moan when I make you come,” he rasped before following the path the brush had taken to lick up the red-colored chocolate.

Talk about living art.Consider me very, very ready to explore my talent again.

We took turns with the brush after that. I wound up on top of him a few minutes later, perched right on his hard length while drawing little not-so-artistic squiggles along the ridges of his abs.

“You’ve been a good girl taking your pill, right?” he asked, holding my hips as I ground against his erection. “Not ovulating?”

“Yes to both. I’m good.” I set the brush and paint aside,leaning forward to kiss his chest, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip inside me. “Go ahead. Feel me bare.”

“My Christmas present, huh?” he asked with a hearty laugh. “It’ll be hard to top that next year. I just might want the chance to put a baby inside you then.”

“I hope you do.” I swallowed, meeting his eyes, then nodded my permission for him to connect our bodies, letting him take over.

He rolled me to my back, the red “paint” smeared all over us making us somehow a perfect mess, and I loved it.

The moment our bodies connected, he stretched me out, filling me deep. I whispered anI love you, that he caught with his tongue before returning the words.

Heaven was truly here. In an art studio with the man I loved. A Christmas miracle. Hell, I might even have to believe in Santa again.

After we made love, and he came inside me for the first time—an experience I’d never forget—he took me upstairs into the bedroom to shower and clean up. We wound up making love again there, too. The man was insatiable and could never get enough of me, and I wasdittoall the way in that regard.

He had my pajamas already on the bed, little Christmasy ones that were cute but sexy. Just sweats for him. Gray, though, so merry Christmas to me.

We swapped our towels for the clothes, then he took my hand and guided me down the spiral steps to the studio. I still couldn’t believe my work was hanging up, framed and displayed like a real exhibit.

He walked me over to the covered canvas, and my gaze raked over the unfinished one off to the right, and my stomach squeezed. Because for the first time, I truly wanted to finish it. It took this very moment for me to understand why I’d left it partially incomplete in the firstplace.

Because in my head, if I finished, Bianca would really be gone.She’dbe done.

But I was wrong. I’d left her in limbo. Me, too. Neither of us being able to move on. But it was time.

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