Page 67 of Splintered Hearts

He goes back to his drawing and we sit like that, in comfortable silence. Slipping my fingers out of his hair, I brace my hands on his shoulders and watch him. Jamie’s eyes grow heavy. “Will it smudge?”

“It shouldn’t. These are quick dry, meant for face painting and shit like that. He runs his hand down my stomach, and I shiver. “See.” Holding up his hand as if that touch didn’t short-circuit my brain, Jamie smiles, just a little, but it feels like a win. “All clean.”

“What are you drawing?”

“A secret.”

“Is it your ass? Please, let it be your ass.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t think I even know what my ass looks like. Can’t draw it from memory.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to take a picture for you, I’m your guy.”

“So generous, thank you.” Jamie’s quiet a moment as he grabs another color. Whatever he’s drawing is big, running along my side and bleeding onto my stomach. “Um.” Looking up, he seems nervous. “I need you to pull your pants down, just a little. I need your hip. I’m almost done.”

“Do you need me to move?”

Looking to the side of the bed, he thinks. “Lean against those pillows again. I get off his lap reluctantly, and Jamie gets up, grabs the heating pad, sets it down, and shuts it off.

“Did it help?”

“Can I keep it for today? I’ll give it back.”

“Go ahead. No rush. I use it sometimes after I work out. How are you going to do this?”

After thinking for a moment, he gets on the bed between my legs and looks at the art. “I just need your hip for like fifteen minutes. I’m nearly done.” Cheeks pinkening, he looks away. “Can you just pull them down a bit?”

“How much?”

“A couple of inches. I need your hip.”

Thumbing the band of my sweats, I can’t help but look up at him as I slide them down, and Jamie’s eyes are fixed on my fingers pulling them down past my pelvic bone. He drags his eyes over my body—to my hip, then my stomach, and down to the peak of my neatly trimmed hair peeking out of my sweats.

“That’s... good.” Sitting between my legs, with his knee on the bed, his other foot on the floor, and my thigh over his lap, Jamie draws. “Your skin is so soft.” It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it, though I’m unsure if I was meant to.

I let Jamie draw, not knowing what to say, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. Watching him like this is an experience. His face’s hard lines relax and soften, making him look younger.

A smile grows wide on his face as he finishes up. “All done.” He doesn’t let me up, though. Capping the pen, his fingers smooth over the design he drew before they go down, smoothing over my hip. My cock stirs at the touch, and Jamie’s eyes peer up at me before he leans down slowly, eyes locking with mine, and presses a quick kiss to my hip bone.

My breath hitches. “Can I see?”

Nodding, Jamie gets off the bed and holds out a hand, helping me up. I go to my full length mirror and take it all in. “Holy fuck.” A fox runs down my stomach. I can’t believe how much he’s done in such a short amount of time. Flowers surround it,wrapping around and spilling onto my hip. Orange and black mix with the stark pink and red of each flower and the leaves around them. It’s realistic and abstract at the same time, with black geometric shapes and lines around the drawing. “This is insane.”

“Can I take a picture?” he asks.

“Only if you send me a copy.”

Smiling, he leaves the room, then returns with his phone in hand and takes a picture. Thumbing the band of my sweats, I pull them down slightly, watching the way Jamie’s eyes track down with the slight peek I’m giving him. “Uh, sent.”

“You are so damn talented.” His work should be in galleries. Through the mirror I watch Jamie sway a bit, looking at his drawing. “Hey, uh.” What he needs is sleep. “Back still sore?” Jamie looks up, glaring, before the fight drains out of him and he gives me a short nod. “Lie down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby. Just lie down. I won’t bite you... unless you ask nicely.” That earns me a soft laugh as he concedes, too tired to fight. “On your stomach.” Jamie rolls onto his stomach, and it takes everything in me not to react to the scars along his back—to the giant one running down his spine.

Damn.

Plugging in the heating pad, I place it on his lower back. “It’s bad.”

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