Page 8 of Kissing the Villain

“Something for you.” She tucked her feet under her butt, twirling the brush in her hand. “Wanna help me with it?”

“Depends.” I ran the pad of my thumb along my bottom lip, and her eyes followed every movement. “What do I get?”

She licked her lips. “Do you need a reward for every good deed?”

I rolled my shoulders against the soft fabric of my mother’s favorite chair. “I don’t make a habit of performing many good deeds.”

Her smile dropped. “No, I guess you don’t.”

Sensing her irritation, I swiped the palate from the floor. “Which colors do you need?”

Her face brightened. “More red, black, and white.”

I opened the bottles and filled the palette as she grabbed three more synthetic brushes to give her brushstrokes a smooth effect. She set them on the table next to her and moved a drop cloth below her easel, organizing the brushes in a row.

Dipping a rigger brush into the black paint, she made a slow, steady line across the canvas. I watched in awe for what felt like hours. And when she finished painting, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She lifted the canvas and bent forward, her tits barely contained in a lacy bra that left nothing to my dirty imagination. Alex looked incredible in another one of my presents.

She studied my face as if trying to commit every curve to memory and said, “You’re my muse.”

Alex grabbed an angled brush and dipped it into orange paint that reminded me of a sunset. She leaned forward, oblivious to her tits spilling out from her bra, the lace doing nothing to hide her nipples. Fuck, I wanted to suck the tiny buds into my mouth until she screamed my name.

“Is that…” I sank to the floor in front of her. “Is that me?”

Smiling, she looked up at me. “Do you like it?”

“It’s brilliant,” I whispered. “How do you do that?”

My voice sounded distant, unsure of my question, even though I wanted an answer.

She peeked up at me. “Do what?”

I blew out a deep breath. “Make me feel like she’s still here with me.”

“It’s an artist’s job to make you feel something.”

I cupped the side of her face, my fingers brushing her skin. “That’s the problem with you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Are we still talking about art?”

Our eyes met, and I pushed fallen strands of hair behind her ear. A trail of heat rushed down my arms, spreading throughout my body like wildfire.

How did she make me feel so many emotions at once when no one else had gotten anywhere close to chipping the ice from my cold, dead heart?

I grabbed her curls and pulled her mouth to mine. She sucked in a few deep breaths as our eyes met. The usual hesitation was in her eyes, settling deep into her bones. She felt the same way about me as I did her. We hated how much we wanted each other.

But we could not deny that once our lips collided and our tongues tangled, we were fucking made for each other.

She was everything I wanted.

Everything I craved.

I slipped my fingers through her hair as she climbed onto my lap, wrapping her thighs around me. She had the legs of a dancer, long and lean and so fucking smooth I couldn’t stop running my fingers along her skin.

“Luca,” she moaned as I kissed her neck.

I nibbled on her hot flesh as she rocked her hips to meet mine, desperate to create friction. “Baby girl, keep grinding on my cock like this, and I won’t be responsible for what comes next.”

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