Page 11 of The Passionate Orc
"Oh, it's on now!" I grabbed a jar of blue paint and flung a handful at him.
Nar ducked, laughing as he reached for the yellow. "You started this war, tiny human!"
"And I'll finish it, big guy!"
Paint flew everywhere. Blue smeared across Nar's forehead, yellow streaked my arms, green splashed across the floor. We were laughing so hard I could barely breathe, ducking behind easels and furniture like children playing tag.
"Surrender!" Nar called, advancing with a brush dripping with orange.
"Never!" I grabbed a spray bottle of water and squirted it at him, diluting the paint on his face into rivulets that ran down his neck.
He lunged for me, but his foot slid in a puddle of paint. His arms windmilled comically as he lost balance. I reached out to steady him, but his momentum was too great. We both went down, me shrieking as he toppled forward.
I felt something flat beneath us as we fell, the second canvas we'd prepared as backup had fallen to the floor earlier. Now we landed on it with a heavy thud, Nar's massive body partially covering mine.
"Oof!" All the air rushed from my lungs. "You're crushing me!"
"Sorry," he mumbled, pushing up slightly, his face inches from mine.
Time seemed to stop. Paint dripped from his tusks onto my cheek. His brown eyes, flecked with gold, stared into mine with an intensity that made my heart pound against my ribs. His weight pressed me into the canvas, and I was suddenly aware of every hard plane of his body against my softer curves.
"Emryn," he whispered, his voice rough.
I couldn't speak. My hands, splayed against his chest, felt the rapid beat of his heart matching my own. His skin was hot to the touch, and I could feel the rise and fall of each breath he took. The scent of him, a mix of earthy musk and acrylic paint, filled my nostrils. Without thinking, I lifted my head and pressed my lips to his.
The kiss was electric. His mouth was warm, his tusks pressing gently against my cheeks. The contrast of their hardness against my soft skin sent a thrill through my body. He made a sound low in his throat, half growl, half moan, that sent shivers down my spine. It reverberated through me, igniting a fire in my core. His paint-covered hands cupped my face,thumbs stroking my jawline with a tenderness that belied his strength.
We rolled slightly, smearing more paint across the canvas beneath us. The colors blended together, creating a chaotic masterpiece that mirrored the passion between us. I didn't care. All I could focus on was the taste of him, the weight of him, the heat building between us as our painted bodies pressed together. Every nerve ending felt alive, every touch amplified.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer. I needed to feel more of him, to be consumed by the desire that coursed through my veins. His hands roamed my body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Each caress, each brush of his fingers against my skin, stoked the flames higher.
A soft moan escaped my lips as his mouth trailed down my neck, his tusks grazing the sensitive skin. My back arched, pressing my chest against his. I could feel the rumble of his growl vibrating through me, and it only fueled my hunger. The world faded away, leaving only the two of us lost in a moment of pure passion.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside my studio.
"Emryn? You in there? I wanted to ask about the gallery opening next week."
Bette. Crap.
We jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Nar pulled me to my feet as I frantically wiped at the paint on my face, probably making it worse.
"Quick, the canvas," I hissed, pointing to our accidental creation on the floor.
Nar grabbed it, and we had just propped it on the easel when Bette walked in. Her eyes widened at the sight of us, covered head-to-toe in paint splatter.
"What happened in here? Did a paint factory explode?" She pushed her glasses up her nose, looking around at the colorful chaos.
"Just... getting creative," I said, trying to sound casual while my heart still raced from the kiss.
Bette's gaze landed on the canvas we'd just set up—the one we'd been rolling around on. It was a chaotic swirl of colors, with distinct impressions where our bodies had pressed against it. Handprints, smudges, and swirls created an unexpectedly dynamic composition.
"Oh my god," she said, stepping closer. "Is this your competition piece? It's fantastic!"
I glanced at Nar, who looked as surprised as I felt.
"It's so visceral," Bette continued, leaning in. "The passion is palpable. The way the colors interact but don't quite blend—it's like a visual representation of relationship dynamics."
I cleared my throat. "Um, yeah. That's... exactly what we were going for."
