Page 45 of The Heart of a Painter (As I Am 1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Erin

Thomas’s5AM, my 7 PM

Thomas:Good morning, beautiful. Have agood evening.

Me:Good evening :) and have agood day!

Thomas’snoon, my 2 AM

Thomas:I’mhaving lunch and thinking about you. Have agood morning when you see this one.

Thomas’s5 PM, my 7 AM

Me:*Blushing* been dreaming about you too.

Thomas:Can’twait to make your dreams areality. If they were good ones.

Me:The best.

Thomas:You’re killing me. Will write after work.

Thomas’s10 PM, my noon

Thomas:How’syour day so far? Any fascinating San Diego travels or new jokes from Corey?

Me:It’sfunny that you asked…

These were basically our daily conversations after the night we sexted, the night that changed our friendship into something more, something better. Thomas worked around the clock and texted me whenever he could and though we skirted around flirting with each other, these messages were as hot as we got.

Which was enough for the time being. Each of these messages landed and then settled carefully in my chest, slowly making its path to my heart, patching it from its past ruins.

My heart in turn swelled and grew and evolved and by the time Itouched down in Boston it choked me with its size. Iwaited in line for the taxi to take me home on that chilly evening, restless, ecstatic, and needy. My body tingled with nervous energy, dying to be adored by him in real life, not just through words and images.

While Ifantasized about his touch, my soul craved him, every bit of him. Iwasn’tafraid to admit to myself that Iliked him and the true and real happiness he brought to my life.

As the city passed me by, instead of admiring the pristine white snow, all Isaw was Thomas’sface everywhere. His gaze, his lips, and those hands that painted and drew and would trail my body soon. Soon as in tomorrow.

Then the taxi parked in front of my house, and Irealized quickly that soon turned out to be right frigging now.

My breath hitched, locked in my chest as my foot hit the pavement, my eyes drawn to tall, wide, and smoldering Thomas.

He stood close enough for me to smell his cologne that Iloved, almost close enough for me to extend my hand and touch his light locks that he let loose from his man bun. It flowed from under the black beanie, wild and golden waves that cascaded down to his shoulders like aring of fire.

The sensation that passed through me as his eyes pierced me could only be described as chills, lots and lots of chills going down from the base of my neck and down my spine. His brown eyes with speckles of gold spoke while his body remained still as astatue, pulling me to him without so much as aword.

Igravitated toward him, walking on air until Ihit his hard, chiseled chest. Our sweatshirts and coats separated us when our chests grazed one another, but with the tension that had been building up over the past few weeks we might as well have been naked.

Aglimmer of appreciation appeared in the eyes of the stoic Thomas. Not amuscle in his face moved as he handed the taxi driver abill and murmured, his voice hoarse, “Keep the change.”

Nothing existed in his universe but me, and nothing and no one existed in mine except him.

Somewhere down the road the taxi left. We were the only two people on the street, the world, in space for all Icared, drawn to each other in the loudest silence I’dever heard.

Thomas raised his hand, bringing it up to my cheek without touching it. The heat radiated from him to my own skin and without even knowing Idid it, Ihummed. The sound awakened him from his trance and he dropped his arm to the side, going directly for my duffle bag. Light snow started falling around us as he carried it on his shoulder up to my home, following my lead as Iunlocked the door.

He followed as we climbed the stairs of the building to my place. Icouldn’tsee him, but my back burned, seared by his undeniable attention. My hands trembled when Ientered the key into the lock after being away for three weeks until it eventually gave in and we were inside the apartment.

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