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Right. And the thought of standing naked in front of him had nothing to do with her nipples tightening.
The door swung open. Brett stood there in worn jeans and a long, untucked black T-shirt that fit like it was molded to his rather impressive chest. She resisted the urge to see how well his jeans molded to his crotch. “Hi.”
“Hey. Come on in. Just getting things set up.”
She followed him in and shut the door, reminding herself to breathe.
Though she’d been to his house before, it had been awhile. His place was messy. Definitely lacked a woman’s touch. Clothes were strewn haphazardly over the two sofas in the expansive living room. Magazines were piled high on the end tables, and the kitchen table was filled with mail and newspapers.
“Sorry it’s such a mess,” he said, leading her down the hall. “I never think about picking up and it’s just me here anyway.”
She felt the pain in his statement but didn’t comment, knowing Brett didn’t like to talk about Amanda.
The last time she’d been here was for Amanda’s birthday party, about six months before she died. Kait had always loved this house with its polished wood floors and tall, white columns rising up to the vaulted ceiling in the living room.
His studio was the same way. The floors shined in here as if they’d been recently cleaned, and not a speck of dust littered the wet bar tucked against one wall. Tall white columns rose from the floor, reaching toward the cathedral ceiling like rays of warm sunlight. The only furnishings were one of those antique fainting couches in a dusty rose color, some sheer cloths draped over the back, and an easel propped up next to a roughly hewn wooden table filled with paints and brushes.
“Would you like something to drink?” He stepped to the bar and leaned across it, reaching around on the other side for a couple bottled waters. “I’m, uh, fresh out of wine or beer right now, but I can offer you soft drinks, coffee or water.”
“Water’s fine,” she said, accepting the bottle and twisting off the top. She took a long swallow to lubricate her parched throat.
This was the moment she’d waited for. She’d been dying to get naked in front of him for the past ten years. Or maybe get him naked. Or both of them naked. Either way, this was a beginning and further than she’d ever gotten with him before.
“Ready to get started?”
She nodded and clung tight to the plastic bottle of water, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see her hands shaking. Whether from nerves or excitement she didn’t know.
He led her to the back of the room where a door stood partially open. He palmed the center of the door and pushed, then motioned her closer.
“This is the changing room and bathroom. There’s a robe on a hook on the back of the door. Undress and slip that on, then come out whenever you’re ready.”
She nodded and stepped in, watching him walk away before she shut the door.
He wasn’t nervous at all. Then again, he probably wasn’t taking this personally like she was. Being an artist meant he sometimes painted nudes. Her standing there buck ass naked in front of him would be no different than him looking at a bowl filled with apples.
No, the only person who thought this was a big deal was her. She turned toward the mirror between the two vanities and began to undress, carefully folding her jeans and sweater and placing them on the counter. When she slipped off her panties, she tucked them into her purse. Something about leaving them on the counter with the rest of her clothes was so…intimate.
Right. I’m sure he’s going to run right in and head straight for your panties.
Ugh. Sometimes she amazed herself with her own moronic thoughts.
She grabbed the robe. Mid-length, it was a light cream silk with an attached belt. She slipped it on, shivering as the sleek material smoothed across her skin.
How many other women had worn this robe? Any? Was it Amanda’s? When she felt the little scrape against her wrist she realized it was the store tag. She carefully removed it and smiled, realizing he must have just bought it.
For her? Knowing she was coming tonight? Did he think about how she would look in it, knowing she’d be naked underneath it? Soft and sensual, the material stroked her naked body like a lover’s caress. She closed her eyes and wished for another kind of caress.
Her reflection in the mirror captured her attention. Her face was flushed, her nipples hard and straining against the clingy silk. The opening of the robe offered a tantalizing view of her thighs, partially gaping open as she turned from side to side, providing a quick glimpse of her bare pussy.
She pulled the clip from her hair and let the long raven locks fall freely over her shoulders and over her breasts. Her eyes glowed a mixture of green and gold. The woman in the mirror looked like a delectable siren. Definitely not like her at all.
Though the robe didn’t hide much, she was comforted at having something to wear when she walked out rather than parading out the door stark naked.
“You asked for this,” she whispered to the siren in the mirror. “Now go for it.”
Brett heard the dressing room door open but didn’t peer around the canvas to look. He was occupied with gathering and organizing the supplies he’d need to begin the sketches.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t looked. Since she stepped through his front door bringing the sweet scented breeze of spring with her, his senses had launched into libido overdrive. Even dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, her hair wound up and around a little clip, she mesmerized him.
She might have walked through the door dressed, but his mind saw her naked. So did his dick, which was already clamoring for attention in a very uncomfortable way.
If it were up to him, she’d remain clothed. In fact, he planned to paint her with her robe on. His imagination already pictured her body well enough. The robe would at least cover the parts of her he was tempted to touch, lick and kiss.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, clearing her throat. “Where do you want me?”
Naked and underneath me. He rolled his eyes toward the heavens and mentally pleaded for strength, then stepped around the canvas and groaned. Fucking hell. The overhead spotlight shined straight down on her, making her look like an ethereal specter come to haunt him.
Not too far from the truth. Her midnight black hair spilled in soft waves, teasing him by resting on her breasts. The robe clung to every one of her lush curves, making him itch to rest his hands on her hips and pull her against his rapidly hardening shaft. He swore
he could hear her heart beating, pounding out a staccato rhythm that was way faster than it should be. Then again, it was probably his heart, not hers, jackhammering against his rib cage as he fought the adrenaline rush of arousal.
She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth and tilted her head, exposing a glimpse of the column of her throat.
God, he could paint only her neck and it would satisfy him forever. Slender, the pulse thumping rapidly against her golden skin, he longed to run his tongue over that throbbing vein and lick until her nipples peaked under his questing hands.
Goddamn this was going to be hard.
Correction. It was already hard. Painfully hard. He wasn’t sure he had enough restraint to see this through.
“Do you want me to take this off?” she asked, reaching for the satin belt of the robe.
Only if her intent was to kill him.
Death by hard-on. What a way to go. “Leave it on. We’ll start with positioning, then some sample sketches to see which placement I like best. No reason for you to be naked for simple choreography.”
Or for any other reason. A man could only take so much torture before he broke. Didn’t she understand he was trying to keep his distance for her own benefit?
She moved toward him, sliding her hands into the pockets of the robe. The action moved her hair out of the way of her chest, revealing the outline of erect nipples pressing against the silk.
He bit back a groan and decided the best thing to focus on was her face.
Though the look of pure heated desire she gave him didn’t help. He was so screwed. What demon possessed him to agree to this?
Think like an artist. Kaitlyn is a subject and that’s all. She wasn’t the woman ingrained so deeply into his blood that he thought he’d die if he didn’t get to fuck her.
“Tell me how see yourself positioned,” he said, needing the distraction of art.
She looked to the chaise and tilted her head again, pursing her lips as she studied it. “Reclining, I think.”
“Okay. Sit down and I’ll work up a few different positions.”
