“Max texted me last night that he sold my last painting at the bar. I need to get the two I’ve been tweaking finished so they’ll dry before my shift.”
“That’s fantastic.” His grin was wide, boyish, genuine. “Come here, madame artist. Give me two minutes.”
I gave him a dubious look, but my lips curved as I walked back toward the bed. I had to smile at my inability to resist him as I sat on the edge beside him. “There. You happy now?”
“Getting there.” His brow arched, playful, as his arm slid around my waist.
I sipped my coffee, pretending not to notice his palm rubbing slow circles on my stomach. “Two minutes then I go paint.” After another sip, I nudged his roaming hand and tipped my chin toward his mug. “Better drink up.”
“Two minutes could be enough,” he said with a sheepish half-smile.
“As if,” I scoffed. “We haven’t managed a quickie yet.”
“First of all, we haven’t tried to have a quickie yet. And second, I haven’t heard you complain.”
He was right. I had no complaints. He always took his sweet time with me, and I loved every minute of it. “They say practice makesperfect, but I’m not sure a quickie is something I want to perfect with you.”
Mischief sparked in his hazel eyes. “There’s a time and place for everything. And there’s no time like the present.”
“Think you can weave another proverb or two into this thread before your time is up?” I teased, raising a brow over my coffee mug.
“It’s not about how bad you want it.” His lips curved as he guided my hand over the hard line in his boxers. “It’s about how hard you’re willing to work for it.”
I didn’t take the bait. “So I should make you work for it,” I said, drily.
“You should let me do all the work, beautiful.” He sat up, pried the mug gently from my hands, and set it aside. “Let me take care of you and start your day with a smile.”
“And by smile you mean orgasm,” I said, still feigning resistance, though my heart rate betrayed me.
“I mean toe-curling, ear-to-ear grinning because your whole body pulses with my touch.” He tugged me down to the mattress in one smooth motion.
My heart fluttered in my chest. Promise me orgasms and I was done for.
“Alright, but you don’t have to doallthe work.”
“Will you just relax and let me do my job?”
“Your job? So romantic.”
“Am I going to have to kiss you to shut you up?”
I opened my mouth for a retort, but his lips caught it, stealing the words before they formed. He freed the knot in the belt of my robe effortlessly while his lips moved over mine, commanding submission.
His tongue teased down my neck, lingering at my collarbone before drifting lower. My skin prickled where his mouth had been, heat chasing in its wake. He kissed and sucked each nipple in turn, hand cupping and stroking, until my back arched without permission.
“Relax,” he coaxed, voice low against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
His mouth traveled down my belly, erasing any thoughts about canvases or deadlines. By the time he settled between my thighs, I was already trembling. He teased me first, just barely there, and I chased his tongue before he finally gave me what I wanted.
I fisted his hair, breath coming short. “Kai…”
“Mm?” His hum vibrated against me, teasing deeper.
“Please.” My voice cracked, raw.
He answered with his tongue, deliberate and unrelenting, until the pressure coiled so tight it snapped. I came in shuddering waves, his hands anchoring my hips as he prolonged the crest, coaxing every drop of release.
“One,” he murmured smugly, kissing the inside of my thigh.
