I swallowed hard, drinking in his tattoos and muscles. His dark hair and piercing eyes. “Um. No. But do you have time for that with the exhibition less than a week away?”
He glanced around, and I followed his gaze, taking in the completed pieces. There was just one remaining. “I think we deserve a little break, don’t you?”
“I thought that’s what the sex was,” I teased.
“The sex is exercise,” he said in a lofty tone.
“Ahh.” I tilted my head back. “I see.”
He dotted kisses down my neck, his lips brushing over my collarbone. “Kate,” he murmured, his scruff tickling my skin. “Go out with me. Please?”
“Yes,” I sighed, sparks shooting down my spine from his kisses.
Saturday. Saturday. What was on Saturday?
“Wait.” I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away.
“What?” He glanced up at me, his eyes hooded.
“I can’t this Saturday. I have this huge fundraising gala my parents expect me to attend.”
“Why am I just now finding out about it?” He frowned.
“I, um, I didn’t think it was the type of thing you’d be interested in,” I lied. Another lie, and I’d sworn I wouldn’t lie to Xander, at least not outright.
“Haven’t you realized by now…” He inched closer, cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. “Anything to do with you, I’m interested.”
I wanted to melt at his words, sink into his touch, but I was too stressed at the moment. The lies were piling up.
“So, should I have my tux pressed?” he teased. Or at least, I hoped he was joking.
“As much as I’d love to have you there, the event is sold out.”
It was true, but he could’ve come if I’d wanted him to. I had an extra ticket for a date. I wondered what my parents would think if I brought Xander. Would they be able to see past his age, past the tattoos, past his profession as an artist? Or would they dismiss his career like they so easily dismissed my dreams? I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.
“Ah. Okay.” He held my gaze, and it felt like he knew I was lying. “Well, it will give me a chance to work on the last piece.”
“Without me?” I gasped, holding a hand to my chest.
I was teasing, but in the past few weeks, we’d graduated from painting together to painting side by side. It was relaxing, fun, and I’d learned a lot from him and about him. He’d traveled the world extensively, and India was one of his favorite places. His favorite food had a name I was still trying to pronounce. And his brother, Theo, was his best friend. The more time I spent with him, the harder I fell.
He was captivating, enigmatic, passionate. He could also be intense and brooding, but he could be surprisingly tender too. Like when I’d cut myself trying to sharpen one of my pencils by hand. He’d taken my hand in his, cleaning the wound before carefully bandaging it.
“I think I’m ready,” he said, though I sensed hesitation on his part.
I leaned in, nestling against him. “I know you are.”
And I did. I just wondered why I couldn’t have the same courage, the same confidence in myself.
Chapter Eleven
The doorbell buzzed moments before the door opened. “Xander,” Theo called.
I stared at my reflection, straightening my bow tie yet again. “Be right down.”
I bounded down the stairs to discover Theo surveying my newest pieces. “These look really good. Some of your best work.”
“Yeah?” I asked, surprised by the compliment. Theo was always supportive, but he seemed especially enamored of my latest work.
