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“Yes.” He released his cock and closed the space between them, the hard planes of his body pressing against her soft curves. He wrapped one hand around her hip, the other reaching up to cup her damaged cheek.
“Where do you think we should put the painting?” she asked. “I’d like to keep this one just for us. Maybe the bedroom?”
“What color are the walls in your room?” he asked.
“Not mine. I was thinking your bedroom. In California.”
“Wouldn’t be my first choice.” He stroked the curve of her hips. “I’d have a helluva time explaining that to my team when they drop by.”
“We’ll close the door,” she said.
His hand stilled. “Lucia—”
“I appreciate your willingness to move your life and job to Tennessee.” And
she hoped it spoke to his feeling for her. “But I’m sure there are children in California who would benefit from art therapy. I’m good at what I do, Cade. I can find another job.” She smiled at him. “You met me halfway. Now let me meet you.”
“I love you, Lucia.”
Those words.
From this man.
Her body wanted to melt into him as she screamed, I’ve fallen in love with you, too! But she wanted more than a declaration.
“I swear I will take care of you. I’ll be the man you want, gorgeous.” His lips brushed hers, stealing a soft kiss before pulling back. “In Tennessee or California, it doesn’t matter. I want to be with you. And I promise, this time, my actions and words will line up.”
She placed her hands on his hips and ran them around to his butt. Next time, I’ll paint his backside. He was perfect, every inch of him. And he was hers.
“Let me show you,” he said, the sound of his voice teasing and taunting the parts of her body begging her to drag him to the floor, declare her love, and ride him until they both came hard and fast.
He drew her arms down, away from him, and stepped out of reach.
“I don’t need a bed,” she said, her low tone leaving no question that she wanted him. Now. “You can bend me over my worktable or take me on the floor.”
He cocked his head and studied the long, narrow wooden table cluttered with paints and tools. “Tempting,” he murmured.
He walked over to the far wall where she’d lined up her canvases by size and shape. At the far end, she kept a couple of large pieces of fabric draped over a pole. He pulled one down and tossed it over his shoulder. On his way back to her, her grabbed two bottles of paint off the table, one purple and the other bright pink.
“Cade?”
“Patience,” he said, tossing the canvas to the floor. He set the bottles down and went to work arranging the fabric like a picnic blanket. He stood up and admired his work before retrieving the purple paint.
“It’s my turn to paint you.” He opened the first one and poured it into his palm. He set the bottle on the ground at his feet, then dipped one finger in the paint and brushed it across her breast.
Her nipple formed a tight peak, begging for more. But—
“Those aren’t body paints,” she said. “They’re not toxic. But they’re not exactly easy to get off.”
He wrapped his paint-filled palm around her breast, and then he covered her skin in a large, purple handprint. “We’ll take a long bath afterward, and I’ll clean every inch of you.”
“We might be purple for days,” she gasped as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger.
“Please. Let me show you how much I want you.” He moved close, one hand turning her breast purple, while the other drew tantalizing circles around the nipple still reeling from his touch. “On the canvas.”
She glanced at the canvas. The thought of creating art with him thrilled her. She moved to her shelves, dancing out of his reach, and retrieved two shades of blue to complement the purple and pink.
“I’m in,” she said, squirting the darker blue onto her hand. “But I get to play, too.”
