“Tonight, I do. Thought you might need one. Or five.” He cracks open a can and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” A cold beer is exactly what I need right now.
At least ten minutes go by, before he asks, “Do you trust me?”
That’s easy to answer. “Without a doubt.”
Slowly, he reaches over and delicately unties my robe and opens it, and then he has me pull my arms free so that he can strip off the rest of it.
“What are you—”
“Trust me,” he says again. “Lie back.”
So, I do. Barely clothed, exposed, and vulnerable. But I do trust him, so I don’t protest.
He rummages around his truck for a bit, and I hear him set down item after item, each clanging against the truck bed.
“Danny?”
“Polar-bear white.” Without warning, his fingers hover over my skin before he streaks something wet over my stomach, and I arch my back under his touch. “Look down.”
As I do, I see he dipped his fingers into his face paint, lighting up my skin under the moonlight.
“That’s part of you, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admit.
Next, he scoops a pale yellow that he runs over my collarbone. “What’s that sauce I love? The one that’s a pain in the ass to make, but you do so when I ask because you are kind, selfless, and caring?” he asks. “Hollandaise?”
“Yes,” I agree.
“The night I first saw you again? The sky was an almost-indescribable metallic indigo. You and that night were the start of something new for me.” It’s only seconds for him to blend a new shade, yet it feels like forever.
I inhale deeply as he parts my legs and rubs this shade up and down the inside of my thighs.
“Do you remember? That was the night that brought you back to me. When I didn’t even know that I needed you.”
My legs are shaking when I glance down at his artwork. “Yes.”
“Good. When you make me laugh now? I see this very specific shade of burnt umber that kills me.” Danny swipes his fingers through more new colors and traces the outline right under the top of my bathing suit, barely dipping under the fabric.
“That sexy tin roof you picked out? Onyx. But when the sun hits it at the right angle, it’s nothing but lush, ripe blackberry.” His hand moves lower with this new color, over the bottom of my bathing suit, until he’s officially driving me crazy. “You could have chosen the same traditional roof, but you were audacious. You were brave.”
“Danny—”
“I saw your kitchen plans. Bold, smart, and crazily creative. Outside of your comfort zone. So many shades of green, so many textures…” He takes his time, continuing to coat my body. “What you have planned in there? Fern, bamboo, pistachio…all so sexy. Now, tell me what you see in yourself,” he says. “What color takes over when you’re cooking?”
Given that I’m bordering on delirium and starting to pant, his question seems unfair. Still, I answer as best I can. “Scorched red. Because I’m on fire and also so scared.”
“And when you host brunches? Feed so many of us? Cook with Alex? When you’re taking care of people and connecting us all?”
“Brunches? I see metallic gold, chestnut. But Alex?” I shake my head, force myself to focus, and blurt out my reply, “Plum and wisteria. Purple shades for some reason.”
“It doesn’t matter why.” Within minutes, shades of gold, chestnut, and purples are now wet on my arms, and Danny is still close against me. He whispers into my ear, “What about when you smash tiles?”
“Mist.” My answer is immediate. “It heals me.”
“And the lake you love to float on?”
