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“No thank you.” I lie.
His lips curve into an even sexier smile and he takes my plate away, placing it into the sink.
“How long have you been painting?” I stand up and walk over to the unfinished canvas—trying to calm the butterflies that are currently fluttering around in my stomach.
“Years.”
“Are you being vague on purpose?”
“No.” He takes his place next to me. “I’ve been painting all my life, but I started to take it seriously once I hurt myself playing football.” He sighs. “I tore my ACL and couldn’t recover quickly enough, so I turned towards art as an outlet.”
“You played football in college?”
He nods and cups my chin in his hands. “Is this going to be a one sided relationship?”
“Who said this was a relationship?”
Instead of firing back, he presses his lips against mine. Gripping my hips, he kisses me harder and harder, refusing to let me take a breath. Just when I feel like I need to force myself to step back and breathe, he pulls away from me and stares into my eyes.
I’m panting and trying to come up with a few smart words to say, but all I can do is stare back.
Clasping my hand, he leads me into a small sunroom that looks over the condo’s lake. There’s a cream colored chaise on one side of the room and a standing blank canvas on the other.
“Still willing to let me paint you?” he whispers into my ear, sending tingles up and down my spine.
“Yes.” I ignore how fast my heart is racing.
He walks me over to the chaise and faces me, sliding a hand against my cheek. “I need it to be a nude painting.” His eyes are dark. “Are you fine with that?”
I hesitate and try to regain some of the control. “I take my clothes off at work every day. Why wouldn’t I be fine with it?”
“You never get completely naked, and you know none of those of men are going to take things too far with you.” He closes what little space is left between us and looks deep into my eyes. “That won’t be the case tonight—whether you agree to let me paint you or not...Yes or no?”
I nod even though I’m beyond nervous for some reason.
He presses a finger against my lips. “Can you agree to keep these shut while I work?”
I nod again.
He steps back and looks at me for a few seconds—letting his eyes shift over my body from head to toe. Without saying a word, he grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head.
I move my hand to the zipper on my jeans, but he grabs my wrist and holds it still.
“Let me.” He lowers his head to my neck and kisses my skin as he unfastens my pants. After they fall into a wrinkled puddle, he bites me gently.
I’m trembling for some reason I can’t explain and he’s not making it any better with the way he’s looking at me.
“I never thought you’d be the shy type.” He slides a hand behind my back and unclasps my bra.
“I’m not the shy type.” I practically stutter.
He smiles and trails his hands down to my waist, slowly unfastening the velvet bows of my favorite panties. The second they hit the floor, he draws my bottom lip into his mouth and bites it, forcing me to murmur, to tremble even more.
“It’s okay to have a soft side...” He releases my lip and kisses me until I lose all sense of consciousness, until everything around me is a blur.
The next thing I feel is him picking me up and placing me onto the chaise. He gives me some directions, something about “move your right arm like this and put your left one like that,” but I’m still in a daze so all I can do is stare at him.
Shaking his head, he repositions me—propping my right arm behind my head, placing my left arm against a pillow. He drags the elastic band away from my ponytail—letting my hair fall over my shoulders, and then he adjusts my legs so they’re crossed over one another.
“I love your lips...” He presses a finger against my mouth. “They’re the first thing I noticed when I saw you.”
He tugs on a few strands of my hair and sighs. “You’re beyond beautiful.” He kisses me one last time before walking to his canvas. “You’re fucking perfect...”
My heart is seconds away from jumping out of my chest. It’s not used to whatever the hell is going on and I’m too mesmerized to stop it.
I watch as Carter pulls a stool in front of his canvas and brings one of the paintbrushes to his mouth. With his eyes on mine, he licks the end of the brush—slowly dragging his tongue across each bristle.
“Be still, Emerald,” he says, and I wonder if I’m blushing red all over.
I’ve been naked in front of a guy before, but this moment makes me feel so much more exposed and I can’t stop shaking.
