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“To account for the nakedness?”
“Among other reasons, yes,” she agreed with a smile.
She intended to be as honest as possible with him tonight, and for however many tomorrows they would have. No nasty surprises. If she slept with him, he’d see that she was just as she said—capable of giving and receiving pleasure but not a woman who would rock a man’s world.
She’d be happy enough to tip it off its axis a little.
“Yeah?” He glanced around her studio but he didn’t stop caressing her shoulder. She caught herself raising it, trying to feel just that much more of his skin on hers. “This is nice. Bet it gets a lot of light.”
She followed his gaze, trying to see the room as he would. The unpainted beams crisscrossing the ceiling, the low-hanging ceiling fan decorated with dangling crystals. Sunny yellow walls and bright blue trim made the space cheerful and the thickly padded window seat encouraged dawdling.
This was her favorite room in the house. Her sanctuary. She hated the idea of losing her studio. Probably hated it more than losing her marriage, and didn’t that sink to a whole new level of low?
“Yes, especially on summer mornings. I set up my easel by that window,” she indicated the wide window seat, “or sometimes I take my sketchpad and sit on the cushions, dreaming.”
“Some dreams,” he said, his attention landing on the pictures she’d tacked to the big strips of corkboards on the walls. “I don’t know what most of those are supposed to be,” he said, making her laugh.
“I know. I just like throwing colors together and seeing what patterns I come up with.”
“So you weren’t a kid who liked to color within the lines.”
“Oh, but I did. I hated to screw up. So the first time I painted, I decided no rules would apply. I’d just do whatever gave me pleasure.”
Jeff brought his focus back front and center. He edged his fingertip down to where her arm touched the uppermost part of her breast. “According to you, pleasure’s not something you worry about a whole lot.”
Her pulse accelerated while his beautiful eyes assessed her openly. “I believe in truth in advertising,” she said in a husky voice that didn’t sound altogether like her. She liked it. “I may not rock your world, Jeff.”
“You think not?” He tugged on the strap of her smock, eliciting a gasp as the material stimulated her hypersensitive breasts. “And where’s that coming from? That fucking lout who’s probably balling my baby sister right now?”
At her wince, he blew out a breath. “Sorry. Awkward.”
“I was wincing for her, not me.” She stepped closer and lifted her hand to his hair, threading her fingers through the honey oak-colored strands. “I’m here with you.”
He resumed stroking her shoulder, this time nudging the strap down. The pad of his thumb darted ov
er her skin, as if he were playing connect the dots with her freckles. “You’re sure this is okay?”
“I’ve always had inconsistent periods. I’m on birth control.”
He let out a baffled laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I picked up condoms. Hell, I’m not used to discussing this so bloodlessly.”
“Better that way, don’t you think? Less room for misunderstandings.”
“I suppose. I meant…emotionally. You won’t cry or something after, will you?”
“Depends.” She smiled as she reached up to unbind her hair. “Don’t give me a reason to cry and we should be fine.”
“Not on the agenda.”
She looped her hairband on one corner of her easel. “Good. Never been a fan of crying.”
“How about screaming?”
“Never had anything to scream about.”
He watched her pull apart her braid, seemingly fascinated by each loosened hank of wavy, dark hair. “Open to changing that?”
Chapter Three
