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"The best part is that no art can truly and fully express it," I say. "As an artist, that's the goal. You chase it, and try to re-create it, and you can come very close, but it's never the exact thing in your mind's eye. I find it fascinating."
"How many layers do you have?" she smiles. "You can paint, cook, make me laugh, and you're also a philosopher."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask.
"A very good thing," she says, and she seems to be blushing all over again. "Consider me charmed."
"You know, I have a confession to make," I say, pouring her a glass of red wine.
She looks from the wine to me, and arches an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I've read your book."
"Wait," she says, surprised. "You have?"
"It's really good. You have so much talent as an artist."
"Look who's talking?" she says, her grin widening. There's a new sparkle in her eyes when she turns to face me. "I think you're one of the best painters I've ever seen."
"You're just saying that," I chuckle.
She places a hand on my arm. "It's true! I mean it. The way you capture a person's personality in their portrait is incredible."
I lean forward in my chair, moving closer to her. My heart seems to be kicking in my chest now. Here I am, sitting across a woman who is not only incredibly hot, but who is also an artist. She understands it.
"Being a creative person is hard," I say. "For the most part, the world doesn't understand it. It's frowned upon in many circles, and every painting I do is a passion project."
"Yes, exactly" she says. "But only because it has to be fuelled by passion. The most beautiful and creative art in the world isn't seen or touched — it's felt with the heart."
As soon as she says the word 'heart' I'm acutely aware that mine is already close to bursting. This woman is driving me crazy, and in the best possible way. My pulse feels as if I've just climbed a few flights of stairs.
I want to touch her. Hold her.
"I want to show you something," I say, extending my arm across the table and taking her hand in mine. "Come with me."
We both get up from the table and I lead her into my studio.
"These are my private works," I say, turning to her.
"That's incredible Blake," she says, just above a whisper, her eyes scanning each of the paintings. "And what are those?"
She points to a group of paintings at the other side of the studio. "These pieces are a little more…sensual."
"I can see that," she says. "Actually, I canfeelit."
I step toward her. I lift my hand, slowly moving it from her face to her hair. I place my hand on the nape of her neck, my fingers tangled in the soft strands of her hair.
Our gazes lock, and I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. She moans, softly and faintly, and her breaths come in hot little pants. I move my other hand down and wrap it around her waist, pulling her even closer.
She reaches up, one of her hands caressing my hair now, and the other one softly cupping my neck. She parts her lips, and her warm tongue brushes mine.
Time officially stops, and for the first time in a long time, I know I'm in trouble.
Fuck, she just gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘hot’.
Chapter 7
Katherine
