Page 45 of Painting Her

My face darkens as I recall her shattered expression when that the jerk Dale had been to her apartment. If I see that dick again near Katherine, I think I’ll punch him right between the eyes.

I put the sketches back down.

Stop daydreaming, I tell myself,and pick up the paintbrush.

Unfortunately the flow has been stifled. Thoughts of Katherine have left me yearning for her.

I need to see her, touch her, kiss her and do other things with her now.

My fine paintbrush adds some blue to my creation. I frown. Have I really just drawn the outline of a cloud in the likeness of Katherine’s ass?

I chuckle.

This is bad.

My passion for this woman, one that isn’t even here in my apartment today, is unbelievable. I’ve never felt like this about anything or anyone before.

Stop procrastinating, Blake, just do it.

I put the paintbrush down again and go to find my phone.

Only one thing to fix this sudden new addiction I have: I need to call her, I need to call her now and ask her to come over.

My heart rate increases and little beads of sweat form in the back of my neck in anticipation as I listen to the dial tone and wait for Katherine to answer the call.

Chapter 24

Katherine

I love the sound of my keyboard as I strike the keys. Letters form words, words form sentences and before I know it I have added another chapter to my novel.

Today I’m on fire. The words cascade onto the page.

Occasionally I glance at the dozen red roses perched on the desk to my left. The little card that came with them is now occupying a prime position on the shelf just above my workspace. Only the most precious items make it there.

The words are etched into my mind. I’m probably reading too much into them, but Robin had said I should jump off the cliff.

The alarm on my clock signals I have been writing for an hour and it’s time to take a break.

I lean back in my chair and stretch languidly, like a cat. Time for a caffeine and sugar hit. If I’m to add another two thousand words before the end of the day, I better keep writing.

As I walk into the little kitchen of my apartment, I recall the phone call with my agent a day ago. The publisher was itching for a draft. I had promised to deliver soon.

Just as I turn on my espresso machine my phone blasts out the tune of ‘You’re so hot.’

“Hello sexy,” I purr into the phone.

Laughter.

“Hey gorgeous.”

His deep melodic voice sets of a longing in every part of my body. I’m definitely floating after having jumped off that cliff.

“What’s up?” I had not heard from him all day.

“Just wondering if my angel wants to come over for dinner.”

I instantly feel a lusty desire overcome me. Maybe we could start with dessert and skip dinner as soon as I get there.

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