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Chapter 23: Katrina
It’sbeenfiveweekssince Demetri gave me my gallery. My anxiety is nowhere close to where it once was. Painting is my outlet, and I’m loving my daily routine. I get to play with the girls in the morning, come here in the afternoon, and then be part of a family each night. My love for the girls has grown each day. Charlotte may not be mine in blood, but I love her like she is.
Demetri makes it home every night to eat dinner with us. We spend time as a family before I begin the bedtime routine and Demetri goes to his office for a few more hours of work.
For the first time in my life, my gallery isn’t held to certain expectations of the mafia lifestyle. It is 100 percent mine. Demetri expects nothing from it.
It’s only a matter of time before he demands a cut, my jaded inner voice taunts from past experience.
No, he’s not like that. He’s a man of his word.
“Hello, wife.” My stomach flutters at hearing his deep voice enter my gallery. The way the word wife rolls off his tongue has me squeezing my thighs together.
“Hi, my sexy husband,” I reply, standing up from behind the counter.
This morning at my doctor’s appointment, the doctor cleared me for sex when I asked if it was okay. I want to finally show Demetri just how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness.
“Lock the door,” I tell him while nodding toward the entrance. He smirks and turns the Open sign to Closed.
Swaying my hips in my tight black skirt, I walk toward my new painting room. I have a canvas set up and a chair in the middle of the room. I work on setting up my paints on a small table beside me as Demetri follows me inside.
“Take off your clothes.” One of his brows rises at my request. “Don’t be shy,” I tease, and he undoes the button of his collar.
“What if I want to paint you?” he questions, looking me up and down.
I scrunch up my nose. No one needs to have a naked painting of me this soon after having a baby. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned, showing the hair on his chest and the strong muscles of his pecs. It’s all glorious. My hands want to run down him.
“Don’t give me that face. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He goes to my stack of canvases and takes one, then one of my paintbrushes. I had four different ones lined up for me.
He dips his brush into my paint and completes a long stroke across the white.
“You’re doing it wrong,” I taunt, and he lifts his brush and swipes it across my cheek while giving me a lopsided smirk as if to ask,What are you going to do about it?
In response, I swipe my brush diagonally down his chest.
“I’m sorry for stealing your painting when I robbed you,” he confesses, his apology distracting me, and he paints down my cleavage and onto my shirt. “I couldn’t help myself. It pulled me in, and I couldn’t leave it.”
“You’re sorry for stealing my painting but not for putting the gun to my head?”
He chuckles. “Nope. It all brought us together. I like your fire.” He leaves a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You’re very talented.” His hands lift my shirt, and I allow him to pull it over my head. It leaves me in only my bra and skirt.
He brushes me again, and my body shivers as I step closer to him. He’s looking down at me with lust, and I can feel his erection pressing against me.
“Please? I’ve never painted a naked man before.”
“One less person on my list to kill. That’s a good thing.” He steps back and undoes his pants. When he shoves them down with his boxers, his cock springs up and touches his lower stomach.
“Sit.” My head tilts toward the chair where I want him.
“I’m going to stand here and watch the magic happen.” He steps back up to me, his brush circling each breast over my bra.
“Hands to yourself while I’m working.” I survey the light and how he’s standing before I begin. It doesn’t take long until I’m in my trance, where everything disappears except for the way my hands use the paintbrush.
I’ve never had anyone watch me paint. I’m self-taught. The idea of anyone but Demetri watching me seems too personal, but by the time I’m close to being done, every stress I was holding inside has disappeared, a smile stretching across my face.
When I look up, Demetri has the softest expression.
“I fucking love how much you love this,” he murmurs, and his comment hits me straight in the heart. The need to have him close is overwhelming—and is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Demetri stole away with my heart without me realizing he was even holding it.
