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Because I wanted to feel her under me again. When the brush ran across her skin on the canvas, I closed my eyes and I could feel her moving under me. Feel the tight way she gripped me as she came, her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed, her moans rising to wails of ecstasy.
He moves behind me and I want to jealously cover her picture. But I don’t.
He draws in a sharp breath. “You painted that?”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know…you’re really good, little brother. She’s…”
“Glorious,” I whisper.
Her eyes are full of something dark and scared. But resolved too. Her soft lips are rounded in a slight smile. Every piece of her is perfect and yet human.
He looks at me. “I didn’t know you loved her.”
My shoulders slump. “How do you know that?”
“It’s in the painting. I can feel it.”
My head sinks into my chest. That’s why I can’t let anyone ever see this one. All of my emotions are bared to anyone who cares to look.
“You should put it in a show.”
“No.”
There’s one at the end of the month for the Christmas in July. Put it in there. That painting makes you vulnerable but it also makes her…I don’t know. It makes her perfect.”
I shrug and he sighs, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later. But think about what I said.” His head shifts back to the painting again.
“It really is amazing. It’s like she’s right there, breathing and looking out at you.”
I shrink into myself and stare at her again.
It may be all that I ever have of her again.
I can’t share it with the world.
It hurts too damn much for them all to see how much I loved her when she’s gone.
CHAPTER7
Onyx
Irun to the bathroom again and groan as the sick feeling washes over me.
“Jesus!” I moan, sinking back down to the floor as I toss my cookies again.
I sit up after the room stops spinning and grab a cup of water, swishing it around in my mouth.
Then I stand up shakily and walk out to my bedroom. I jump when the phone rings and then grimace when I see that it’s Carter.
I don’t pick up.
I will never pick up again. I have a meeting with the police this afternoon and I’m tired of playing around.
I dress swiftly, painfully and groan when my stomach ripples again.
I grab my keys and the folder full of evidence that I printed off. I get in my car and then drop my head to the steering wheel. My phone is still in my hand and I lift it up, pulling up the picture that I’ve looked at a million times in the last month. It’s been three weeks and a few days since I left but I can still close my eyes and see him in that damn bed, his eyes closed, his dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks. A smile on his lips.
