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Onyx
“That painting is bloody brilliant, Merrick.” I can’t stop staring at it. The softness and yet glowing brightness of the early morning on the water. It’s fucking breathtaking.
“Yeah, sure.”
“No. Really. You’re really talented. You need to keep painting. You’ve got a gift.”
“Don’t let my brother hear you say that,” he mutters under his breath.
I reach out and touch his firm jaw, tilting his head up. “Hey. Don’t let everyone tell you that you can’t do something. If you’ve got a calling…keep going. If you let them stifle that creativity, that feeling inside of you that keeps you going every damn day, you’ll only be living half a life, Merrick. And although half a life is something, it’s not enough.”
He turns to look at me and there’s a haunted look in his dark eyes that feels like looking in a mirror.
“It’s hard to do that sometimes, Onyx.”
Stifling a snort that almost becomes a sob, I smile slightly. “Yeah, I know it is. But you and I know what it’s like to have that spark inside us. The one that drives us to create. To make something that feels…right. Something that strangers look at and feel like someone finally gets them. That they see the same thing that you do. It’s exhilarating.”
“That’s true.” His dark eyes widen and he moves closer to me. I swear there’s a look in his eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time. Desire coils in my belly. His big hand reaches out and touches my curls lightly. His full lips twist and then his teeth bite into his bottom lip.
“Can I ask you something, Onyx?” The breathless sound in his deep voice almost matches the pressure in my chest.
I nod my head, my eyes closing when his face moves closer to me. His lean cheekbones and tanned face have a hungry, predatory look like a lion fixing to pounce.
“Can I paint you, Onyx?”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in and humiliation burns in my cheekbones as I open my eyes to see him standing so close to me, his eyes darting over my face like he’s memorizing me.
“Me?” I whisper. “Why do you want to paint me, Merrick? I’m nothing special.”
His head shakes and the longish dark hair that brushes his collar rustles. “That’s not true. Anyone looking at you can see something special there, Onyx. I want to…no, I need to paint you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Onyx. It’s been a long time since I have literally itched to paint something or someone. I crave painting you.”
I look in his eyes, my own struggling to figure out what’s going on with him. But I’m not sure what it is.
“I don’t know…”
“Please, Onyx. This feels like I have to do it.”
He looks pained and I stifle a sigh. “Fine. I guess you can paint me.”
Pure joy rises in his gorgeous face and I have to struggle not to jump at him. He’s so damn pretty.
But I shove it down when he starts to grab supplies. A palette and brushes and paints.
“Now? You want to start now?” I glance down at my jeans and lightweight t-shirt.
“Absolutely. Right now.”
“But shouldn’t I change?”
“No! I want to paint you just like that.”
“Okay…”. I groan and then look around on the beach. “Where are you wanting to do this?”
He grabs my hand and drags me away, leading me for minutes before we finally stop in front of a little cottage. “This is my place. I’ve got a studio. Can I paint you there? Do you trust me?”
