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“Me neither.” I smile and sniff.
He grins and moves closer to me, holding my hands. Then he looks around the studio. “I’ve never had sex in here,” he says. He looks back and gives an impish smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”
I hold up a finger. “First of all, I have to give you your birthday present.”
He chuckles. “Okay.”
I look around. There’s a sofa, but I was hoping for some cushions. “Hold on. I have to get something.”
I run out of the room, grab the duvet from his bed, bring it back in, and lie it on the floor, in front of the windows. I get the sheet that was covering the painting and put it over the top. Then I retrieve my bag and take out the present I bought for him. It’s in a medium-sized box. He watches me do all this with amusement.
“Here you go.” I hand it to him.
Giving me a puzzled look, he tears off the wrapping. It’s a tub of body paints in all the basic colors plus a few metallic and sparkly ones, complete with a black eyeliner for detailed work, and sponge applicators.
His eyebrows rise, and he stares at me.
I toe off my shoes and take off my socks. Then I peel off my T-shirt. I’m not wearing a bra, and his eyes widen. My jeans follow, and now I’m just wearing a pair of black lacy knickers I bought especially.
“Thought you might like to paint me,” I tell him, my heart racing. “Then you can take some photos, if you like. And after that, maybe we could have a bath. They wash off with water.” I lift my hair, which had been down, and pin it up with a butterfly clip I had in my bag.
A smile spreads slowly across his face. “That’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
I grin. “Why don’t you go and get us a drink? Then you can get painting.”
He pauses though, pulls me into his arms, and gives me a long, slow kiss, before he leaves me to pour us both a drink.
Blowing out a breath, I sit on the sheet-covered duvet and wait for him to come back. He returns with two tall glasses of G&T. Putting them on the polished floorboards, he brings over a low table and transfers the drinks and the paints onto them. He adds a roll of kitchen paper, some rags, a jar of water, brushes, and a few other items. He also collects his phone and puts on a playlist of some folksy blues.
Then he stands in front of me and starts unbuttoning his jeans with a sexy smile, keeping his gaze fixed on me.
“The plan was for you to paint first,” I say, a bit faintly.
“Thought you might enjoy having a go, too,” he says. He slides the jeans down his legs and steps out of them, grabs a handful of his tee at the back of his neck, and tugs it off. Now he’s just wearing his black boxer-briefs.
I feel a swell of happiness as he lowers onto the duvet opposite me, and we sit cross-legged in front of each other. He passes me my drink, and we clink glasses and have a few mouthfuls.
He leans forward, slides a hand to the back of my neck, and brings me close so he can kiss me. When he finally releases me, I look across again at the painting he callsLimerence, still stunned by how beautiful he’s made me look.
“I wonder how many of your women you’ve made into goddesses,” I tease. Juliette told me he has several canvases hanging in his office at Kingpinz.
“Just you,” he says. “None of my other paintings were inspired by real women.”
“Seriously?”
“I never lie.”
“Oh yeah,” I say softly. “I forgot.”
He smiles and turns to the box of paints. He gets out the pots and opens them up, so the colors are all ready to dip into. Then he passes me a brush and takes one for himself.
“I’m not great at painting,” I say doubtfully.
He laughs. “Just cover me in rainbows if you like. I don’t care. Go on. You can start.”
I sit and study him for a moment. What kind of design should I do? I think of the painting he did of Rangi and Papatuanuku. In Maori legend, their son is called Rehua. He’s also known as the Lord of Kindness.
Smiling, I dip the brush into the yellow paint and draw it across his chest.
