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And it isn’t as if I actually care that much about being an assistant.
“Fine,” I allow primly, grabbing my purse and coat. “Just don’t tell my boss. He can be a cranky bastard.”
Gage laughs and sweeps me out of the office and down to his town car. I expect him to take us to a restaurant, but instead, we pull up in front of an art supply store in the Village. I do a double take.
“What are we doinghere?” I ask.
“We’re getting whatever you need to paint a portrait,” he says.
We get out of the car and head into the store. I don’t entirely understand what he’s up to, but I’m never going to turn down an arts-supply shopping spree. I make a beeline for the canvases. “Who am I painting a portrait of?”
“Me,” he says, dropping a kiss at the base of my neck.
I shiver.
“Call me old fashioned,” he says, his voice low and gruff in my ear. “But if you’re going to do nude portraits, I’d rather you paint me.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about. And then I remember that night Jaylen and Tom stopped by the apartment, and I told Gage I only painted nude portraits.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was just messing with him, but then I think about painting Gage, naked and powerful.
It’s such a striking image my fingers itch to pick up a brush.
Gage looks down at my face. “Did I say something wrong? I’m just joking. You can paint whoever you want. Although it’d be great if you stuck to women and really ugly men...”
I laugh. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just excited to start painting.”
We buy everything else I’ll need for the portrait and head home.
* * *
“So,”Gage says, standing buck naked in the living room. “Where do you want me?”
I struggle to set up my easel, thoroughly distracted by the curve of his ass. Then he turns around to face me, and that’s distracting too.
“You know,” I say, “Normally models wear a robe until it’s time to start.”
“Why Miss Miller,” Gage teases, a cocky look in his eye. “Am I distracting you?”
He knows he is, damn him.
To get back at him, I shimmy out of my pants and toss them aside. I follow that up by wriggling out of my bra until it slides out from under my shirt and falls to the ground. Then, because I really do need to get comfortable to paint, I scoop my hair up into a bun, roll up the sleeves, and grab a bit of charcoal, ready to sketch the rough outline of him.
“Why don’t you sit in that chair?” I suggest, nodding toward a big winged-back chair. The setting sun will hit the side of his face, highlighting him in interesting ways.
Gage settles into the chair. Every line of him is proud, powerful, and gloriously alive. He looks like a fantasy masculine beauty come to life.
I give myself a shake and start sketching him. I thought I knew Gage’s body, but there’s something about giving myself permission to stare at every inch of it that leaves me even more entranced. I notice the way the setting sun glints in the hair on his forearm. The faint scar above his knee from when he jumped out of a window in college. The dark hair at the base of his...
I swallow, realizing one fairly significant difference between Gage and the only other times I’ve worked with a nude model.
Gage is noticeably hard. It’s hot as hell, but maybe not something he wants me immortalizing in painting.
“You’re beautiful when you paint,” Gage says, interrupting my focus. “I mean, you’re always beautiful. But I love watching you when you’re focused like this.”
Something warm and glowy flutters in my stomach. “I thought it annoyed you when I painted you.”
“It drove me crazy seeing you like this when I couldn’t have you.” He gives his cock a casual stroke, and my mouth goes dry. “Now I know I’m going to make you come as soon as you set down that brush.”
