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Still holding the vase, he smirks at me with that same devilish grin from moments ago, then he gently places it back in the box. Silently, he stows away the vase and then the tote, only to pull out another, placing it on the table between us.
“I’ve been saving this one,” he says, catching me off guard. His fingers lightly tap the lid, and I can’t help but lean closer, my curiosity piqued.
“What is it?” I ask, even though it seems like just another box of supplies, but Ashton’s scent deepens, filling the room with a rich, sugary nutmeg aroma that makes my mouth water.
“You told me to paint,” he replies, peeling off the lid to reveal a white tarp, which he casually tosses onto the floor. “Let me paint you.”
I shift my gaze from the tarp to Ashton and back again. “Somehow, I don’t think not planning to paint me on a canvas. You actually want to paint on me,” I say, playful suspicion in my tone.
“I do,” he confirms, beginning to unpack paints he’s never used before. He peels off the plastic wrappers and then pops open the lids. “All of these are hypoallergenic and edible.”
“What?” I can’t help my surprise as I pick one up, inspecting the label. “It has your name on it.”
“They are mine,” he says casually. “Dev and Max invested in me.” He tries to downplay it, but I know it’s a big deal.
“This is incredible, Ashton.” I don’t even have to push the awe into my voice because it already exists.
He brushes off the compliment as if it’s nothing, and then he takes his shirt off, and suddenly, my thoughts scatter.
His torso is a canvas of black ink. An intricate octopus design swirls from his back to his chest, its tendrils wrapping aroundhis arms, slinking down past the band of his pants to his legs and hips. It takes me a moment to realize it’s all a single, connected piece.
“It’s like a coloring book,” I blurt out, awestruck.
“And you,” he whispers, “are a blank canvas.” Our eyes lock, and I see the excitement of an artist eager to work on a fresh surface.
Taking a deep breath, I step back, my heart racing as I lift my shirt over my head. I’m acutely aware of the extra curves across my hips, belly, and chest, but with Ashton’s gaze on me, those perceived flaws fade away. In his eyes, I don’t see the insecurities that normally cloud my mind.
I feel beautiful.
Ashton stands silently, his eyes traveling over my form before meeting my gaze again. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he says, his voice tender and honest.
“What will you paint?” I ask, a shiver running down my spine.
He responds by unbuttoning his pants and peeling them off, along with his shoes. I’m captivated by the octopus ink that seems to come alive on his skin. He stands before me, his muscular form leaving me breathless, clad only in boxers that reveal more than they hide. Overwhelmed, I have to turn away because, damn.
Itlooks right at me and likes what it sees.
I quickly shimmy out of my pants, standing there in only my simple cotton bra and panties. I hadn’t opted for anything sexy today, just comfort.
“Okay, so…” Ashton’s voice is a mix of excitement and lust. “We’ll sit in the center of the tarp.”
I bend over to straighten the tarp, and I hear his deep, guttural moan. Peeking up, I catch him ogling my backside as if it’s the most tempting thing he’s ever seen.
Every woman in this universe needs an Ashton to stare at her ass like he wants to bite into it.
I give my hips a playful wiggle, glancing down to see his reaction, and oh, how he reacts.
With a giggle, I smooth out the tarp and sit down, feeling a little jolt in my chest as I do.
“You’re killing me, munchkin,” he growls, hauling the tote over to us.
“Good,” I reply, peering into the tote as Ashton sits before me. I select purples and blues to paint in his octopus tattoo.
“Legs out, munchkin,” he instructs, his voice quivering slightly.
I love how I affect him. Stretching my legs over his, I scoot as close as I dare. His breathing quickens, and his excitement is barely contained by his boxers—part of me really wants to see it unleashed.
With a sinful smile, he leans in. His hands reach behind me, grabbing my backside and pulling me closer, so close that my most sensitive spot gently rubs against his arousal. I can’t hold back a whimper.
