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“Thanks for this, Tori,” I said, looking over at her paint-splattered face. “You were right. It is relaxing.”
“Anytime, Ridge. Anytime.” Her laughter was as warm and infectious as ever. “How does it feel?”
“Surprisingly liberating,” I said honestly. As I continued to add strokes of paint, gradually mixing in other colors to my original crimson, I experienced a freedom I wasn’t familiar with. My worries lightened with every brushstroke, giving way to a rare serenity.
“See? I told you it would be relaxing.”
“You always seem to know exactly what I need.” Genuine admiration colored my tone. “Your talent for reading people never ceases to amaze me.”
“Maybe I’m just attuned to you, Ridge.”
Her words sent a thrill through my body, igniting a spark of hope deep within me. Our bond was already intense. How strong would it be once we claimed each other? I couldn’t wait to find out.
“Why don’t we try something different?” she suggested, placing a fresh canvas on the easel before me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Close your eyes and just let the brush guide your movements.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “Are you trying to get me to make a mess?”
“Trust me,” she replied, the intensity in her eyes unwavering.
Reluctantly, I closed my eyes, feeling the weight and texture of the brush’s handle in my hand. The slick paint on my brush transferred easily to the canvas as I pressed down. With nothing but instinct to guide me, I moved my hand cautiously, Tori’s steady presence a comfort. When I opened my eyes, I saw a complex swirl of colors on the canvas—chaotic yet strangely harmonious.
“Wow,” I said. “I never thought I could create something like this.”
“Sometimes, letting go of control is the key to unlocking our true potential.” I could feel her warm breath on the shell of my ear, her words barely audible. “You’re capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. Careful,” she warned, “you’re about to dip your brush into the wrong tin.”
“Thanks.” I adjusted my hand and dipped the brush into the correct shade of blue. Tori’s close proximity was testing my focus. “More like this?” I asked as I applied the paint to the artwork.
“Perfect.” She pressed her warm body against my side. “Good, now let’s try adding some white here.” She pointed at a specific part of the canvas, her fingers brushing accidentally against my hand. Heat flared through me at the contact, making it hard to concentrate on anything but her touch.
“Here?”
“Yep, right there.”
“Okay, got it.”
“Your technique is improving,” she commented, trailing her hand over my arm. Her touch lingered. I was certain it wasn’t accidental this time.
“Must be the great teacher I have,” I remarked.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I could hear the smile in her tone, and I grinned in response, despite not being able to see her face.
“Focus, Ridge, focus,” she urged.
“Hard to do when you’re so close.” My words held an edge of frustration laced with desire.
She shifted slightly away from me. “Sorry. Let me give you some space.”
As soon as she moved, I regretted my words, longing for the feel of her body against mine again. “Don’t go too far,” I said. I didn’t want her to feel like I was pushing her away, even if her touch made it difficult to think straight.
“All right.” She pointed back to our creation. “Just a little more blending here.”
Her hands guided mine as we worked together on the canvas, the intimacy of the moment creating a spark between us that was impossible to ignore. The closeness of our bodies left me feeling breathless.
“Whoops.” She laughed as she smeared paint onto my nose. “That’s for not focusing.”
“Hey!” I feigned indignation, then brushed paint on her cheek in retaliation. “Now we’re even.”
“Are we?”
