fingertips bit into the flesh of his shoulders as he ground into her, each thrust driving higher and harder, pushing her closer. His mouth left hers, seeking a nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he rocked into her.
Kent lifted his head and groaned as his building climax dug fiery fingers deep into his buttocks, his arms anchored either side of her trembling as they held him up.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Sadie whispered as she too felt the bubble rising inside her.
He buried his face in her neck as everything spiralled out of control. He tried to hold it back, to hold them in the moment where things hung on a precipice between pleasure and completion, but the primal call was too strong for him and he let the wave sweep him away as she tightened around him and joined him in the maelstrom.
Sadie woke again as the sky was just starting to lighten. The stars were still out but waning as obsidian faded to velvet. Kent was sleeping, the first violet hues of dawn lying gently against his number-two stubble and beautiful mouth. She wanted to wake him but, between an insatiable sex drive and an obviously exhausting dream, his night had been disturbed enough.
She felt around her for his shirt which had been discarded somewhere in the bedding, finally locating it down by her foot. God alone knew where her thong was. She had a feeling Kent might have tossed it over the side.
The air still felt cool and she dragged the shirt on, doing up three buttons as she sat up, the sky too resplendent to miss. She reached behind her into her bag, pulling out the sketch pad and pastels she’d taken from Leo’s, inspired again as she had been the other night under the stars when she hadn’t had access to materials.
She sat with her back to Kent facing the road and the uninterrupted view in that direction. All that could be heard as the morning lightened to soft baby blues was the scratching of the pastels on the paper as Sadie sketched like a woman possessed, hurrying to capture the moment that night faded and dawn encroached before it was lost to her for ever.
She was so utterly absorbed in the process she didn’t even feel Kent stir until he was behind her, pressing a kiss into her neck, peering over her shoulder.
She shut her eyes as he rumbled, ‘Good morning,’ in her ear.
She sighed, snaking a hand behind her and anchoring it around his neck, her fingers stained with a multicoloured chalky residue. She settled against his broad naked chest as his arms encircled her waist.
She felt stiff from sitting hunched over the sketch pad and she stretched a little as she said, ‘Morning.’
Kent looked down at the sketch pad, the drawing arresting him immediately. It had captured the essence of an outback dawn with the vivid colours and swirls around the fading stars similar to those used by Van Gogh in his famous starry night painting, and yet there was something uniquely contemporary Australian about it.
It was an incredible blend of old world charm and modern boldness. It was simply stunning.
‘Sadie...’ He shook his head. ‘That’s...amazing.’
Sadie blushed at the compliment. ‘It’s just a sketch,’ she dismissed, used to disregarding her work.
Kent shook his head. ‘No, it’s not. It’s...a work of art.’
Sadie gave a half-laugh. She liked what she saw, and creating it had felt incredible, but she could see its flaws and felt the old doubts return. Could hear Leo’s you’re not talented enough mantra in her head.
‘I couldn’t not,’ she said absently, looking down at the sketch. ‘When I woke up and saw the sky, I couldn’t not capture it. I had to do it.’
Kent heard the surprise in her voice. ‘Well, that says a lot, doesn’t it?’ he murmured.
Sadie frowned as she half turned to look at him. ‘What does it say?’
‘You’re an artist, Sadie Bliss. And whatever the hell you’re doing with this journalism gig is just wasting your time. You were obviously born to do this.’
Sadie shook her head as she turned back to the sketch. ‘No. I’m not good enough.’
Kent tightened his hand around her belly. ‘Says who? Leonard Pinto?’
Sadie shrugged. ‘The man does have an eye for art.’
Kent felt irrationally angry that one man could screw with a woman’s head so much. ‘Leonard paints women who look like boys. I think his eye is seriously off. I also think he knows exactly how talented you are but