Faster We Burn - By Chelsea M. Cameron Page 0,91

some more shells, starting a seascape on her hip that stretched close to her bellybutton.

“What’s next, my sweet canvas?”

“Use your imagination.” She seemed to be out of ideas.

“So I can draw whatever I want?”

She grabbed my wrist before I could start drawing again. “Within reason.”

I grinned at her and gave her a kiss, which was meant to be quick, but turned heated before she nipped my lip near my lip ring.

“You’ve got a lot of skin to cover.”

***

I covered her shoulders and arms and stomach and back and ass and legs and feet with drawings. Flowers and swirls and stars and quotes that reminded me of her and song lyrics and little things that made me think of her. There was no continuity, except that they all reminded me of her.

I drew hearts on the bottom of her feet and sat back to admire her. She looked over her shoulder, trying to see her back.

“Come on,” I said, reaching for her. I picked her up and carried her to the full-length mirror that hung in her closet. I set her down and turned her so she could see.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You are freakishly talented.”

“An artist is nothing without good materials to work with, and a muse.”

She looked away from her beautiful body to meet my eyes. “Oh, so I’m your muse now?”

I touched a poppy I’d drawn on her shoulder in bold red marker.

“Every artist needs one.”

“You seemed to do pretty well without me before.”

“That was because I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“Hm,” she said, touching my more-permanent ink. “So I guess we’re not friends anymore, huh?”

“I beg to differ.” I kissed the poppy and picked her up, making her squeal as I tossed her back in bed. “I think you are my very best of best friends.”

I kissed her, not being able to hold back anymore.

“You and me,” she whispered against my lips.

“No space.”

Katie

It wasn’t until I woke up in Stryker’s arms the next morning that I realized I couldn’t go to class the way I was. He’d drawn all the way up around my neck, giving me what looked like a lace necklace, not to mention my arms and hands and legs. Unless I wore a bodysuit, everyone would be able to see it.

“Was this some sort of ploy to get me to not leave this room?” I said when his green eyes finally opened. I would totally paint my walls that color.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” He rolled over me and his dick pressed against me, ready to go again. I stroked him with my hand and he growled in my ear. He tried to remove my hand, but I wouldn’t let him.

“Your turn to learn patience, my friend.” I kissed my way down his chest as my hand worked and he swore and moaned. It was nice to know that I could affect him as much as he affected me.

I took him to the edge and back with my hands and my mouth, making him mine until I straddled him and we became united again.

***

“I did have class today, you know. And I’m sure that any moment now someone is going to knock on the door and ask me to go to breakfast,” I said, still panting. Some of the beautiful drawings were smudged, but I was still covered in them.

“What, you don’t want to go around like a walking art project? Afraid of what people will think?”

“No, I just don’t want them staring. I can’t deal with more people looking at me. It’s like being at the funeral all over again.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“No, it wasn’t. You just forgot, and so did I.” Even if it was just for a little while. Knock, knock. Reality calling. “I can’t believe I forgot. Oh my God.” I sat up and moved away from him.

“Oh my God. My dad is dead and we had sex and you said you loved me and I said it back. Oh God, I’m going to hell.” I tried to get out of bed, to get away from him, but he held onto me. I squirmed against him.

“We shouldn’t have done this.”

“You have got to stop blaming yourself for things, Katie.” He shook me a little as he said it. “Do you honestly think your dad would want you to stop living just because he did?”

I knew he wouldn’t. I thought back to what he’d said to me when we’d had that chat in the basement. That I

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