The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,25

than any nightmare.

The warehouse shivered in silence, both of us too afraid to break the oppressive stillness as Gilbert traded his air gun for small bottles and brushes. Enlisting sponge-tipped tools, he added further flourishes.

I locked my knees as he migrated his way up my body. The sensation of paint covering my lower part kept the chill at bay, but it didn’t stop my nipples from pebbling as Gil stopped at my chest and made a strange noise.

My heart raced but his face hid any sign of being anything but professional as he reached out with a small sponge and dabbed my breasts with blackened purple.

I stiffened as the wet intrusion of colour made my skin hyperaware of him. It took everything I had to pick a dirty spot on the ceiling and keep my eyes locked on it.

I hoped he’d move onto other areas like he had before, but I wasn’t given a reprieve. He stayed painfully close, his frame huge and hulking, his eyes narrowed and calculating, his energy casting waves every time he touched me with his medium.

My eyes closed despite my command to stay open. My chest heaved while he worked so close he could’ve pressed his nose into my cleavage. An utterly, miserably long eternity passed while he painted flesh that hadn’t been touched in a very long time, unwittingly wrapping me up in barbwire desire until I could barely think, let alone remain standing.

The longer he bowed over my breasts, tracing the arm looped between them, the shallower his own breathing became. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The careful cruelty on his face flickered with seconds of barely restrained violence.

Violence for me? For us? Our past? His work? His injuries? His business?

I didn’t know.

I’d probably never know.

All I knew was my body didn’t care what Gil had done to me in the past. It wanted him, and this was a new level of unbearable torture.

I’m glad this is a one-time deal.

If I had to stand like this again for him, I’d burn through my self-restraint and end up pushing him to the floor with need. I’d ruin everything all because being with him brought the past to life and nullified the worries of my future.

I breathed him in, learning his scent of citrus, paint thinner, and moody colours. I exhaled just as quickly. He drugged me. Confused me. Hurt me.

He stopped breathing altogether as he swapped his sponge for a delicate brush and did his best to make me collapse with the fine bristles. At one point, self-preservation took over and my chin dropped and shoulders rolled to inch away from his artist’s touch.

But he clucked his tongue, pressed paint-smeared fingers under my jaw and coerced me back into place. “Never break the position.”

His voice was odd. Thick as oil and dark as charcoal. He cleared his throat as our eyes met. The undercurrent of electricity made me burn alive and freeze to death in equal measure.

“Okay,” I strangled as he dropped his fingers and cocked his head, utterly regal and terribly callous. His gaze darted down my mostly painted form with a frown. In a flash, his heavy hand angled my hip closer to him, twisting me this way and that like some store-bought mannequin with plastic in her veins instead of blood.

“Don’t move again.” With his bitten command, he resumed painting as if fire hadn’t sparked and crackled between us. The hair on my arms prickled beneath his colours. My scalp tingled. My tummy clenched. All because I found him beyond attractive as he worked in his element.

His face slipped a little, revealing a wash of lust. Then it was gone again, drowned by the impenetrable artist. “Arch back. I can’t get a part of your ribcage.”

I shuddered as his knuckles nudged my shoulder, pushing me. “Do what I say.”

Trembling, I called on muscles to brace me as I reclined backward, feeling my breasts rising, my arm slipping, my stomach flattening—every part of me elongating to balance.

It felt like a dance.

A frozen in time chorography.

My heart leapt for joy.

My back twinged with agony, warning me not to go too far.

A black noise rumbled in his chest as I settled into this new back-breaking position. For a second, no brush or sponge touched me. Gil stood beside me, his body heat scorching, and I wondered...just for a moment...if he’d snap.

If he’d give into the fog of desire that’d grown so thick around us.

I wanted him to throw down his tools,