type?” I lift the paintbrush and make a small stroke right over his pectoral.
His chest rises with the touch. I’m leaning forward, making the petals, using the folding table to keep my balance. It’s a little awkward.
“I don’t want a shrinking violet,” he says, taking my hand that’s wrapped around the edge of the table and placing it on his thigh. It’s hard beneath my palm. I blink as my hand flexes over the chiseled muscle and look up at him. “But I don’t mind a woman who is willing to learn from me. With me.”
The warmth he radiates sends chills to places I should not be feeling right now. I have to close my eyes for a brief second, so I can gather my wits.
I scoot closer while trying to steady my breathing. “That doesn’t sound so bad. What other attributes would you want in a woman?”
My hand brushes against his skin again, and the smoothness that encases his toned abs makes me want to lick my lips. I take a deep inhale and glance up at him. When I notice he’s staring at me, my heart pounds even more.
I had no idea this would be so intense.
“I like the give and take of a relationship. Someone who complements me but also challenges me. I value a woman who is well put together.” His eyes skim over my perfectly lined eyes. “Sophisticated, bright, socially curious.” His brows rise, and I laugh lightly. “Fair-minded, an excellent conversationalist, and above all else”—he pauses, and I still my brush, waiting for his words—“honest. That…is what I want.”
Here I am, in a room full of people I don’t know, yet if I close my eyes, I feel like I’m only with him.
Seeing him.
Feeling him.
The way his breath tickles my neck. The way I can smell his cologne even though the scent has faded some, making it obvious he put it on hours ago. His manly scent comes through the added one, and it only reminds me of the times I lay with a man, woke up with him by my side, and felt comfortable, wrapped in his arms.
It’s been too long …
I want so badly to drop the brush and paint with my hands. I’m dying to feel his skin under my fingertips, not just by the side of my hand resting against him.
I swallow as I sit back, getting green paint on my brush. I swirl the tip of the brush down the ridges of his stomach. His body jolts when I get too close to the side.
“Sorry, I tried to tell you I was ticklish,” he says.
I grin before moving back in and finishing the flower. Before I make my final stroke, he places his finger on the side of my face, tucking a stray hair that fell. The simple gesture feels familiar.
“I like seeing your face as you paint.”
I clear my throat and sit back. “I’m finished. What do you think?”
He looks down at his chest and gives a smirk in approval. “You did good. I’m impressed.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “My turn.”
I lean down to meet the end of my dress, moving it up my body.
He stops me before I pull it up too far. “Are you sure you’re okay with taking off your clothes? I mean, I can paint your arm or even your hand.”
I’ve always been modest, but something about being with him gives me a touch of brazenness and has me brushing his hand away.
I’m only wearing a dress, so I have to lift it and remove the entire thing, leaving me in a pair of black lace panties and a matching demi cup bra. “Where do you want to start?”
I see the hesitation in his expression as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. His fists clench on his thighs while his chest expands with sharp, heavy breaths. “Lace on Lace.”
I giggle nervously. “It’s like wearing a bathing suit. Except it’s my underwear in a room full of strangers. I’m banking on the fact that they’re all too infatuated with each other right now to notice.”
“They’re infatuated all right.”
I hold my arms out to him. “I am your canvas.”
He takes a brush and studies me with a furrowed brow. “Where would you like me to paint?”
“Anywhere you’d like.”
A slow, sexy smile crosses his lips as he dips the brush in a ruby red.
“Now, it’s my turn to ask the questions,” he says as he paints. Starting at my clavicle, he makes