As he glanced over the various paintings depicting mostly bits of history, some myths, and others he couldn't place into either category, he asked, "Have you ever considered putting together a book? Not just of the paintings themselves, but the stories that went with them? There's a fair bit of dragon-human history and magic in this room that I'm sure many would love to discover."
She looked up from the stack of paintings she'd been sorting through. "As brilliant as that'd be, writing isn't my strong suit. Not to mention I don't have the time to do the research required."
He smiled. "I'm good with both counts, although Kiyana Boyd is better at research and combing through dusty tomes than me. I'm sure the three of us could make it work. And depending on if you trust that Adam Keith bloke from Seahaven, you could even outsource the photography bits to him."
Lachlan hoped she didn't think he wanted to take charge of her art or force her into anything. But ideas were his strong suit, and he couldn't help but share them.
However, as soon as Cat walked up to him, brought his head down, and kissed him, his worries faded away. She whispered, "I love how without a thought, you just come up with a strategy to try and make an idea into a real possibility. Once everything settles down, let's talk to Kiyana and Adam and see if they're interested."
He ran a hand down her back and kissed her again. "Good, that'll give me time to come up with more of the specifics."
She laughed, kissed him, and stepped away to return to the shelf she'd been near before. "I'll leave the details to you. Although you may want to keep the extent of your brilliant planning skills a secret, or everyone will be asking for your help."
If the DDA didn't allow him to keep his job, he might just need the work.
But Lachlan didn't want to think of that right now. So he gestured toward the shelf. "Are any of the ones with me in there, or are you just stalling?"
She stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned. Cat pulled out a canvas but kept the painted side toward her. "I did this one not long after we first met, back when you still had long hair."
He frowned. "You've been painting me for that long?"
She bobbed her head. "I was a wee bit obsessed in the beginning. But this is definitely one of the better ones."
Before he could say she was always talented, she turned the canvas around, and Lachlan took a step closer.
He stood bare-chested, wearing only jeans and boots, his long hair blowing in the wind. Behind him was a dark purple dragon who had one forelimb wrapped possessively around his middle, their wings outstretched behind.
They stood on a ledge above a loch, with Lochguard in the distance. Upon closer inspection, he could tell the buildings started out crude and simple on one side, slowly morphing into the more modern-day layout of the dragon clan on the other.
He must've studied it a long time because Cat cleared her throat and asked, "So? What do you think?"
Rather than empty praise, he was honest. "I rather like how you showed the passage of time in the background, almost as if you wanted Lochguard of the past to merge with that of the present."
He chanced a glance, and Cat nodded. "I thought it fit the main subject since in times long past, no dragon-shifter female and human male would ever be allowed together."
Standing upright again, Lachlan never broke her gaze. He had a feeling he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted to make doubly sure. "Who's the purple dragon, lass?"
She murmured, "Me."
He'd been right, as hard as it was to believe. Cat had wanted him all this time, which seemed impossible. "I was rude and cold to you back then, though. Why would you paint us together?"
She shrugged. "It was just a painting. Besides, there are loads of purple dragons on Lochguard. No one knew it was me except, well, me. And it was just a painting, and in it, we could be whoever I wanted us to be."
He took a step closer. "Am I what you wanted, lass?"
"Better."
Lachlan gingerly took the painting, placed it on the ground, and hauled Cat against his front. "Don't ever sell that one. When you feel ready, I want it hanging in our home."
As he cupped her cheek, she leaned into his touch and said, "I won't sell it. But there are others where I used you for inspiration, so maybe you should wait to pick the best one. I'll allow one or two, but not all of them. Because then my siblings would tease us endlessly about how I'm turning our cottage into a Lachlan shrine."
He smiled. "For now, at least, that's the painting I want."
She gestured toward the other pieces. "Let me get the other ones and show you first. They're all here."
He threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair and guided her head closer. "Right now, I don't care about the other paintings."
She smiled, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Oh, aye? Then what are you thinking?"
He pressed her closer against his front, doing his best not to hiss at her soft stomach against his erection. "I'm thinking it's time to make some art of our own, in your studio, with us both naked."
She raised an eyebrow. "If you're suggesting we paint our bodies and have sex on top of some canvas, let me stop you right now because cleanup would be ridiculous. Paint would get everywhere."
He chuckled. "No, lass, not that. I'm thinking of a more live-action sort of piece." He moved to her ear and whispered, "The exploration of Cat MacAllister." He nipped her earlobe and added, "Directed, produced, and performed by one Lachlan MacKintosh."
She snorted. "That sounds a wee bit ridiculous."
"The title or the production?"
Leaning more against him, her voice turned husky, "Definitely the title. I'm rather curious about the production and performance."
"Then let's have a rehearsal, and you can tell me what you think after, aye?"
Her pupils flashed, only emphasizing the desire in her gaze.
It took everything he had not to kiss her right then and there. But the storage closet was small, and he wanted to see her naked, bathed in the sunlight of her studio.
Taking her hand in his, Lachlan tugged her from the storage closet and into her studio space.
Since there wasn't any furniture beyond the table, stools, and chair, he motioned for her to stay put. "Don't move."
He grabbed the blanket he'd seen in a chair, laid it on the ground, and then stood in front of Cat. She reached for him, but he shook his head. "My production, remember?"
Her pupils flashed again. "Then start directing, or I may take over."
The corner of his mouth ticked up at the impatience on her face. "Then let's begin, lass."
He moved behind her, brushed her hair off her neck, and kissed the soft skin. Cat's body instinctively swayed toward him. However, Lachlan drew upon his years of learning patience so he could resist her, knowing the reward would be sweeter at the end. And so he murmured, "Stay still."
"Surely you can't expect me to—"
He took her earlobe between his teeth and lightly worried it. She sucked in a breath, and he whispered, "Aye, I do. You've taught me how to have a wee bit of fun. Now it's my turn to teach you some patience." He kissed down her neck and lightly bit where it met her shoulder. After laving the bite, he added, "Now, raise your arms."