“We said six months and then we’d reassess.” I remind him, running my fingers over his gorgeous mouth. “But I don’t need to wait six months. I know what I want, and it’s you. It will always be you.”
He envelops me in his arms, almost hugging me to death. “You make me so happy, Kendall,” he whispers. “I want to dance in the rain with you, sleep out under the stars, and shout my love from the highest mountain so no one doubts the depth of my feelings for you.”
“You make me happy too, and I want to explore the world with you. I want to visit the Parthenon in Athens, return to Egypt and find our river, freeze our butts off in Ireland, and watch the All Blacks perform the haka in New Zealand. I want to hold your hand as you build your dreams and paint rainbows in the sky.”
Grabbing my face, he kisses me deeply and slowly, and I swoon against him. When we break for air, we stare at one another, communicating with our hearts and minds, not needing words to convey everything we are feeling. “This is insane,” I whisper, planting my lips on the inside of his wrist. “But insanity has never felt so normal.”
37
VANDER
“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Kendall says, standing in front of me in her lacy, white underwear, dangling a silver necklace with a big blue heart locket from her finger.
“And how is that?” I ask though I have an inkling of what she means.
“Have you ever watched the movie Titanic?”
I shake my head. I’m seriously lacking on the chick-flick front because I’ve never had a girlfriend, I rarely date, and I don’t have any sisters.
“Blasphemy,” she jokes, walking slowly toward me, sashaying her hips in a way that has my cock jumping in my sweatpants. “We need to rectify that sometime, but right now, it means I want you to paint me wearing this.” She jiggles the necklace still hanging from her finger as she bats her eyelashes at me. “And only this.” She enunciates the words, and it’s sexy as all get out. I’m two seconds away from ravishing her on the floor when she steps back, waggling her finger in my face. “Nuh-uh. No sex until after you draw me in the nude.”
“Babe.” I groan, rubbing my throbbing dick. “Don’t torture me.”
“You’re a tortured artist. You need to suffer for your art,” she purrs, pointing at the chaise longue at the back of my studio. “Pull that into the middle of the room.”
As I comply with her demands, something occurs to me. “You made me buy this on purpose.”
A satisfied grin curves over her mouth. “I did. I guess I should confess,” she says, walking toward me and dropping a few coins in my hand. I stare at her in confusion. “For the portrait.” She leans in and brushes her mouth against mine in a tantalizingly slow manner, leaving me panting like a dog. She unclips her bra and tosses it aside. “The instant you said you wanted me to pose for you, I thought of the scene in Titanic. It’s so erotic and romantic, and every time I watch that movie, I wish it was me.” Her cheeks stain a rosy-pink color as she shimmies her panties down her slim legs. She strides toward me, buck-ass naked, completely confident, and utterly regal. Her gorgeous blue eyes glisten with emotion as she steps up to me, placing her hand on my chest. “I never thought I’d get to do something like this. I never thought I’d have the balls to strip in front of any man, under the glare of spotlights, let alone pose for a drawing, but I’m not ashamed to do this.” She kisses the corner of my mouth. “Because you are giving me back my confidence, Vander, and you make me feel beautiful.”
“You are beautiful.” I peruse her body slowly, loving what I see. “You’re exquisite, Kendall. Like a delicate bloom flourishing and coming to life before my eyes. I can’t take my eyes off you. You are all I see.”
“I love you, painter boy.” She kisses the other corner of my mouth before swatting my ass. “Now get to work.” I watch as she crawls onto the chaise longue and props herself on her side with her head on the armrest, one arm thrown up behind her and her hand beside her face. “Put the necklace on me,” she demands, and her bossy tone cranks my arousal to the max. It’ll be a miracle if I can get my hands to stop shaking long enough to draw her.
I fix the necklace around her neck, positioning it in the crevice between her pretty tits. She swats my hand away when I cop a cheeky feel, warning me to keep my hands to myself. When I have her posed just right, I ask permission to snap a few pics to reference later when I’m finishing the painting. Kendall agrees, and after taking a few shots, I put some music on in the background, pull my chair over, and settle down to draw her.
Little puffs of air glide from her plump lips, and her chest inflates as I begin drawing her. “Relax, sweetheart,” I murmur, my eyes moving from her naked body to my pad as I pencil in her outline, willing my hands to stop shaking. “Hold as still as you can.”
“As you wish, painter boy.” Her face is flushed, her eyes bright as she attempts to contain her nerves. I know this is a big deal for her, and it means so much that she trusts me to do this. As long as I live, I will never forget this moment.
Silence descends as I continue to draw her, filling in the curves on her body, while fire burns in my veins and my skin sizzles. Our chemistry sparks in the room, bouncing off the walls, adding an extra element to contend with. My hand trembles again, and she notices. “You’re shaking.”
I lift my eyes, immediately finding her gaze centered on me. “I’m nervous. I’m drawing the woman I love in a moment I have fantasized about for a long time. It’s kind of surreal, and I want to capture your beauty perfectly. Not just what is visible on the outside but the beauty that radiates from within.”
Her face softens. “I love you, Vander, and I trust you. You’re too talented to be nervous. I know it’s going to be breathtaking.”
“I think the day I’m not nervous about my talent is the day I’ve become complacent,” I admit, forcing my gaze back to my pad. I could sit and stare at her for hours and never grow tired of the view.
“So, nerves are good?” The inflection in her voice poses the question.
“Some are. As long as it isn’t debilitating.” I raise my eyes and pin her in place. “Now, shush, woman. Let the maestro work.”
Classical music wafts in the air as I settle into my work, perfecting her body on the page before I focus on her face. My fingers smudge the pencil, creating soft shadows that set the tone and warm contours that present her body in an almost ethereal way.
I inspect her face as my wrist tilts and I pencil in her features, marveling over the perfect symmetry, her cute button nose, her full mouth, the delicate smattering of freckles across the tops of her cheeks, and—the pièce de résistance—her stunning big blue eyes. Framed by thick, long, black lashes, they are the most unique violet-blue color I have ever seen. Kendall’s eyes truly are the window to her soul, and when I look into them, I instantly fall into their vibrant depths, and it takes colossal willpower to drag my gaze away.
“Keep that up, and you’re getting fucked,” she murmurs, reciting my words back at me.