“People do want to see that. Plus, you’ll be creating. No finished products. We can put some kind of filter on it if that helps. I promise you, though, it’s going to be a stunning sight.”
The passion, sincerity, and honestly in his voice warmed her to her core. It did kind of sound like fun. That didn’t keep her from being terrified about it though. “Just of the canvas?”
“And the artist. They want video, too.”
“That will take time. We won’t be able to complete as many challenges if we pause for this one.” She was making excuses and she knew it. She just wasn’t sure why.
Miles placed a finger under her chin and lifted, so he could meet her gaze. “Tell me no, or tell me what you’re afraid of, so we can address it.”
What if they hated it? She wasn’t sure who they were. The other contestants. The people voting. This was a group of strangers who didn’t seek her out. Competing against her for money. Could her ego handle it if she got hate? “No one wants to watch me paint.”
“I do, and I’ve got excellent taste.” He slid his hand to cup her cheek. It wasn’t a new gesture, but the physical contact, the sweetness of it, tugged on the memories of what they’d just done. “You don’t have to do it,” he said. “But you’re brilliant and talented and beautiful, and if you want something that will shine above every other entry, this is it.”
He might be right.
If she wanted to get bigger, she had to put herself out there.
This could be a chance for free advertising.
Miles believed in her, and he’d never lied to her.
None of that quelled the terror swelling inside
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Miles didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Ivy said yes. She deserved recognition for her talent, and this was another step toward getting it. He wanted to shout and wrap her in a hug, and give her a huge kiss.
He settled for an awkward high five.
And awkward continued to define their trip back to her place, so she could set up. She spent the drive wringing her fingers together and staring out the window.
How much of that was because she was nervous about this idea, and how much was tied to the sex with him? He needed to make this right.
He parked in the driveway, and she let them into her studio. She rented a one-bedroom basement apartment from a friend of her grandmother. The woman who lived upstairs didn’t drive, so Ivy had full access to the garage. She parked her car inside when the weather was bad, but otherwise she used the entire space as her studio.
They stepped inside, and she lingered in the doorway.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She jumped, and stared at him with wide eyes, then shook her head. “Nothing. I’m going to go change into something better for painting in. Be right back.”
I’ll help. Miles swallowed the offer. If he followed her inside, he’d want to keep her there for hours. He shouldn’t even be considering that scenario.
But that one little taste of Ivy wasn’t enough. The sensation of her soft lips still lingered on his. Her flavor whispered on his tongue. Phantom touches danced across his skin.
She returned a moment later, wearing a tank top. The walk from her apartment to the garage, in chilly weather, was enough to make her nipples pert, tempting dials poking through cotton.
He dragged his gaze away.
“All right. Let’s do this.” She frowned, and looked him over. “Except, you’re not dressed for painting.”
He hadn’t considered that. It didn’t matter. The slacks could be replaced, and if the shirt got oil on it, it would become Ivy’s. One of his favorite sights was Ivy in his old shirts. “I’ll be fine. Not wearing anything I’m emotionally attached to.”
She shrugged, and flipped on the lights. He turned on the space heater.
While she arranged her work area, he moved around the room, picking the best spots for photos. “I’ll take some from the side, some from the back, and some with your face in the picture,” he said. “But I promise you get final approval on everything.”
“Okay.” Ivy took her spot in front of the canvas, pencil in hand. She frequently sketched faint lines, to give her a direction, before she put any paint down.
She stood there, arm in mid-air, not moving.
Miles waited a few seconds, and then a little longer. He’d seen her work before, and this wasn’t right. “What’s wrong?”
“Performance anxiety.”
There was none of that earlier. Not the response he should give. “You’ve painted in front of me a million times. Pretend the camera isn’t here,” he said kindly.
“Yeah, it doesn’t work that way.”
Fair point. “Think about something else. Clear your mind, and focus on... not this.”
“That’s a bad idea, given what I’m about to do.” She set her pencil on the high table next to her easel. “Be right back.”
What was she up to?
She jogged in the house, and returned with her laptop and an external webcam she used for some of her photography. She grabbed a stool from the corner of the room, dragged it to the spot next to Miles, and set up the electronics on it.
Ivy handed him the pencil, and pointed him at the canvas. “I’m recording. Draw something,” she said.
That wasn’t what he did. “You’re the artist.”
“A blank canvas is terrifying. Make it not blank for me.”
He could do that. He sketched a rough—very rough—heart. Inspiration struck, and he filled in googly eyes and gave it whiskers and cat ears.
“And you said you weren’t an artist.” Ivy laughed. Yup, that was still his favorite sound. Though, the gasps she made when she came were a close second.
Miles handed back the pencil. “Quit stalling.”
She stepped around him, studied the lines, then began to draw. As she added elements to what he’d created, a new image took shape. A cage. Wings. An intricate dagger. Her hand glided across the surface in a fluid dance of creation.
“Amazing.” He didn’t realize he’d spoke then thought aloud until he heard his own voice.
She glanced back at him, pink flushing her face, the returned to the work. “It’s just a rough draft.”
He wanted to kiss away her blush.
She grabbed a brush, squirted a few dollops of color onto a pallet, and began to fill in color. It was all basic lines right now. The piece would take her a few days to finish, based on her past work.
It was still stunning to see. He loved watching her create, and seeing what came out of the process.
As she worked, her webcam recorded, and he snapped several photos as well.
She fell into her art, and everything around her vanished. He saw it happen. The tension faded from her shoulders. Her brush strokes grew longer and more fluid. She stopped glancing at him every few seconds.
If she wanted to submit more competition entries, he’d have to stop her soon, but he didn’t want to interrupt.
A loud pop echoed through the room, like a miniature explosion.
They both jumped.
A series of wet splatters hit Miles, some of them dripping down his face. Dark red dotted his arm, his phone, Ivy, her hair.
What the hell?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ivy’s pulse hammered under her skin at the sound. She wiped a hand across her cheek, and brought it away smeared with... burgundy oil paint?
She looked around the room, and her gaze landed the source of the mini-disaster. A tube of paint had fallen in front of the space heater, and exploded. She laughed in relief.
“What’s so funny?” Miles growled.
She looked at him, and horror spread inside. “You’re all covered in paint. No. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed a rag and dabbed some turpentine on it. It wasn’t going to save his clothing though.
“What happened?” he asked.
She nodded at the destroyed paint. “It exploded.”
He chuckled. And then
he laughed. And then he didn’t stop.
She joined in. It wasn’t that funny, but the stress relief was glorious.
“I had a flash of panic,” he said when they paused to catch their breath. “That something happened to you. I was terrified, but it’s just paint.”
“And it’s everywhere.”
He looked past her and frowned. “It’s on your painting.”
She glanced back, and her grin didn’t fade. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll make it work.” Her mind already whirred with ideas.
He dragged a thumb across her cheek, smearing another splash of paint. The warm, slick texture slid across her skin.
“You’re making things worse,” she teased. She dabbed her finger in the blue on her pallet, then bopped it on his nose. “How do you like it?”
He smirked. God, that was delicious. “I like it just fine. A little color never hurt anyone.” He dipped into the yellow, then smudged his thumb along her collarbone.
She tried to laugh, but it faded into a gasp when he trailed along the hollow at the base of her throat.
She looked up to find him watching her, gaze hungry. Her breath caught and her giggles died. Heat danced along her skin with the intensity of his stare. Desire prickled in her veins. Time seemed to stand still.
He growled, and tangled his fingers in her hair. He kissed her with enough force, she stumbled.
She stepped back to keep her balance, but didn’t make it. She tripped, caught the pallet on her way down, and landed on her ass in the middle of a rainbow of oil paint.
Her giggles were back.
Miles offered her a hand, and tugged her to her feet. “I don’t even care.” He grinned. “It doesn’t matter if paint gets everywhere.” He cupped her ass.
She gasped at the playfully possessive squeeze. Her heart was hammering against her ribs again.
He pressed his paint-covered palm onto his own shirt, leaving a messy splotched handprint behind.
“My favorite piece to-date,” she trailed her finger through the goop.
He grabbed her wrist. “No taking credit for my work.”
The sharp sting of his grip sang though Ivy.
He spun her away, then pulled her into him, so her back pressed into his chest. Paint oozed over the top of her tank top line.
“I need a new canvas.” He growled against her neck.
Before she could ask for details, he yanked off her shirt. A faint rip reached her ears. It didn’t matter if something tore. She’d sleep in it along with the memories.
“It’s always driven me nuts that you wear these without a bra.” He cupped her bare breasts. The thin layer of paint heated rapidly against her skin.
She pressed into his palms, memorizing his touch. “I like as few restrictions as possible when I’m painting.”
“I’m not complaining. Not even close.” His breath was hot on her skin.
His fingers slipped as he rolled her nipples between them. He’d spread enough paint elsewhere that the thin layer was drying and tacky. As he pinched he swollen pink nubs on her chest, his grip stuck, leaving a faint sting with each pinch.
It was all amazing. She leaned more weight into him, sinking into the attention he gave her breasts. Dampness grew between her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together.
That made the throb more intense.
She liked the attention, but she wanted to return the favor. To feel more of Miles.
Ivy spun, careful not to break his grip, and dragged her fingers down his chest, undoing each button as she went. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders.
He captured her mouth in a long kiss when she leaned in. Each time he brushed his lips over hers, a little voice in her head cheered. This was supposed to feel good, but not this good.
She refused to think about it ending after today. They were here, now, and that was all that mattered.
“I swore next time we did this, I’d take my time,” he murmured against her mouth. “But you make it difficult to exercise restraint.”
She couldn’t help a shy smile. “You assumed there was going to be a next time?” Was she glowing? She felt like she was glowing.
“I’d like say of course. I would with anyone else. But with you, it was more of a desperate hope.” As he talked he dragged his fingers up her back, pulling her into him.
The press of skin on skin left more paint behind, and raced over her, leaving need in its wake.
He stepped back enough to look her over, without letting go. “You’re the most stunning canvas ever.”
Heat flooded her skin at his touch and words. The only reply she could summon was to move closer and kiss him again. She fumbled with his belt, but had an easier time undoing his slacks the rest of the way.
They pressed into each other, trading gropes for groans, as they shoved the rest of their clothes to the ground. Paint got everywhere either of them touched, decorating their bellies and legs.
He glided his hands down her ass, pulling her into his erection. “I don’t know if I can put on a condom without getting paint on it.”
“Skip it.” She just wanted to feel him inside her again. “I’m on birth control. We’re both clean?”
“Yes.” He lowered her to the drop cloth, into a fresh splash of paint. Some of it had dried. In other places the colors smeared together in a vibrant mud.
He rolled onto his back, and pulled her on top of him. “I want to watch you ride me. I need to see as much of you as possible,” he said.
She nodded, and lowered herself onto his shaft. When he plunged inside, she arched into the sensation.
The way he stretched her out... How he studied her like she was precious... His hands roaming her chest, and cupping her breasts again... Everything about this moment was perfect.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What was Miles doing? He had no idea beyond adoring Ivy. Sinking into every sensation of fucking her. Sliding inside her. Trying to take things slowly.
He watched her face and used her moans to gauge her enjoyment. Each gasp and whimper it was tempting to set a fast and hungry pace.
“Play with yourself.” He commanded. Her hands were free of paint where his weren’t. How did she manage that?
She slipped her fingers between her legs. When she brushed her clit, she squeezed him tight.
Miles gripped her hips with a groan, and clenched to keep orgasm at bay. He moved one hand back to roll a nipple between his fingers. The silent part of her lips was its own work of art.
While she fingered herself, he pinched and teased.
“I want more.” Her voice was breathy.
Right now, he’d give her anything. “More what?”
“Of you. Harder.”
The boldly timid request almost unraveled him. “If I do that, I’m going to come.”
“Okay.” She licked her flushed and swollen lips.
Fuck. He let her increase the pace, and slammed inside of her. Each new thrust tightened like a cord around him, coiling the desire in his body.
Her cries grew louder and more punctuated.
Climax tightened in his balls, and he fought to hold back.
She clenched around his cock when she came, screaming and grinding into him. Lost in her own pleasure.
The sight, the sensations, the incredible sound of her voice, it all unraveled him. He hammered against her and spilled inside her. He didn’t ease up until his body shuddered in protest.
Ivy half-collapsed, half-sank onto his chest. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it over both of them. It was a shitty blanket, bit it would work for now.
“This is going to take forever to wash off if we let it dry on our skin.” Ivy’s tone didn’t imply urgency, despite the words.
He brushed a spot on her face. It had already dried. “Too late. Also, I think we left the camera on.”
Her light laugh vibrated through his chest. “I hope it captured something incredible.”
He was pretty sure it had. Lucky camera. He wasn’t as fort
unate. Because when it came right down to it, Ivy wasn’t his at the end of the day. He’d betrayed her. She needed better.
That wouldn’t stop him from enjoying this moment.
Her breathing slowed and evened out. Was she fading into sleep? He’d love to do that. But it was getting cold outside, and afternoon was creeping in.
“Hey.” He nudged her gently. Reluctance and regret spread inside. He didn’t want this moment to end.”You need to post your entry.”
She gave a heavy sigh, and extracted herself from his arms. “I know.”
Miles stood, grabbed his now-ruined shirt, and draped it over her shoulders. “This is going to be warmer than your tank top.”
“Thank you.” She buttoned it up, then yanked on her jeans.
He pulled on his slacks and jacket. They shut everything down, and sprinted inside.
For the next half hour or so, they sifted through photos and video. She was right, they’d recorded hints of their paint-covered sexcapades. She flushed when the bare skin showed on screen, and quickly shut it down.
She didn’t delete the footage, though.
What were the odds he could get a copy of that? Or recreate the moment. Fuck. Talk about an ultimate memory. Today was going to be seared into his skull for eternity. Desire wrapped in passion and sprinkled with longing for the forbidden.
He needed to cut the sex out now. He shouldn’t have dipped into that temptation to begin with.
It wasn’t that he wanted to. Ivy probably didn’t want it to end either. But it was best for both of them.
Or I could tell her the truth and let her make up her own mind.
“All right. Entry submitted.” Her words jarred him back to the now. She was watching him with bright eyes, a perfect, flushed lip caught between her teeth.
Telling her wasn’t an option. He’d rather keep her at arm’s length than lose her completely.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ivy couldn’t ignore the way Miles was watching her. How had she never seen that before? The desire. The adoration. It reflected her own.
Seeking More Page 4