Painting Rainbows

by Kiera Jayne

  But Layla had a class to participate in. She would have to look at him at some point. She dared to peek at him again as he sat down and positioned himself in much the same way as he had last week. Like he was just a bloke chilling out on the couch. A hot, naked bloke with a smouldering gaze, whom Layla happened to be falling for.

  “Remember, everyone. Focus on the curvature of Grady's body,” Sue explained, breaking Layla's thoughts. “Try to get that definition of his muscles, his jaw. But make it your own. Let him be your guide.”

  Layla couldn't help meeting Grady's gaze at Sue’s last few words. He had guided her in more ways than one this last week and she had been wanting him one minute, then pushing him away the next. It wasn't fair. She needed to try to be nicer to him. How could she do that without getting in too deep?

  Layla didn’t realise she was gawking at him until Rosie tapped her shoulder, snapping the young woman out of it.

  As Grady sat there, trying to keep as still as possible for all of these budding artists, his line of sight fell back upon Layla. She was now making a concerted effort not to look at him directly for too long.

  He understood why.

  The attraction they felt for each other just about exploded when he stripped down. Her desire for him was obvious. Her flushed skin and erratic breathing were a dead giveaway. Her reaction seemed to bolster his confidence—something he needed for this job.

  She was sexy-cute her white top and short, blue and white skirt. It showed off her shapely legs and her pricked nipples. Her flushed cheeks added a sexy and modest glow to her.

  She could pretend all she wanted, but Grady knew when a woman was turned on. A few of the others were, too. But he didn't care about them. Only Layla.

  A stab of desire shot down his spine. Gritting his teeth, Grady tried not to squirm. He flexed the only part of him he could—his right hand, which he had conveniently hidden behind the chair.

  A groan sounded in the room.

  Oh shit. Way to stay professional.

  His balls were starting to feel heavy and he felt his cock pulse as he imagined driving himself into Layla’s body.

  Grady heard Eric snigger into his hand. What was the guy’s problem? The chuckles began to flow through the room like a Mexican wave.

  “Oh my God he's got a hard-on!” Taleesha shouted at the top of her voice.

  Grady started. When he looked down at his lap, sure enough, his cock was at full mast.

  “Oh, my!” Rosie gasped as Mrs. Pearce laughed.

  “It's all normal.”

  There came the sound of a crash as Layla fell off her stool and onto the floor. Her easel went with her as she tried to catch herself.

  Grady threw on his gown and leapt to his feet. By the time he reached her, the others were already clearing the things away from her.

  “Are you alright, sweetheart?” Rosie asked.

  Grady knelt in front of her and noticed how she kept her face hidden. “Hey. You're okay.” He touched her cheek, tried to get her to look at him, with minimal success. When he heard her shaky breath, Grady stroked his hand over her dark hair and cupped her cheek. “Layla.”

  Layla shook her head. “I think I-I should go.”

  Rosie looked at her with concern. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don't think so.” Layla got to her feet and gathered her things.

  “Oh, don’t go, dear!” Mrs. Pearce begged.

  “I agree. Stay,” Grady said.

  The longing in Layla's face when she looked up at him made Grady ache for her all over again and he felt his cock stiffen once more. He was so close to her, he'd kiss her right now if they were alone.

  Finally, Layla looked at the elderly lady. “Sorry, Mrs. Pearce. I'll see you next week.”

  Layla left the hall and Grady punched the air out of frustration.

  Layla stepped out of her shoes and set her things aside. She was so embarrassed about the way she and Grady had basically just eye-fucked each other in front of the entire art class. He had gotten hard just by looking at her. She had the same effect on him as he did on her.

  It scared her.

  The last time she had trusted a man, things exploded. She didn't want that to happen again.

  She was so caught up in her mind that the knock that sounded on the door startled her. As she tried to get her pulse back under control, Layla pulled the door open.

  Pulse. Through. The. Roof.

  There he stood in a half-zipped hoodie and his jeans and not much else. No shirt underneath and no belt on, as though he had dressed in a hurry. His dark eyes were darker than ever as his white-hot gaze drew her in.

  Layla stepped backwards. “Grady, what are you doing here?”

  Grady rested his hand on the door, pushing it open wider.

  “I’m sorry I bailed. I’m sorry that I made you worry about me, but—"

  One strong hand cupped the back of her head and the other found the small of her back as he pulled her into a searing kiss. Layla slowly wrapped her arms around Grady’s neck and he urged them backwards into the cottage, throwing the door closed behind them. They bumped into the small, gilded side table and a vase of hyacinths toppled over.

  Layla drew the zip down on Grady's hoodie as his tongue danced with hers and he let it slide down his arms to the carpeted floor. Her fingertips grazed his trim stomach as she got to work on his jeans. Layla gripped him and he groaned into her mouth.

  Grady reached under her dress and slid her knickers down her legs, then slipped his hand back up between her thighs. Layla's head lolled back and Grady grazed her throat with his teeth. Layla dug her fingernails into his shoulder as a wave of desire rolled through her. The growl Grady released into her ear made her shudder.

  Grady lifted Layla into his arms and carried her to the living room, where they sank onto the lounge.

  Layla pressed her lips to his again. When he responded and teased her lips open to deepen the kiss, all her thoughts disappeared until there was only him. His tongue entwined with hers as he pressed his body into hers and Layla's breathing grew heavier. Layla wrapped her arms around Grady's shoulders as he dropped kisses along her jawline.

  She rubbed herself along his shaft, begging for him. “I want you inside me.”

  Grady opened Layla's legs further and sunk into her, filling her up. “Holy fuck, you're beautiful.”

  He moved in her rapidly, relentlessly, allowing the pleasure to take control of them both.

  Layla squeezed his bum cheeks and felt him grow harder inside her. “Oh my God, yes. Grady!” she cried out over and over as her orgasm hit her. Grady didn't let up, prolonging her pleasure until her body shook.

  “Squeeze my cock, Layla,” Grady gritted out as he drove into her.

  He felt her tighten herself around him. The friction made him wild. He held onto her waist when she came again. Soon, Grady stiffened and a grunt escaped his lips as he found his release.

  Layla woke with a start as a warm throw was draped over her. She was shivering from the cold and realised she had dropped off to sleep on the mint green couch and that it was suddenly dark outside. Then she recognised the feeling of a body behind her. She felt fingers stroke through her tangled hair.

  Layla's mouth went dry. She rolled over and Grady gazed down at her. Her stomach flip-flopped at the slow smile that crossed his sexy, stubbly face.

  “Hey there, beautiful.”

  “Hi,” Layla whispered.

  The kiss Grady gave her was tender. It was a kiss that would make any woman fall for this confident, handsome man who was snuggling with her, and when he broke it off, she stared up at him with trepidation.

  “We-we just-Grady, did we—?”

  “Have crazy-wild sex? We sure did.” He grinned and kissed her again.

  Layla began to respond but pulled away before she could be drawn in too deeply. “It wasn't really that crazy-wild, was it?”

  Grady contemplated this idea. “We could definitely make it much crazier and much wilder.�
�� He laughed at the blush that crept across Layla's face. He nibbled her ear, eliciting an involuntary moan. “Care for a second round?”

  “I don’t know. I reckon I've kept you from your responsibilities long enough, Grady.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What responsibilities?”

  “Work.”

  “It's a Sunday night in Upper Telwick. The café’s shut.”

  “What about your sister? She's probably wondering where you are,” Layla countered.

  “Interesting fact: We’re both grown adults, Myra and me. We don't tend to keep tabs on each other.” Grady regarded Layla closely. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  Layla averted her line of sight. “No, no.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he taunted.

  Layla pecked him on the lips. “Positive.”

  Layla didn’t feel positive. She was a married woman who was allowing herself to be bedded by a man who wasn’t her husband. Didn’t that make her the same as Rick?

  Grady yanked Layla's leg over his hip and lowered himself over her. “Prove it.” He kissed her senseless as they went for a crazier, wilder second round.

  Here she was again, with yet another silly rainbow painting to add to her room of stupid rainbow paintings. Layla set the fruition of her freak-out from the other day against the wall.

  “Hey.”

  Layla spun around at the deep voice behind her. There Grady stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist. Layla tried to ignore how head-to-toe hot this man was.

  “Shower’s free.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “You could've joined me, you know.” Playfulness danced in his eyes. “Water conservation and all.”

  “That's a thing in England?” Layla couldn't believe her ears.

  “Sure, it is. Especially when shower sex is involved.”

  Layla shivered but felt her face grow warm.

  Grady chuckled. “God, I love it when you do that.” He drew her into his arms.

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Blush,” he murmured close to her lips.

  She grew even warmer and he laughed again. He butterfly-kissed her, then glanced at the room they stood in. Spotting the collection of paintings, Grady stepped around Layla.

  “What are all these?”

  “Oh, no, they're nothing,” Layla said, hastily trying to block his way.

  Grady ignored her and squatted down in front of the collection of paintings.

  “Grady—"

  “These are fantastic. Are they yours?”

  Layla dropped her gaze self-consciously. “Yep.”

  Grady sifted through them. “I like the theme.”

  Layla’s brows knitted together. “What theme?”

  “The rainbow theme.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “It's not a theme.”

  Grady looked up at her. “It’s not?”

  “No. I just tend to paint like that for some reason. Always with rainbow colours. Even that beautiful landscape there.” She indicated the half-done landscape of the English countryside. “Something that could have been a stunning, generic landscape, yet I still couldn't resist adding even the faintest rainbow.”

  Grady studied the painting and sure enough, there was a faint—though more realistic looking—rainbow. “Wow.”

  Layla huffed.

  Grady frowned up at her. “It's great, Layla. The rainbow makes the painting more interesting, more yours. The last thing you want to be is generic.”

  When she wouldn't look at him, Grady got back to his feet and moved back to her. “Are you ashamed of them?”

  “Yeah,” Layla mumbled.

  “Why? You have real talent.”

  “Yeah, and every time I try to utilise my talent, I end up painting rainbows. The reason I'm taking the art class is so I can try to do something different.”

  “And it's also the reason you didn't colour the sketch of the foxglove,” Grady realised. Grady squeezed Layla's hand. “Let's go for a bike ride. You and me, out into the countryside. We’ll take some of your art supplies and when you find something you want to paint or draw, we’ll stop and you can do it.”

  Layla hesitated. “Aren't you supposed to be at the café today?”

  “Myra won't mind if I take today off, if I let her know.”

  Layla and Grady stared each other down. Her, cautious and uncertain. Him, confident and charming.

  “Come on, what are you afraid of?”

  She was afraid of him. Of this. But she couldn't tell him that. She stood her ground as he moved closer to her, despite how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “I-I'll just have a shower,” she whispered.

  “Righto,” Grady replied, his voice all husky.

  “You should . . . ring your sister.”

  “That's the plan. Unless . . .”

  Layla's eyes widened. “Unless what?”

  Grady slid his fingers into Layla's dark hair and pulled her into a hot, deep kiss that made her see stars. “I need another shower. I think I missed a few spots last time.”

  Layla shook her head slightly. “Grady—"

  He cut her off with another passionate kiss and steered them towards the bathroom.

  The phone began to ring downstairs and Layla turned towards it. Why was it ringing this time?

  “Leave it,” Grady said, nibbling her neck.

  Layla leaned into him. “Okay.”

  He pulled back and she shed her pyjama top, exposing her breasts to him. A growl of satisfaction tumbled from his lips and he took her into his mouth.

  “Yes,” she whispered involuntarily.

  Grady chuckled triumphantly. Layla's fingers curled into his hair. She tried to push him down further.

  “What do you want?” He pressed a kiss to the spot between her breasts. When her mouth simply dropped open, he murmured, “Tell me.”

  “I want you to taste me,” Layla answered.

  He knelt down and placed a simple kiss on her pussy, through the material of the matching pyjama pants.

  “Right there,” she sighed.

  Ever so slowly, Grady dragged Layla's pyjama bottoms down her legs. He guided her out of them, then hooked her leg over his shoulder. Layla held onto him as he slid his tongue into her. Layla's leg shook, almost making her tumble over. With a laugh, Grady circled his arm around her back to keep her steady. He lifted her second leg onto his shoulders and she yelped.

  “Grady!”

  “Hold on tight, gorgeous.”

  He carried her like that, on his shoulders, against his face, all the way to her bed. He tossed her down and she laughed. The laugh turned into a moan as Grady got back to it. Layla's legs fell back against the bed. She arched into him and he reached up to squeeze one of her breasts.

  Layla moaned loudly and began to writhe.

  Grady moaned into her and alternated between teasing her clit and tickling her pussy lips. He squeezed her breast as she climaxed, then crept up her body, dropping kisses onto her skin as he went.

  Layla cupped his face in her hands and whispered, “This isn't the shower.”

  Grady chuckled and peppered kisses across her skin. “No, this is what one might call a detour.”

  The phone downstairs began to ring again and the two of them groaned.

  “I should go and get that,” Layla said.

  “You should leave it,” Grady countered.

  “I can't. Only my parents know this number. If they're ringing this incessantly, it must be important.” Layla pushed Grady off her and threw on her oversized jumper as she rushed downstairs.

  Grady got to his feet and pulled on his jeans, then crept out into the hallway. He listened to Layla answer the telephone.

  “How did you get this number?”

  Grady frowned at Layla's worried tone. He stood at the top of the stairs as he continued to dress, unable to resist eavesdropping.

  “
I told you not to call me,” Layla continued. “I don't care what you have to say!” She was silent and Grady saw her nibble her bottom lip in frustration. “Because it's over. Stop trying to convince me otherwise. What you did is unforgivable, Rick, so just drop it, would you?”

  Who the hell was Rick?

  “I have to go, alright? Goodbye!” He heard her slam the phone back onto its cradle.

  Deciding it was now safe enough to show his face, Grady descended the stairwell and wandered into the living room. There was no mistaking the fear in Layla's eyes, although she quickly made a decent effort to cover it up.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Sure,” Grady responded.

  “I don't have much. Just toast and cereal. Nothing fancy.”

  He brushed his fingers over the retro phone, cursing the fact that these older style telephones didn't hold information from the previous call like their modern counterparts did.

  Layla reappeared in the doorway. “Grady? Cereal or toast?”

  Whichever one takes the longest. “Toast, please.”

  “Okay.”

  Grady watched as Layla set to work. She was like a busy little bee in this kitchen. She moved around quickly and with ease and when she smiled at him, it was her brightest, most cheerful smile.

  It was too cheerful. It was like she was overcompensating. Whoever had been on the other end of that telephone call had rattled her and she was trying her hardest not to let it show.

  Grady knew he should simply ignore it and be cheerful with her. But Grady being Grady, couldn't leave well enough alone. “Is everything alright?”

  “Mm-hm,” Layla replied as she set out a couple of plates and butter knives.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  Layla's step faltered and for a millisecond, the fear shot back into her fern-green eyes. “No one important.”

  Which meant it was someone extremely important.

  “It sounded heated.”

  She waved her hand as she turned her back to him. “It was nothing. What do you have on your toast?” she asked as she opened the pantry.

  Grady cornered her. “If it was something, you know you could talk to me about it, right?”