Brooke shook her head. “It’s not just you. It’s Mom, Will, and Shane. Michael’s art doesn’t really show anything. He just brags about his sex life all the time. You’d think Carrie was the only woman he’d ever slept with. And it’s not that I think poorly of your art. I just don’t understand every artist’s fascination with the subject of sex.”
Drake grinned. “I could show you in about two minutes how to make a philosopher fascinated with sex. Then maybe you’d organically understand, and we could be spared this painful conversation.”
“No thank you. This conversation is way overdue. What we have between us is our personal magic—not something I plan to announce to the world, let alone be discussed. Growing up as Jessica Daniel’s daughter, there was no choice but to discuss a glass vagina, no matter how embarrassed I felt about what it was. Don’t get me started about how hard it was to hear Mom talk with people about her rape art…in fact it still is. I hate to hear her reliving it over and over.”
Drake leaned back in his chair. He was glad to learn that part of Brooke’s problem with his work was really about her mother. He had hated thinking it was just his art.
“Glass vaginas don’t seem very intimidating to me. They’re nearly as innocuous as glass birds or ornaments or whatever. An average Joe could pick one up and not readily even recognize what it was unless he was a sensual person. However—I can absolutely see how talking about your mother’s rape art would have been very challenging since you survived the incident with her. You were part of the inspiration for it. I can see how it would disturb you.”
“Well, it’s not like I remember the details of what happened, but it was my life as well as hers she was portraying in those sculptures.”
Drake nodded. “I’m sure it’s been challenging for my son to see his mother’s nude body so often in my portraits. In my defense, I can say with certainty that Brandon knows I had a true passion for the woman who bore him. He knows I loved his mother, and doesn’t have to just guess it was true just because we were married. I suppose I could have locked all that strong emotion up and never shown how I felt to the world, but I think I would have imploded. His grief therapist certainly suggested I hide my art from him, but I totally ignored the man’s advice. Brandon has turned out okay knowing my truth.”
“Yes. I would definitely agree with that point,” Brooke said softly.
“So how has the daughter of Jessica Daniels turned out?”
Brooke shrugged and ignored his piercing gaze. “I love my mother. I also think she’s the boldest, bravest female I’ve ever known. I don’t have to understand why Mom creates what she creates. I also don’t have to approve of every small detail of her life to respect her choices. But if you want to know if I’m still embarrassed by her work…the answer is I’m embarrassed about it all the time. She knows this. Like you and Brandon, Mom and I have a lot of truth between us, too.”
“You’re never going to let me paint you in all your glorious beauty, are you?” Drake asked, frowning into his glass.
Brooke snorted and shook her head. “God, I can’t wait to tell my mother I was right about your offer the first day we met. You know Drake, I might have considered letting you paint me if you were like Picasso or one of the other abstract artists. No one would even recognize it was me. But your work is very realistic. Frankly, I don’t want strangers looking at my nude body and speculating about my physical flaws via your art. I’m not as perfect as the model you were using for your class that day I visited. I may be younger than you, but I’m way older than her.”
“Oh yes, back to the model in my class. We need to discuss her specifically. Okay, so here it is. I could close my eyes right now and draw her in great detail, except for her face. I do not know her as a person, nor do I long to know her more than I already do. She is line and curve and angle to me. She is skin and muscle and bone. She is woman incarnate…but she is not the woman my soul seeks to know. Neither is my deceased wife any longer. Tracy is memory and loss and was the beginning of some poetry I will never finish writing. But painting Tracy over and over has kept me hopeful about the best of life’s possibilities. When you came along, all I believed possible suddenly became my reality. Your youth is your only flaw as far I’m concerned. I don’t know if I can share it with you without cheating you out of a better life with someone your own age.”
The doorbell rang and startled her. Her stare never left Drake as she rose.
Finally, she shook off enough of the poetic stupor he’d caused to retrieve the money for the pizza from her wallet. She turned to find Drake opening the door and smiling at the boy who shoved the fragrant box toward him. He took it just as she appeared at his side with cash in hand.
“Thank you. I don’t need any change. Have a good evening.”
The boy smiled, thanked her, and trotted off down the hall. She closed the door and turned to see Drake arranging the pizza box on the table.
“Drake—I hear all your beautiful words—but I still don’t understand. I’m not an artist. All I saw that day in your class was a twenty-year-old with perfect breasts whose nipples were pointed at your chin.”
“Fair enough…I suppose. But I hate the idea that my work might keep us apart. I’d rather it be for something less heart wrenching, like the fact you’re ultra-conservative in your politics and financial outlook.”
“Sorry, but I’m a liberal…in most things…just not with men evidently. The problem I have with you really is about the other naked women in your life. I bet you get to ogle a different one every time you teach that damn course.”
Drake chuckled, sighed, and finally nodded. “Okay, Dr. Daniels. It is true that I use a variety of nude models. You’re ahead in this debate for now, but I reserve the right to keep trying to change your mind. Now come eat. Tonight we’re going to actually finish a meal together if it kills me. Then I’m going home so you can get your work done.”
Brooke went to the kitchen, retrieved a couple plates, and walked back to Drake. She handed both over and watched him deftly scoop a large slice for her from the box. Being a more typical male than he sounded, Drake put two on his plate and settled back on the couch. She grinned to see that underneath the poetry, the romance-cover hair, and the sexiest male mouth she’d ever kissed was a person nearly as normal as she was.
Holding her plate away, she leaned toward him until he finally took the hint and leaned forward to kiss her softly.
“Not understanding your art doesn’t mean I don’t like you, Drake.”
“Really? You like me?”
His boyish joy over her statement made him look as young as Brandon.
“Yes…a little,” Brooke admitted, taking a bite out of her pizza. She pretended not to notice the relief flashing through his gaze. Seeing it made butterflies flutter around the bite of pizza she swallowed.
“Good—because I really like you back—even if you are an art critic.”
Picking up his pizza, Drake ate the first piece, letting the quiet between them soothe him. Brooke got angry easy, but she seemed to let go of her ire just as fast. It was a relief to learn that she didn’t hold grudges.
“I’m not an art critic. You can’t criticize what you don’t understand. I just don’t get it. I’m sure lots of people don’t get it.”
Drake made a grunting sound that he could see Brooke took for agreement. She was not an easy woman, but she was an interesting one. He studied her while he chewed, still liking what he saw despite their opposing viewpoints on some things. It was a good thing too, because lust was great, but not enough. He wanted to spend hours and hours with Brooke. He wanted them to be real lovers, not just bed partners.
“Okay, I have a confession. There was a reason I asked you that sex question even when I was drunk. I’ve been thinking about having the kind of sex life with you that I haven’t had in a long time. You can’t practice navatantra with a short-term partner. I haven’t had any partners other than short-term ones since Tracy died.”
&nb
sp; Brooke nodded politely and focused hard on her food. If she didn’t, her mouth might drop open at what he was saying. “I’ve never had any partners other than short-term ones either,” she heard herself admitting.
Drake laughed. “I’m not saying that to win points with you. I’m explaining. The lust thing between us would have to die down a bit before you and I could practice. Navatantra requires male endurance which translates into me not being so needy. But I’m open to it if you are, and I hope you give it some thought.”
Brooke giggled. “Drake? Are you offering me Tantric sex?”
Drake finished his second piece and met her gaze. “What I’m actually offering is a long-term relationship in which we could eventually practice a kind of sex that might create an amazing spiritual connection between us.”
Brooke sighed as her insides melted. Drunk or sober, Drake was poetic. He could probably talk her into an orgasm without ever laying a hand on her. Maybe they could try that too.
“Well, I think it’s going to be a long while before we can try anything requiring patience and endurance. You’re not the only needy one. Tonight I’m feeling needy myself—very, very needy. I think it’s your hair.”
“My hair?” Drake snorted when she nodded. “If I stay, you won’t get any grading done.”
“Sure I will. But don’t worry—I’m sure you’ll pass all my tests.”
Drake laughed at her flirting. “And I’m sure I’ll get an A because I’m an overachiever.”
“You may be bragging too soon. Students say I’m hard.”
She laughed when Drake caught hold of her hand and unceremoniously dragged it into his lap while he continued to eat. He pressed her palm to his crotch.
“I can be hard too,” he whispered around a bite of pizza.
Brooke snorted. “Lame, Dr. Barrymore—true or not.”
“Oh, it’s true, Dr. Daniels. I can prove it anytime you want.”
As she laughed harder, Drake put her now empty plate on the coffee table and dragged the rest of her into his lap. He moved her around until she was seated where he wanted. She felt Drake stirring beneath her thigh, but he leaned forward and snagged another slice of pizza from the box like nothing was happening. She giggled and took advantage when he offered her the first bite. After she swallowed the pizza, she bent her mouth to his neck, reveling in the groan she conjured from him with her actions.
“You taste better than pizza. I didn’t get enough of you before. I didn’t get to do any kissing at all. When do I get a turn to be the seducer?”
Drake tossed his half-finished slice back into the box and stood with her in his arms. Brooke laughed as he headed for her bedroom. It didn’t really surprise her that he could carry her after the way he’d casually tossed her on the bed at his house. His lean strength was surprising. She wasn’t extremely tall, but she wasn’t exactly petite either.
“Well, at least we had dinner together first. I wouldn’t want you to think I was completely easy,” Brooke whispered.
Drake carried Brooke to the bed and sat down still holding her. He wanted her, but he wanted her on better terms than before. “I will never, ever take being with you for granted. It’s not in my nature. I may be possessive and demanding and too intense at times, but you will never, ever go ignored. You’re all the dreams I’ve been having come to life. All I want is to enjoy you…if you’ll let me.”
Brooke sighed and put her mouth on his neck again. She kissed a path, then followed her lips with the edge of her tongue. She was almost disappointed by his politeness.
“If…? You didn’t ask for permission to enjoy me last time.”
Drake snaked a hand up under Brooke’s t-shirt and deftly unfastened her front-clasp bra. He used his other to grab the back of her head and steer her mouth to his. She squirmed in his lap when he cupped and squeezed the naked breast he uncovered. Her mouth opened on a gasp, which worked to his advantage. He speared inside with his tongue just once, and then withdrew to suck her bottom lip while he lightly pinched her nipple. He grinned when Brooke shuddered in his arms and whispered his name.
“Looks like I don’t have to ask tonight either, but it seems like a better idea to me. I prefer this second time to be a negotiation, rather than any kind of takeover. I want a lover, not just a bed partner. What do you want?”
Brooke couldn’t think clearly about anything with the man teasing her hardened nipple. “I want to make you feel like you’re making me feel. You can label that urge however you want.”
She squirmed her way free of his hands and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Staring at her with eyes half-closed, Drake moved his hands to the side as she worked through the buttons. When the last one was undone, he let her strip it from his arms.
Snickering at the simple white cotton undershirt he wore under it, she pulled it free from his waistband too. In familiar male clothing territory now, she pulled the t-shirt over his head in a single tug.
Despite having strength enough to carry her, Drake was definitely on the lean side body-wise. His muscles were smooth and contoured with not an ounce of extra padding anywhere. His chest was covered lightly with hair as soft as what fell to his shoulders. Smiling, she ran her hands over him and then through his hair. And all the while, he merely watched her.
“You’re being very patient,” she whispered.
“Just enjoying the moment,” he whispered back.
She slid from his lap to the floor and pulled off her own shirt. The bra he’d undone earlier fell unceremoniously from her arms to the floor. She looked down at her hard-nippled breasts and sighed as reality intruded on her moment. The potential of losing one or both of them was never far from her mind now that surgery was required.
Fortunately, Drake chose that moment to stand, which drew her attention back to the business at hand. He was without doubt the perfect distraction. She reached forward and pulled him closer by the waistband of his slacks. He wasn’t the first man she’d ever undressed, but she didn’t remember ever enjoying the uncovering process quite this much before. Drake’s gaze never wavered from hers. She couldn’t wait to get completely naked with him.
She shivered when he reached out and stroked the tip of one breast with a knuckle while she unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks.
“Do you know what makes you perfect for me? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not your breasts, even though they are quite beautiful.”
“I’ve already been seduced, Drake. You can stop the poetry now. All I want is you naked and as hard as I can make you.”
“Brooke, every breath you take is poetry to me,” Drake said, stepping from the clothes she’d pushed off his hips.
Before she could remove her own clothes, he started the process of pushing them down. He wanted to see the whole package and was just as tired of waiting as she was.
When all the barriers were gone, he took a moment to stop and take in the sight. Brooke was just as spectacular as he’d imagined.
“I can’t wait to touch every inch.”
He grinned when Brooke shook her head without dropping her gaze.
“Oh no, you called all the shots last time. I want you to lay down and let me touch you until I get my fill. Then we’ll see what happens after that.”
She ran a hand down the front of him. When she found what she was looking for, she ducked her head to watch her hand grip tightly. Drake stumbled into her. It made her laugh, and she let go so she could catch him in her arms.
“I’m sorry. Did I squeeze too hard?”
“No,” he insisted, laughing at what almost happened. “It’s just been a while since I was touched by anyone other than myself.”
“Ah…an honest man. And that’s what makes you perfect for me,” Brooke said softly. “Lie down with me. I’m not nearly done with touching you.”
“Okay.”
Brooke decided her assertiveness must have been truly acceptable because Drake took her hand and tugged her to the bed with him. Soon he was flat on his back and she w
as kneeling over his body trying to decide what she wanted to do first. Her long hair fell in a curtain as she kissed his shoulders and moved down his chest. When she felt his heartbeat pounding fiercely against her lips, she raised her head.
She was panting and walking the edge as badly as he was. “I don’t know how you do this to me. It doesn’t seem to matter if you’re touching me or I’m touching you. I get excited either way.”
Drake lifted a hand to her hair. “Must be that magic we make together.”
“Must be,” Brooke whispered back, lowering her body to his as she bent to kiss him more fully.
In the midst of her mind spinning out of control again, Drake was suddenly all kisses and strokes and sexy whispers of praise. Doing her best to ignore the growing tension, she groped the nightstand, trying to reach the drawer. Drake paused his kissing, reached over, and pulled it out for her. Reaching into it, he quickly found what she had been looking for and laid the packet in the middle of her chest as he kissed his way around it.
“Who’s doing the honors?” he asked.
“Me,” Brooke volunteered, choking on the answer as Drake’s teeth nipped and tugged on her flesh.
“Warm it in your hands first. It will be better for both of us,” he whispered.
To help, he lifted both her hands over her head and put the condom wrapper between them before pressing them together. “There. You do that. I have other things to attend to.”
With the packet caught between her palms, Brooke pressed them together. Drake’s mouth closed over a rigid nipple. His fingers slid between her legs and stroked her thighs.
“Oh God…I can’t handle much of that. I’m too far gone. Please… I want you inside me.”
She brought the warmed-up condom down and tore it open with shaking hands while Drake shook his head against her breast. Instead of slipping inside though, his fingers lightly grazed everything between her legs. She was shaking hard by the time he finally lifted his mouth.
Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series Page 11