“Of course. This is just for fun. I’ll do it any way that you want it.”
He beams. “Great! I’d like to be nude.”
I’m shocked as I stare at him, but as I see the sparkle in his eyes, I know that I walked right into that.
“That was a trap!” I roll my eyes. “You set me up.”
He shrugs and looks very proud of himself.
“I’m sorry that you’re not more street-wise,” he says, and I can tell that he’s not sorry at all. “But you already agreed to it. So, I guess you’ll be painting me nude.” He narrows his eyes. “Why? Does that bother you? Are you worried that you won’t be able to control yourself as you gaze upon my sexiness?”
He waggles his eyebrows now and I giggle.
“Oh, I’ll try hard to manage,” I tell him. But quite honestly, it might be a feat. I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this.
I gulp a big breath of air and glance around, trying to calm my quaking nerves.
“We’d better take this into my studio in the back. I don’t think you want to be naked in front of the windows. Or maybe you do, you exhibitionist freak.”
I laugh, remembering that he has entire walls of windows at his house which doesn’t deter him from walking around naked. Then I remember watching him get a blowjob through one of those windows and it sobers me up. My cheeks flush and Pax looks at me.
“What’s wrong? Does the fact that I’m a freak bother you?”
He’s still kidding and has no idea that I have a picture of he and Jill firmly implanted into my head. I shake my head, trying to shake the image away.
“Of course not,” I joke back. “I like it.”
I turn my heel on his shocked expression and lead the way to my private studio. As I walk in, I inhale the familiar smell… of oil paint, acrylic and wood floors. I turn to Pax.
“I give private lessons in here and this is where I do my own work.”
He looks around appreciatively. “It’s perfect. I can see you in here, working away.”
He points at a painting hanging on the wall, one of a woman with her head bowed. It’s fairly abstract and you can’t see the details of the woman’s face. No one would know that it’s my sister, and her head is bowed because she’s crying at my parents’ funeral. That particular moment imprinted on my heart and I knew I had to paint it. The painting hangs in here, in my private studio, because it’s too personal to be sold.
“Is that Madison?” Pax asks curiously. I stare at him in surprise.
“How could you possibly know that?” I ask. “It’s so vague.”
He walks over to examine it. “Well, I can see that the features are delicate, like hers. Her hair is blonde and there’s just something haunting and personal about it. I figured it had to be Madison. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He runs his finger along the bottom edge of the frame, still examining it.
“She’s crying, isn’t she?” he muses. I nod.
“Yes.”
He turns to me. “You’ve been hurt in life, Mila. I know that. And I swear to you, on everything that is sacred to me, that I will try not to hurt you, too.”
I stare at him as I pull out a smock.
“On everything that you consider sacred?” I’m trying to joke now, to pull us out of this serious conversation. I’m just not in the mood for deep right now. “What exactly do you consider sacred? Jack Daniels?” I laugh, and he finally laughs too, allowing me to lead this conversation elsewhere. I’m silently grateful.
“I’ll have you know, Miss Smarty Pants, that Jack has gotten me through some hard times. And thankfully, I’m not giving him up yet. So, yes. Maybe Jack Daniels is sacred to me.”
He grins at me cockily, daring me to say something. So I raise an eyebrow.
“You can drop trow now.”
His jaw practically drops instead.
“Drop trow?”
His shock makes me giggle. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted a nude picture, you freak. In order for me to do that, you’re going to have to drop your trousers.”
Pax regains his composure and smiles charmingly.
“Well, if you think you can control yourself.”
He unfastens his jeans and lets them drop to his ankles. He steps out of them, then his underwear follow. I fight the urge to look. He grins.
“Oh, you know you want to,” he teases, as he pulls off his shirt. “Go ahead. Take a peek. You’re going to have to eventually anyway.”
I swallow hard as I stare at his chest. He’s got a tattoo on each pec, and one on each bicep. I notice that he’s also got words on his right side. All of it is perfectly show-cased by his amazingly sculpted body. Holy hell.
I fight not to look below his waist. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction right now and he’s certainly waiting. I smile.
“All in good time, Mr. Tate. Why don’t you go up there and stand under the light?”