“But I thought—”
“Oh, you thought right.” Adam’s hand went to her waist, sliding down over her panties and up to cup her through her bra. “But tonight I want to paint my own lingerie on you, and I don’t want to ruin those.”
Unwilling to ruin anything that this moment was offering, Harper unclasped her bra and let it fall, then slowly slid her undies to the floor. No bold clothes or lace left to hide behind, Harper straightened to face him, and the hungry way his gaze gobbled her up was heady.
Erotic.
Harper stood there, waiting for him to say more, make a move, anything to give a clue as to what he wanted her to do. For as many bodies as she’d painted and people she’d photographed, Harper had never been the subject of anyone’s work. And when Adam was in work mode, she was learning, he was focused, intense, and all in. Which made her heart feel as if it were going to explode right out of her chest.
“Have you ever painted before?” she managed.
“No. But I’m a fast learner.” He crooked his finger at her in that come-hither way that had her knees wobbling.
She managed the final steps, and then she was in front of him, the anticipation so consuming she could feel the coolness of the paint on her skin. Gliding over her body—all of her body.
“Do I have to paint a thing or a pattern, or can I just paint what I see?” he asked.
“And what you feel. There is no right or wrong.” It wouldn’t matter anyway. In the end, she would be able to tell how he really felt. Was he reeling her in for more benefits, or was Shay right, and he was hoping for more?
He dipped the brush back in the yellow and brought it up to her breast again. He did it slowly, giving himself time to think, and her time to move away if she chose. She chose to move closer instead, and lean into the brush.
The rough bristles touched her sensitive peak, the chill of the paint oddly erotic on her heated skin. He dragged the brush around her breast, and she moaned at the sensation, prickly and smooth, thoughtful yet bold. He finished with one breast and moved on to the other, painting it the same bright yellow, then connecting it with a band of orange.
The brush stopped and his forehead crinkled above his brows. “What I feel, right?”
She nodded and he smiled and dropped the brush. He squeezed different shades of orange and pink and red into a paper plate, until it looked like a brilliant swirl of colors.
“Good, because I like to feel my subject out.” Flattening his palms in the paint, Harper watched it push up through his fingers. One had orange the other pink. “And I feel I am much better with my hands than a brush.”
A fact she knew well.
Settling one hand low on her waist, he pulled her into him. “Do you know what I was going to paint you as?”
“No.”
He met her gaze. “A summer sunrise. Bright and warm and something people wake up to catch a glimpse of.”
Her breath caught, and a warm glow started in her chest and radiated out at his words. “That’s how you see me?”
“That’s how the world sees you, Harper. I’m just lucky enough to finally be in that world.”
Without another word, not that there were any that could follow that up, Adam brought his other hand up to cup her neck, then drew her in for a kiss. It was slow at first, gentle and coaxing as if he were reeling her in. Then she sank her fingers into his shoulders, letting him know that she was holding on for the ride, and things got real hot, real quick.
Their mouths slid together. His fingers, slick with paint, traced down her spine and over her curves, leaving a trail of heat and colors as he went.
Harper lost herself in the sensation of being seen, of being exposed for the art and cherished as a woman. She lost herself in Adam.
When was the last time she’d allowed herself to get lost in a man? Fully and completely?
Never.
She’d never gotten so lost that she couldn’t find footing. But with Adam holding her as if he couldn’t get enough, her whole world shifted, and the last thing she was worried about losing was her footing. Her heart was right there, ready to find its home.
“Sunshine,” he said against her lips. “You taste like sunshine.”
She didn’t know what it was about that statement, but the way he said it, the things his tone implied, stirred something inside of her. Started a chain of reactions that she was helpless to stop. Emotions and realizations that she didn’t want to stop.
Adam’s hands disappeared and she groaned at the lack of connection, but then they were back, with new paint and new direction. His hands came up to hold her breasts, weigh them, mixing the paint until it resembled the colors of a sunrise. She arched back, giving him all the room he needed to create—feel.