Chapter Fifteen
Greer turned off her cell phone. It was seven fifteen, and she hadn’t called her mother as requested. Nor was she going to.
The canvas in front of her was blank save for some light lines she’d sketched in pencil. The design she’d drawn out early today sat beside her, and she kept referencing it. But she was hesitant to paint the design. Her sketch looked amazing, but what if she couldn’t do it justice on canvas? It felt important, what she was trying to do. And it was personal. No way did she want to screw it up.
The tap of rain fell on her roof. The sky had darkened early, casting a gray glow everywhere. She’d turned on two floor lamps beside her easel, and the soft golden light mixed with the sound of rain was good for her soul.
This was her happy place. This tiny extra bedroom, filled with paints and canvas and brushes. Her mind cleared in here. No matter her stress level, no matter how heavy her thoughts, sitting on her grandmother’s old cushioned bench in front of her easel made it better.
Just staring at a blank canvas had always been therapeutic, and tonight was no different.
She forgot about her mother and the frilly pink dress. She forgot about Coss and his epic assholery. She forgot about the supposed written violation she was going to face. She wiped it all away, except for the face staring back at her in barely visible sketch lines.
She didn’t need the lines to see the face clearly in her mind’s eye. It was one she could call up in the blink of an eye, with perfect clarity.
The wide blue eyes with lashes too pretty for a man. Damn him. The straight nose with a blunt tip. The angled jaw that gave his rugged face its character.
The lips she wanted on her body.
She hadn’t seen Luke after his interview this afternoon. He hadn’t called or texted to let her know how it had gone. She didn’t want to bother him in case it hadn’t gone well—though she couldn’t imagine it going badly. He was a natural leader. Smart and fair. He might be young, but the city board would be remiss not to seriously consider him for the position.
Between the candidates Luke was the clear leader. And she didn’t think that simply because he was her friend. Well, maybe she was a tad biased. She recalled what he’d said, about her being a liability to his chance for the job. Coss’s threat was real. What if he’d said something to the board that they’d take seriously?
If so, she really was a liability to him. She’d never want to interfere with his ability to move up the ladder. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t done much to control his desire for her, either. They were a liability to each other, but…was it worth it?
Time would tell.
She had something to fall back on, a lucrative job offer that was basically waiting on her to accept or deny. If they were caught and fired, what did he have to fall back on? Being a mechanic like his dad? Delivering vehicle parts all over the country?
Paramedicine was Luke’s life. It was his passion. And she was continually threatening that.
She frowned and put her brush down. Damn it, there went her clear head. She reached for the wineglass on the table beside her and took a sip. Cocking her head, she studied her artwork. An idea popped into her head, and she transferred the wineglass to her left hand. Picking up the pencil, she started faintly sketching again.
Absorbed in what she was doing, she was barely aware she’d finished her wine. Setting aside the empty glass, she kept working. The tempo of rainfall picked up as a torrent beat the roof.
“Got a towel?”
She shrieked, the pencil flying from her hand as she spun on the bench. Luke leaned against the doorframe, dripping wet, with a six-pack of beer in one hand, and a soaked fast food bag in the other. He had a lopsided grin and a brilliant gleam in his eyes.
“What the fuck? You scared me!”
“Yeah, well, your door was open. I could’ve been anyone. Jack the Ripper. The boogey man. Worse, Coss.”
His mood was infectious. She grinned and waved him in.
“Set that down and go get a towel. Why the hell are you wet?”
He disappeared into the bathroom and came back rubbing a towel over his hair. “I parked three blocks away and walked here. Just in case.”
Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, he whipped it over his head. She groaned—she couldn’t help it—as his impressive abs were bared for her view. She had to focus. They had to cool it. Greer turned back to her canvas, immediately disappointed to lose the view of his gorgeous body.
“How’d the second interview go?”
There was some rustling behind her, and then the hot, firm feel of his hands on her shoulders. She held her breath as Luke moved in behind her, putting one leg over the bench and then the other until he was sitting behind her. The seat was wide enough for them both, but the way he sat pressed her ass firmly between his thighs.
She could barely draw in a breath as he pulled her hair over her shoulder, baring her neck. His breath heated her skin beneath her ear.
“It was amazing. I’ll hear in a few days.”
Her mouth was dry. Wetting her lips, she closed her eyes as he pressed a small kiss below her jaw. His chest pressed against her back, his warmth and dampness seeping through her tank top.
“Do you know what this opportunity could do for us?”
He lightly stroked the length of her hair with his left hand as his lips cruised her neck. She shuddered against the deep pull of pleasure welling to every surface of her body.
“What do you mean, us?”
His free hand slid down her arm and looped around to whisk over her breast. She shuddered harder this time, her nipples peaking just like that. She shouldn’t—but she cupped his hand with her own and directed him to her breast again. His fingers closed around the soft mound as he made a slow circle with his palm over her nipple.
“Us, Greer. There’s always been an us, just waiting, biding its time.”
A flicker of joy jumped to life in her chest, but her mind was too clouded with sexual need to pay much attention. Luke nibbled and kissed her neck and the curve of her shoulder while he kneaded and cupped her breast. “Maybe it’s time. Right now. Time for an us.”
“How?” she whispered breathlessly. Even through the fog, she knew it was impossible for there to be a relationship between them, not while they kept their jobs.
He didn’t answer. He tugged her tank top and yanked it over her head. She was extra glad she hadn’t put on a bra as he urged her to stand. She did, and he spun her. His mouth went into a serious line—the kind a man gets when he’s horny as hell and trying to control it.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He ran a finger along the waist of her shorts. “Your skin is perfect. Like a fucking canvas.”
Something caught his attention, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him to see what it was.
“Close your eyes.”
She did. Something cold and wet touched between her breasts and streaked slowly down, circling her right breast. Something brushed over her nipple, making her jerk. The sensation was unique and exquisite. The coolness of it, the firm, feathery pressure, brought a new pleasure that sent tingles wherever it touched.
“Look.”
She opened her eyes. Luke was staring intently at her breasts, a long paintbrush in his hand as he streaked green paint over her pale skin.
“You’re my perfect canvas.”
It was crazily erotic as he slowly drew the brush over her flesh, coloring her with a series of swirls and lines. An artist’s canvas was a personal, intimate foundation for expression, and he was making her his creation.
She tipped his chin up with her fingers until their eyes met. “Paint me. Make me yours.”
“Do you want to be mine? Is that what you really want?”
How did she answer that and even begin to express what was in her heart? “Yes, yes!”
He licked his lips. “Where do you want me to paint you?”
The sexy challenge in his tone deepened her need. She gripped the middle of the brush handle while it was still in his hand, and brought it to her other breast. He dipped the brush tip into the paint at her side and held her eyes while he colored her breast, taking his time to sweep languorously over her sensitive nipple.
“God, more.”
The brush left her skin and she immediately missed the feel of it.
He rewet the bristles with paint. “Where else, Greer? Where should I make you mine?”
Everywhere. She wanted him to claim her, heart and body. She brought her hands to the button of her cutoff jeans and worked it lose. The old denim fell to the floor, revealing her bare, freshly shaved pussy. With one finger, she directed the brush between her breasts and down…
He groaned as she pushed the brush lower. It left a thick trail of glossy green over her skin, down, down. He swirled the bristles around her belly button, making her smile. Then lower, to her mound.
“It’s yours,” she whispered.
“Fuck right, it is.” He swept the brush over her mons before tossing it back into the holder beside her. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. Uncaring about the paint, he kissed the top of her slit. She kicked away the shorts and widened her stance, gripping his hair and holding him to her. He kissed between her legs. She grabbed his shoulders and cried out. His palms cupped her ass and held her tightly for the delicious assault.
She wanted to place her feet wider, give him more room, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he worked his tongue around and up and down in the tight little space, hitting her sweet spot over and over with perfect rhythm.
“Luke!”
He made a deep sound, almost like a growl, and flicked his tongue at an epic pace. Greer threw her head back, the ends of her hair whipping against the canvas as the spiral of pleasure started. Hard.
And unraveled fast.
His fingers dug into her ass cheeks as she moved against him. She was vaguely aware of trying to rip the hair out of his scalp, but she forgot about hurting him and hung on as an orgasm burst through her. Her legs turned to mush, and she gripped him around the neck to keep herself steady. Her body wavered toward him.
He grabbed her leg and hitched her knee onto the bench. She sank against him, her paint-wet breasts pressing into his bare chest. He raised his hips and slid off his jeans, taking a moment to grab a condom from his wallet. Greer straddled him, watching with anticipation as he slid the condom on. Then, she gripped the base of his thick cock, appraising his sculpted chest as she guided him into her, two large circles of green on his pecs from her breasts.
And his chin, covered.
She giggled and sighed as he filled her up, and she ran her fingers through the paint on his chest. He wasn’t in a giggling mood as he gripped her hips and held her, driving up into her so powerfully she almost toppled backward.
“Stop moving,” he ground out. “Just let me have what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice riveted her. She grew still, her fingers loose around his neck. If she didn’t know better, she might think that he wanted more than sex. He’d been dropping hints, half-expressed emotions that seemed to be leading to something. The possessive way he played her body, the sensations that seemed to transfer from his skin to hers, encouraged her to cling to the same fantasy.
That Luke loved her. That he wanted her, always.
She forced her mind out of the fairy tale and hung on as he controlled everything—the depth, the pace, the angle of her hips. She pressed her cheek against his, swaying with the movement of his body, drowning in the feeling.
“I am yours,” she whispered against his ear.
His fingers dug into her lower back. A low groan welled up from his throat as his cock swelled.
She grinned and rocked her hips. Raising up on her knees, she slid down on him fast, hard. His head rolled back, eyes clenched. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him as he came.
She sank into him again, this time, her entire body felt boneless and slack. After a few moments, he loosened his grip, still holding her with loving, firm pressure, their chests rising and falling together.
Finally, he pulled back from her and took her face between his hands. She couldn’t help but smile at his sweat and paint-streaked face. He was still, as always, breathtaking.
“Take the job, Greer.”
“What job?”
His thumbs feathered over her cheeks. “The lawyer gig. Take it. It’ll change everything.”
What the hell was he talking about? He knew how she felt about going back into law. “Explain.”
His eyes searched her face, and she had the sinking feeling something either wonderful or terrible was about to come out of his mouth.
“I want you. I want you so badly. We can’t work together and be together, so you need to take that job.”
Her heart swelled and squeezed, equally thrilled and cautious. This was happening so fast, and she wanted to draw it out, enjoy it. Roll around on it. But there was a hesitation in his voice, as if there were something he wasn’t telling her.
“I want this to be a really happy moment. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that you want me.”
“I do want you.”
“But…what’s the catch?”
His brow furrowed, but the flicker in his eyes said she’d nailed it. Luke gently pushed her off him and pulled her into his embrace as he stood.
“I need the promotion to provide for you properly. I don’t want to just get by. I want to give you the life you deserve. Even so, we can’t have that and work together.”
She flexed her fingers into a fist and relaxed them. A little tremor went through her. Something was off here. This…this wasn’t the ecstatic declaration of love she’d always hoped for. Yes, she was a fucking romantic, but there was more beneath the surface here.
“You want me to decide between you and my medic job. Is that it?”
He made a face and smoothed back her hair. “Do you really love being a medic? It’s really what you want?”
Why did it always come back to this? She pushed away from him, suddenly aware of the paint drying and making her skin itch.
“I haven’t had enough time to really decide that. I’ve only been out of school six months. I don’t know what I want yet. You keep telling me the first five years are the hardest. But, I…I haven’t even got through half a year and I might lose the chance to see if I’m cut out for this.”
He put his palms out in a gesture of truce. “I just want what’s best for you.”
She put a hand to her chest, all the hope and happiness turning gray. “I know what’s best for me. Not you. Not my mother. Please, just let me figure it out.”
His lips were set as if he had more to say, but he shook it off. “Okay. Absolutely.” His hands smoothed over her upper arms. “You’re freezing. Let’s take a shower. I’ll scrub you up.”
She let him lead her to the shower. She let him position her under the water, and enjoyed the pleasure of his soapy hands on her body, in her hair. She let him wash away the paint.
But she wasn’t going to let him decide how her life turned out. For years she’d already quietly given him her love. The rest was her choice.
“Did you mean it?” She wiped droplets from his cheeks. “That you want more with me?”
Gripping her wrists, he slid his hands down her arms and around her. “Yes. But I want to be the man you need.”
Him and his pride. She was about to protest, but his lips pressed into hers. “You’re already that man,” she said between kisses.
“No, but I will be.”
“Luke,” she argued, but the determined set of his mouth stopped her. This was important to him, so it would be important to her, too.
“Do you want to work toward more with me?”
Work toward… So, if he didn’t get the promotion, did that mean they’d be back as normal? Just friends? He seemed to be forgetting that she had the education and skills to more than provide for them, if she began practicing law. If it meant having a future with him, maybe it wasn’t such a bad prospect.
“Yes, of course I do!”
His embrace tightened, holding her securely against his body, her face pressed against the beat of his heart.
Her chest swelled, her body pumping with a natural high. There was more promise for them right now than there had ever been. There were also decisions to make, things to figure out, but they’d do it together, while she helped him look past his pride to see he was already perfect for her, just the way he was.
But tonight she wanted to be wrapped in his arms and ride this high, if possible.
Luke wanted more, and nothing was going to make this crash and burn.