David had never fought an erection while brushing his teeth. If anyone had asked him before that morning, he probably wouldn’t have considered such an experience likely for a man like him. Not given his age, and not given the decidedly unsexy nature of removing plaque from his molars.

But here he was, his mouth full of suds, trying not to prod Jenny’s powder room vanity with his dick, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

He and Jenny had slept. They’d eaten. They’d turned off their continually ringing phones and ignored the dozens of urgent texts and e-mails they’d received. They’d groomed. And soon they were going to strip down and return to those soft, cool sheets of hers.

This was the best morning of his life.

He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth, half-dazed with the thought of tugging her beneath him, pushing her thighs wide, circling her clit with his tongue, and finding out what sounds she’d make when she came around his—

Fuck. Brushing his teeth should not be turning him on like this.

Before he left the bathroom, he tried to get himself under control, but there was no containing his excitement. Not with the woman of his dreams so close and so willing. He’d just have to live with the slight embarrassment of approaching her while wearing only a tee and a pair of boxer-briefs tented by his state of advanced arousal.

But she wasn’t in the bedroom when he looked inside there, and the master bathroom door was open. She wasn’t in there either, or in the kitchen.

Finally, he found her in the guest room. Which, he could now see, she’d converted into a makeshift studio, complete with tarps and an easel and canvases and cups of colorful paint scattered everywhere. Exactly what he’d have expected, with one important exception: the inadequate light filtering through the lone window.

Even that minimal illumination, though, was enough to ascertain that she was wearing nothing but one of those thin, white tank tops of hers and a pair of boy shorts. No bra, God help him. No pants. She was all slim legs, smooth skin, dark, tight nipples and a small, round butt.

Jesus, she was perfect.

She was also talking to him, and he really should be paying attention.

“—not finished, but I got further last night before you arrived. Do you want to see it?” She scrunched her face to one side. “I hope you like it.”

A pinpoint of clarity appeared in his muddled brain. His portrait. She’d made progress on the painting of him sprawled on the hotel couch.

He walked toward her, skirting the edge of the easel. “Of course I want to see it.”

Among the many things he wanted to see right now, maybe the painting wouldn’t have made the top five, but he was definitely eager to see how she viewed him, how her artist’s eye translated humdrum reality into a kaleidoscope of color and life.

For a moment, she blocked his view of it with her body. “If you hate it, my feelings won’t be hurt.” She paused. “Well, they might be hurt, but you shouldn’t lie to save them.” Another pause. “I take that back. Lie to me, as necessary.”

He clasped her shoulders in his hands and moved her aside gently. And then forgot all about the insistent throbbing beneath his boxer-briefs as he took in what she’d accomplished in such a short span of time.

“No lies necessary. This is magnificent, Jenny.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his side. “It’s me, but…” Shaking his head, he tried to articulate what he was seeing. “How did you transform me into something so vibrant?”

In the unfinished portrait, he was lying on a couch, his head propped on his hand, his elbow digging into the cushion beneath him. He was staring at the viewer with a hint of humor quirking his lips, his glasses slightly askew, one knee propped high against the back of the sofa while the other stretched along the length of the cushions.

And the image of him exploded with color. Gold glinting from his skin, blue from the twists in his hair. A hint of pink around his mouth, and so many other shades of green and orange and even purple. He could see each stroke of the brush, how the colors acted as a kind of mosaic to create him and the couch and the room.

She deserved an audience for this sort of talent. She deserved adulation.

“I’ve told you before, David. No matter what you believe, you’re not neutral.” She shrugged, her breast moving against his ribs in an extremely pleasant way. “The rest is just color theory in action.” When she rubbed against him again, this time more slowly, her breath hitched. “And I have to tell you, you’re the most inspiring model I’ve ever used.”

His attention strayed from the canvas. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She moved until they stood facing one another. “And I have a hot scoop for you, Ace.”

He groaned, even as he looped his arms around her hips. “Oh, Lord. Please, no newspaper puns.”

“Too late.” She grinned up at him, those pale blue eyes bright. “You inspired me with all your dirty decathlon jokes last night. So if you didn’t want me to regale you with terrible reporter puns, you should have fucked me first thing this morning, before I had a chance to come up with any.”

That wide, innocent-looking mouth uttering the word fuck undid him. Completely. With another groan, this one not pun-induced, he put his hands on her ass and boosted her up, until she could wrap her legs around his hips and he could slam his mouth onto hers.

Without delay, he staggered toward her bedroom as her fingers slid into his hair and her tongue slid into his mouth. Once inside the room, he dropped her onto the mattress but didn’t follow her down. Instead, standing by the bed and admiring the view of her sprawled across it, he stripped off his tee and tugged down his boxer-briefs.

She was watching him the whole time, her lips parted and wet. And when he crawled naked onto the edge of the mattress, her hands strayed to the hem of her tank top.

“I never got to tell you my hot scoop.” She whipped the top over her head, and her small breasts bounced as she settled back on the mattress. “Extra, extra. Read all about it.”

Hitching his thumbs into her boy shorts, he whisked them down her legs and off the end of the bed. “What’s your story?”

He started at her ankles, skimming his knuckles all the way up the sides of her legs and over her hips, until he nudged the sides of her breasts. Her legs shifted apart at the contact, and she gave a small sigh. Then another as he settled his hands over those pale mounds and rubbed his cheek lightly over the soft curve of one, abrading her with his stubble.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He did want to excite her.

Before he could do more, her hand slid down over his belly. And before he realized what was happening, she was suddenly gripping his cock, pumping him as he gasped and shook.

“I’m tired of waiting.” She played with the wetness at his tip, using it to slick her movements. “I want your column inside me as part of the morning edition.”

Fuck, that felt incredible. Too incredible.

“I think that can be arranged.” But not if she kept stroking him like that. So he took her hands and raised them over her head, until they were touching the wall behind the bed. “Keep those there.”

She laughed, the sound light and breathy. “I like the sound of that lede.”

His thumbs rubbed across her nipples, then plucked lightly until they were tight, rosy points. And again, harder, until her hips rocked and she urged his head where she wanted it.

When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, she moaned and arched beneath him. Her legs spread wider, until he was resting between them, his cock pressed against her thigh. Oh, Jesus, so close to the heat and dampness he could feel against his belly.

He needed to protect them both before he lost control.

She rubbed his back while he donned the condom. Her hands strayed down to his ass, and she gave it a tight squeeze. And then he was through taking it slow.

He settled on his side next to her and slid his fingers into the light brown curls between her legs. Parting her, he began to explore her soft, sweet pussy, circling and caressing her clit with the wetness he discovered there. Her head fell back, and she pressed herself into his hand, grinding against him. She whimpered as he breached her with one finger, then two, her legs spreading wide to take him deeper.

He rubbed inside her, sliding in and out until she was fucking herself with his fingers. And then he lowered his head and sucked her clit into his mouth.

With a long moan, she bucked beneath him and came, her pussy quivering around his fingers as he kept stroking her in a steady rhythm. Fuck, she was burning up inside, so wet he could slide another finger easily inside her, and so he did.

A final sigh, and then she relaxed beneath him. After gently withdrawing his fingers, he planted a kiss on her thigh and maneuvered himself up her body, running his hand along her leg to hitch it over his hip.

But she shook her head, her curls wild around her face. “I can do better than that. I’m basically Gumby, only sluttier.”

Then, God help him, she rested one leg on his shoulder, then another on the opposite shoulder, while he blinked down at her in both abject gratitude and disbelief. Holy shit. She was completely open to him, flushed and swollen and wet, and he didn’t plan to refuse her invitation.

“Jesus, you’re incredible.” Supporting himself on an elbow, he guided his cock into her pussy, closing his eyes at the feel of her slick heat stretching around him. He paused there, only barely inside, and gritted his teeth. “Is this okay?”

For some reason, she was glaring at him. “Enough, Ace. Shut up and fuck me. Hard.”

She ran her hands up his chest and tugged him until he sank another inch inside her. They both gasped, and every last bit of control abandoned him.

With a groan, he pushed deeper, until her pussy had taken every last inch of his cock and Jenny was moaning and rocking beneath his body. And then, as she’d demanded, he fucked her hard, bucking into her while she rubbed her clit and made maddening, needy noises.

She didn’t take long to come again, her keening cry echoing in his ears as her body gripped and released him in rapid spasms.

His own orgasm was an apocalypse. The destruction of over a decade of control, a flood that wiped away all thought and every instinct but to get deeper, hold her tighter, and never, ever let her go. He intended to listen to that primal directive. And given the way she clutched him close as he shook, her short nails biting into his shoulders as her pussy continued to throb around his cock, he was hoping she had no objections.

* * *

“Breaking news,” she whispered later, cuddled up next to his side. “You’re really fucking good at that, Ace. Also, I may need to add some turgid zucchini to your portrait.”

“Counterpoint.” He cupped her butt cheek, glorying in the softness of her skin. “We’re really fucking good at that. And I love the painting just as it is, even without additional rigid vegetation.”

Her happy hum vibrated against his chest, and he pressed a kiss on her curls.

“Have you exhausted your repertoire of newspaper puns yet?” Not that he cared, really. She could say whatever the hell she wanted, and he knew he’d enjoy it.

She ran a hand down his hip. “I think my orgasm damaged the punnery section of my brain. Expect a lawsuit shortly.”

At the mention of lawsuit, a couple of his napping synapses fired. “I forgot to tell you. Yesterday, I asked the Chronicle lawyer to prepare for some legal challenges from Bigelow, or at least the threat of them. Once he finds out we’re involved, I’m sure he’ll accuse us of entrapment or something similar. Anything to distract from his foundation’s misuse of funds. But he has no legal basis for complaint, so don’t worry.”

Her body stiffened against his. “Would you rather keep our relationship secret, then, as long as you can?”

Wrapping both arms around her, he pulled her on top of him. “On the contrary. I want to acknowledge it in a story next week.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her brows beetled. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t include one of your private portraits in the article that ran this morning.” The sting of that defeat would take a while to fade, especially given how much he hated causing Jenny pain. But he hoped his additional news would ease at least some of her burdens. “I did get permission to do a different column, though.”

“About us?” Now she’d propped herself on his chest with both elbows. “You’re going to write a story about how you’re boning a former source?”

“Not exactly.” He smiled up at her. “I’m going to write a story about the trend of Napoleonic portraits among the D.C. insiders surrounding Bigelow. I plan to delve into the backgrounds of the painters Artify Yourself! has hired. Including you. I’ll mention our connection.” He let out a breath and watched her expression. “And I’ll also include at least one image showing the sort of work you normally do. Your portraits in acrylics.”

She went still, the curve of her cheek dappled by the sunlight filtering through her bedroom window. “You got permission for that?”

“It won’t be front-page news,” he warned. “More like the Lifestyles section. But yes, I have permission for all of it.”

In his final talk with his editor yesterday, he’d made his position clear. Either the paper ran the story he’d proposed and gave him the next several days off, or he’d find another newsroom to haunt. And given how well-known his name had recently become, she’d been willing to hear his demands and agree to them.

Plus, she knew any mention of his entanglement with a former source would draw readers to his article. She was no fool.

“I don’t know what to say.” Jenny shook her head, her eyes wide. “A simple thank-you just doesn’t seem sufficient. I don’t…” She hesitated. “No one’s ever tried to help me like this before. No one’s ever cared enough.”

He didn’t know whether to preen or go find all her exes and kick them in the nuts. But since the latter would probably land him in jail, he supposed he’d better skip the testicular damage and keep talking.

“In the article, I also intend to address how the painters of the political portraits really feel about their subjects. That is, if those painters are willing to jeopardize their jobs by stating their opinions on the record.” He tightened his arms around her, flattening her to his chest. “You’ll have to think hard about it, sweetheart. Artify Yourself! might not respond favorably to an employee insulting a client.”

Her eyes reached full-on Cartoon Princess Status. “You just called me sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I did. Because that’s what you are.” He tangled his fingers in her curls and brought her head down for a brief, wet kiss. “And soon, everyone who reads the Chronicle will know it too.”

After brushing her mouth against his one more time, she rolled off him and sat up. “You need to listen to your messages, David. You said last night you’d gotten calls from various television shows. Call them back and schedule interviews with them.”

He laid a hand on her sternum and gently pushed until she was horizontal once more. “Relax. There’s time for that later.”

“The foundation self-dealing story was a huge coup.” Her mouth was pinched, her brow creased in determination as she looked up at him. “You need to take advantage of that scoop for the sake of your career, especially since Bigelow will try to ruin everything soon enough.”

“You’re important to me. Just as important as my work.” He held her stare. “And I just got here. I’m not leaving you so soon.”

Some mistakes in his life he might repeat, but some he wouldn’t.

“I’d understand.” She trailed the backs of her fingers along his cheekbone, and her voice turned gentle. “I’m not your ex-wife, Ace.”

“You might understand. I wouldn’t.” And that was final. However… “That said, my condo is so empty it echoes. And one of the unused rooms on the top floor has lots of windows and a couple of skylights. It’s not huge, but it’ll do the job.”

Her breath caught. “Are you asking me to come to D.C. with you?”

He let a kiss supply his answer. “Stay at my condo for a while. Set up your studio on the top floor.” Stroking a stray curl back from her face, he met her warm blue eyes. “Paint and relax and spend time with me.”

“Are you sure?” Her hand covered his, and she intertwined their fingers. “I don’t want to be a burden or a distraction.”

Lowering his head, he rubbed his nose against hers. “You could never be a burden. And you’re the best sort of distraction imaginable. I want you with me, Jenny. Please.”

She beamed at him, her characteristic wide smile stretching her face and catching at his heart. “In that case, I have an exclusive for you.”

“What’s that?” He climbed on top of her once more, nudging her legs until he could settle between them. They immediately hooked around his thighs as her arms circled his back. And when he rolled his hips, she rubbed against him in response.

She whispered her news into his ear, the tickle of breath searing a path to his cock. “I’ll come with you to D.C. later today.” Without warning, she maneuvered them both until she was straddling him and he lay beneath her, her willing captive. “But first, you’re going to come with me, Ace.”

He had the distinct feeling this was going to be the best, most satisfying story of his life.

“Anything for such a valuable scoop,” he said.

And then he stroked a hand up her back, pulled her down for a kiss, and got to work.

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