Blake
"You know what's sexier than chocolate?" I say, looking over my shoulder at Katherine from the stove.
"Nothing is sexier than chocolate," she says with a smile.
"Chocolate and chili."
"I don't know," she says, scrunching her nose. "That sounds strange as a combo if you ask me."
"Try this," I say, motioning for her to join me in the kitchen. I spoon some of the sauce from the pan and hold it out to her. "I think you'll like it."
She leans in, parting her mouth. I place the spoon on her tongue.
"Good, right?"
"Oh wow, there's some heat to that, but it's…amazing," she says.
"Fun fact – chilis are an aphrodisiac."
She seems interested in that, but also hesitant to believe anything I say. I don't know if it's from the heat of the peppers, or talking about aphrodisiacs, but I notice that her face suddenly looks flush.
"How do you know so much about food?" she asks. "I had no idea you have culinary skills."
"I know my way around the kitchen," I smile.
I watch as she steps away from the kitchen and looks around the apartment.
"Nice place you've got here," she says.
"It's my own private oasis in the middle of the city."
"You do have a lot of privacy here."
"So," I say with a grin, "what do you do for a living besides making men excited?"
That catches her attention.
"You can try to butter me up all you want, but that's not why I'm here," she says.
I can tell this isn't going to be easy. She has her guard up higher than the Empire State building.
"What? I can't give you a compliment?"
She considers this for a moment.
"I came here to have dinner, not to be pet like some lost pussy cat."
"A lost pussy," I say, smiling at the pun. "Now that's an interesting thing to think about."
"Can you get your head out of the gutter for even five minutes?" she says. But as she turns her head away, I detect the hint of a smile forming on her lips.
It's working. She's slowly letting her guard down.
"I can't help it," I say. "You're so hot, even my zipper is falling for you."
I reach down and pretend to pull my zipper up.
This causes her to laugh. "So, you're an artist, chef, and comedian."
"Sometimes," I say with a smile.
"I'll give that one to you," she says. "That was pretty funny."
I finish cooking dinner, and carry it to the dining table. The entire table is set atop a checkered tablecloth and I made sure to add a bouquet of flowers from the farmer's market.
Because who doesn't love flowers?
"You outdid yourself," she smiles. "This looks incredible."
"Never miss an opportunity to see something beautiful," I say.
She considers this and nods. "Beauty is such a strange combination of things."
"It's so hard to qualify, isn't it?" I ask. "I mean, what pleases one person may not please the next. It's sort of like this giant, fascinating puzzle that we're all trying to figure out. But do you know what I think the best part about beauty is?"
Katherine shakes her head. "No, what's that?"
"The best part is that no art can truly and fully express it," I say. "As an artist, that's the goal. You chase it, and try to re-create it, and you can come very close, but it's never the exact thing in your mind's eye. I find it fascinating."
"How many layers do you have?" she smiles. "You can paint, cook, make me laugh, and you're also a philosopher."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask.
"A very good thing," she says, and she seems to be blushing all over again. "Consider me charmed."
"You know, I have a confession to make," I say, pouring her a glass of red wine.
She looks from the wine to me, and arches an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I've read your book."
"Wait," she says, surprised. "You have?"
"It's really good. You have so much talent as an artist."
"Look who's talking?" she says, her grin widening. There's a new sparkle in her eyes when she turns to face me. "I think you're one of the best painters I've ever seen."
"You're just saying that," I chuckle.
She places a hand on my arm. "It's true! I mean it. The way you capture a person's personality in their portrait is incredible."
I lean forward in my chair, moving closer to her. My heart seems to be kicking in my chest now. Here I am, sitting across a woman who is not only incredibly hot, but who is also an artist. She understands it.
"Being a creative person is hard," I say. "For the most part, the world doesn't understand it. It's frowned upon in many circles, and every painting I do is a passion project."
"Yes, exactly" she says. "But only because it has to be fuelled by passion. The most beautiful and creative art in the world isn't seen or touched — it's felt with the heart."
As soon as she says the word 'heart' I'm acutely aware that mine is already close to bursting. This woman is driving me crazy, and in the best possible way. My pulse feels as if I've just climbed a few flights of stairs.
I want to touch her. Hold her.
"I want to show you something," I say, extending my arm across the table and taking her hand in mine. "Come with me."
We both get up from the table and I lead her into my studio.
"These are my private works," I say, turning to her.
"That's incredible Blake," she says, just above a whisper, her eyes scanning each of the paintings. "And what are those?"
She points to a group of paintings at the other side of the studio. "These pieces are a little more…sensual."
"I can see that," she says. "Actually, I can feel it."
I step toward her. I lift my hand, slowly moving it from her face to her hair. I place my hand on the nape of her neck, my fingers tangled in the soft strands of her hair.
Our gazes lock, and I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. She moans, softly and faintly, and her breaths come in hot little pants. I move my other hand down and wrap it around her waist, pulling her even closer.
She reaches up, one of her hands caressing my hair now, and the other one softly cupping my neck. She parts her lips, and her warm tongue brushes mine.
Time officially stops, and for the first time in a long time, I know I'm in trouble.
Fuck, she just gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘hot’.