Page 104 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
He leans in closer while I scoot my chair back to get a different perspective. I angle my head and stare at it through judgmental eyes. The outline is just enough to make out the image of an Indy car flying across the canvas. It’s blurry on purpose, but I’m still not happy with it.
“It needs work yet,” I muse as I shade and frame the image more in my mind. “It’s only half-done and I’ve never really painted anything so technical like this before, so who knows how it will—”
“Shush.” He places his hands on my shoulders and begins to rub at the knots from my sitting hunched over a canvas for however long I’ve been here. “Quit being so critical of your talent. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”
“Well, I’m glad, because I was painting it for you.” And I’ve never felt the need to paint anything for anyone. The thought ghosts through my mind. And all I can think is that I need to give him something to remember me by.
“Thank you. I love it already.” He presses an absent kiss to the top of my head, which causes tears I refuse to acknowledge to burn in my throat. Such a casual gesture from him but so very telling of how far we’ve come since that first night when we made a toast to us.
“What are you up to?” I let my head fall back some, his fingers magic on my sore muscles.
“I finished up a few things on the deck and just wanted to see what the world-famous painter was up to.”
My smile is automatic. How ironic that he brought up a memory from that night out when I was thinking about it too.
“Oh, and here I thought you were finally coming to have me paint that nude of you.”
His laugh is sharp and fills the room with the suggestion lacing its edges. “You were, were you?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I have the right paint to give you the look you were going for.”
“What look is that?” he murmurs.
“Pretty.”
I yelp out a laugh as he spins my chair around without warning to face him. He braces his hands over my forearms on the armrests and looks at me, eyebrows raised, a lopsided smirk on his face, and eyes darkened with desire. Our laughter ceases instantly. The air of the room quickly heats from the chemistry sparking between us.
My breath catches in my chest. My hands tense on the arms of the chair. His look alone is causing my synapses to misfire. But this time, I’m much the wiser.
I want to use the match to light the fire. I know how good his burn is.
“Say it again, Socks. Pretty please,” he murmurs against my mouth before dipping his tongue between my parted lips and giving me a quick taste of the hunger inside him before pulling away—leaving me wanting so very much more. “Give me a reason.”
My lips curl as he leans back. My nipples harden against the cotton of my shirt from his proximity. The heat of his hands on my arms burns in the best way possible.
“A reason for what?” I’m breathless. Needy. Desperate for him.
“To make you beg.” His smile taunts. The look in his eyes tempts me. The lick of his tongue between his lips does all kinds of funny things to my insides. The intent in his words has me pressing my thighs together.
And oh, how I want him to make me beg.
I feign nonchalance. Try to act unaffected, but it’s impossible when he’s standing over me and every part of my body is aching for his touch.
But I try.
“How would you make me beg?”
His laugh sounds deep and rich. “You think you can bat those gorgeous eyes at me, act like you’re all sweet and innocent, when I know exactly what you want and just how to give it to you?”
“How do you know what I want?” My voice is coy, lips pursed, as I look up and play this game with him.
He laughs again, but this time it sounds like his hands feel when they run over my skin: smooth with a hint of roughness and a whole lot of desire. “I was born to give you what you want, Socks.”
It’s my turn to laugh. My body hums with anticipation. There’s a hint of edge to the gleam in his eye and the sexual side of me he’s awakened really wants to test it.
“So. Damn. Pretty . . .”
His lips quirk. His eyebrows lift. His breath catches. He stands up ever so slowly, mouth sliding into a smile that’s part victorious, part devious. I wonder what I just awakened in him at the same time as I can’t wait to find out.
