“I have some sorbet for a light dessert,” he said when he cleared the dishes—paper again.

“Maybe later,” I said.

“Sounds good.” Then he took my hand and pulled me into a stand next to him. “Ready for something amazing?”

My nerves skittled across my skin as a warmth pulsed through me, landing between my legs. “Absolutely.”

He kissed my forehead. “Follow me.”

I eyed the door to his bedroom as he led me, my hand in his. I held back a gasp when he stopped in front of the door to his studio instead.

Well, whatever worked for him would work for me. After all, we’d fucked in there last night. Perhaps he’d take me up against the wall again. That was hot. Or maybe we’d go into the master suite bathroom and fuck in the bathtub. Or maybe—

He opened the door. “Surprise, silver.”

12

Roy

Her mouth dropped open.

I’d set up an easel with some cotton watercolor paper and a fresh set of colors. I brushed my lips over hers and whispered. “I want you to paint. I want you to paint me.”

“But I—”

I touched my fingers to her lips. “Be an artist, Charlie. Be who you were meant to be.” I unbuttoned my shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to pose for you.”

“Naked?”

“I was thinking shirtless.” I pulled my hair out of the low ponytail and let it drape over my bare shoulders. “But I’m up for anything.”

Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. “I haven’t done this in ages.”

“An artist remembers. Your hands will remember.”

“But I painted buildings. Landscapes. Flowers. Never a portrait.”

“Same rules. Paint what you see. Or what you don’t see.”

“Abstract? I was never much into abstract.” She looked down at the palette of color. “Roy, I—”

“This is for you,” I said. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.” Though I was secretly crushed. I honestly thought she’d enjoy this.

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head. “This is… This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Truly.”

My heart warmed.

“I just don’t know if I… I can’t possibly compare to you, Roy.”

“Why would anyone, especially me, want to compare you to me?”

“Well, you’ll see what I’m doing.”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Really? You wouldn’t look?”

“Honey, do you have any idea how long it took me to be able to show someone else my work?”

“How long?”

“Other than family, no one saw my work until I got to college.”

“Still, you were younger then than I am now.”

“True. But I’d been painting since I could walk.”

She smiled, her cheeks still blushed.

“Your work is yours. If you don’t want to share it, then don’t.”

“You’re…”

“What?”