“A couple of days ago,” I admitted slyly.
“You sneaky rascal.” She shook her head.
I shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You made me send you a selfie, knowing you’d see me in person.” She smirked at me.
“Couldn’t give it away. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“It’s the best surprise I’ve had in a long time.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.
My hand slid down her back, pressing her tightly against me.
“As much as I’d love to stay here and do more of this, you have an adoring public out there,” I indicated the gallery beyond the door.
“Yeah, and I need to go find Charles,” she murmured against my lips.
“Oh yeah?” I asked as my fingers moved up into her hair, plucking out the pins that secured it up in a sophisticated bun. As the knot unwound, I ran my fingers through her soft locks. “There she is. My flutterby. You colored your hair,” I whispered. The elegant bun had hidden the pink tips now decorating her blonde tresses.
♪ In A Different Light by Doug Stone
She shrugged. “I thought it was time to get back to me.”
“You’re beautiful. I love you so much. Now let’s go find Charles. The sooner you appease all your fans, the sooner we can have a proper reunion,” I said, giving her butt a squeeze.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and escorted her out to the gallery floor. Charles noticed us and started making his way towards us, a huge grin on his face.
“I’ve thought about it,” Izzy said as he reached us.
Her body trembled, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. With a shaky voice, she said, “You can tell the buyer I’ll take the offer.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“That’s wonderful news. I’ll give him a call after I introduce you to someone,” Charles exclaimed.
She looked helplessly at me. Her face was a mosaic of sadness, excitement and regret.
“Do you mind, Daw? I know you just got here, but—” she started.
“You go do your thing and wow them. I’m going to admire my girl’s creations,” I said and gave her a quick but fervent kiss.
She followed Charles over to a group of men in suits. I watched her for a moment. She was so animated as she discussed her work.
A few people glanced at me, but no one approached. Perhaps the suit was a good disguise.
I stepped over to a painting that looked oddly like the photographic puzzle on my kitchen table. The angle was slightly different, but it was from the same day. Whoever my stalker was, she’d been in Paris and took the photo of me and Izzy.
Izzy’s painting of that day was beautiful. I could still recall the smell of the flowers and fresh cut grass. I could still feel the weight of her in my arms and the pressure of her mouth on mine. And I remembered the day she showed me the painting. I was awestruck.
Charles interrupted my musings, “I didn’t really expect her to take the offer to sell it. She was so adamant about having it here for display purposes only.”
“What?” I was confused.
“Yeah, she said this was her most prized piece and she couldn’t bear to part with it. But the offer was really too good to refuse. This sale will go a long way in helping her pay off her hospital bills,” he told me.
Izzy was parting with a painting she loved because she needed the money. But it would break her heart to let it go.
“What was the offer?” I asked.
“A hundred grand,” he said.
“Tell whoever made the offer that she got a better offer,” I said.
“But she has plans for the money. No one else is going to flat out offer that much for an unknown artist,” Charles argued.
“Someone will. Someone has. My offer is one hundred and fifty grand. But don’t tell her yet. I want it to be a surprise,” I said.
“That’s perfect. You’re a good man, Dawson. I’m glad she has you. It seems she’s finding her passion, her muse now that you’re back in her life. The focal piece she created for this show is by far her best work yet. I’ll make sure I get you guys a set of prints of the canvases. She’ll want them later,” he said.
“Thanks. And thanks for believing in her and her gift.” I rocked on my heels, anxious to get back to Izzy.
“Isabelle is easy to believe in. You make sure you always do it. She deserves the best. Make sure she gets it,” he said sternly.
“Yes, sir. Now, do I need to fill out any paperwork for the Eiffel Tower painting?”
“Follow me and we’ll get it all wrapped up.”
♪ Something to Believe in by Poison
* * *
After a couple more hours, the show was done. About seventy-five percent of Izzy’s pieces sold. And she’d made several connections for commissioned pieces in the coming months. I was so proud of her.
Joe drove us back to her place and bid us goodnight. It took all my willpower to not devour her in the car, to only hold her hand in mine.
As the door closed behind us, she did an excited spin. She was completely giddy, and the emotion was contagious. Watching her realize her dream was even better than reaching my own. My heart soared with pride and love.
“I can’t believe they really liked my work. Liked it enough to buy it. I think I finally understand how you feel when someone buys your music,” she gushed.
She seemed unable to be still. Her feet waltzed across the floor, making the skirt of her dress swish in a hypnotic sway of colors. I was falling deeper under her spell. And I was a willing victim to the torrent of love thickening the air, becoming a tangible entity.
I intercepted her mid-twirl, winding one arm around her waist and clutching her hand in mine. “Dance with me?” I asked in a gruff voice.
♪ Dance with Me Tonight by Olly Murs
“Always.” Her slender fingers rested against my neck, the contact making my pulse thunder beneath her touch.
I rested our joined hands against my heart and swept her around the living room, weaving in and out of the furniture as I hummed the tune that meant so much to me. The first notes I ever strung together on my own.
“I feel like I’ve injected sugar and caffeine in my veins,” she said with a giggle.
“It’s the adrenaline. That’s how I feel when I get off stage. It’s a high that is hard to describe,” I explained, still moving us around the room.
“I don’t know what to do with all the jittery energy crackling inside. I’ll never be able to settle down.” She laughed again.
“I think I can help with that,” I said, shifting my body so my knee was wedged between her legs.
A moan fell from her lips. “I like the way you think,” she whispered.
I dropped my head to her shoulder and nibbled on the expanse of bare flesh that had been taunting me all night.
She leaned her head to the side to give me better access. A shiver rocked her body. We danced down the hallway, still moving to the beat that flowed in our minds and hearts.
Once we were in the room, I started to remove my suit jacket.
“Wait…” she said. “I want a picture of us.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone. She stepped next to me. With my arm extended, I adjusted until we were perfectly in frame, then I took several pictures.
Satisfied, I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and shrugged out of my coat. As I toed off my shoes, Izzy stepped up to me, tugged my shirt from my waistband and began to unfasten the buttons one at a time. Her fingers trembled as she made her way down.
I was a tangle of nerves and emotions. In awe, I stared at her. Her lower lip was trapped between her teeth as she concentrated on working each tiny button through the hole. When they were finally all undone, she blew out a breath of relief. The warm air rushing from her lungs caressed my skin. Her palms pressed flat against my chest, easing beneath the white cloth.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants before reaching out to
take her face in my hands.
She was shaking. When she looked up at me, so many emotions swam in the green pools of her eyes.
“You OK, flutterby?” I whispered.
She nodded. “Are you?”
“Complete honesty?” I croaked.
“Of course,” she replied.
I inhaled deeply, then blew it all out in a rush. “I’m nervous. Like prom night all over again nervous,” I admitted.
She giggled. “Me too. And that’s weird, right? I mean we’ve done this dance so many times. And there were no nerves after your concert or when you were taking care of me the other week. So why are we nervous now?”
I sat in the chair in the corner and tugged her across my lap.
“Maybe because we’re out of practice being us? Maybe because we know how monumental our love is?” I shrugged a shoulder.
“Maybe because we’ve had to survive without each other, and we’re scared to do anything that would jeopardize our new start?” she offered.
“Probably all of the above and other crap too.” My fingers ran up and down her bare arm.
“Yeah… So, what do we do about it?” she murmured.
“Take our time. Just like prom night. Communicate. Be honest about everything,” I suggested.
“OK to all, except maybe take our time. I don’t know if I can handle your brand of slow tonight,” she said, an edge of desperation in her voice.
“We’ll see.” I pulled her mouth to mine. As our lips sealed, I breathed her in and poured out all my longing, love and heartache. Our kiss was a collision of desperation and healing.
My hands glided smoothly along her shoulders now that they weren’t sweating. I carefully got to my feet, never breaking our kiss. Slowly, I lowered her legs until she stood pressed against me.
Her fingers scraped along my sides, traveling to my back so she could pull me firmly against her. I savored our kiss, filing away the little details like I had with so many other kisses in our history. The taste of mint and wine on her tongue. The tiny whimper that vibrated my mouth. The nails branding my back with surface scratches. The heady scent of berry and sugar filling my nostrils. And the hint of salt as our tears mingled, flavoring our kiss.
As much as I hated to, I tore my lips from hers. Before divorcing them completely, I pressed three quick kisses to her still parted lips. With pressure on her shoulder, I spun her around so her back was to me. My fingertips grasped the metal tab on the back of her dress. As I eased the zipper down, I nibbled the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Her arm came up, anchoring my head to her. My gaze rose and met hers in the floor length mirror across the room. The look in her eyes promised heat, desire and love. Always love.
The zipper finally reached the end of the line, and the dress fell to the floor with a swish. She was a vision in that reflective pane of glass. A strapless, black bra and matching lace panties were the only things covering her. My brain remembered what she looked like underneath those scraps of material, and so did my cock.
I wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her against me. My bare chest pressed against her back. Her head fell backwards as I sucked a path along her neck up to her ear. “So, beautiful,” I growled.
I brought my hand up to caress her breast. The lace scratched softly against my palm. My fingers zeroed in on her nipple, already peaking beneath the fabric. With the other hand, I skimmed down her abdomen until my fingers dipped under the waistband of her panties.
Muscle memory took over the instant my flesh stroked against hers. Instinctually, I recalled every sensitive spot, each pleasure point, all the areas that made her writhe and moan. My fingers remembered the beats and notes to strum in order to make her sing our love song.
I tugged the top of her bra down, so I’d have access to her nipples. I glanced up into her face. Her eyes were closed tightly.
I pinched her nipple as my fingers thrust inside her wet heat. “Open your eyes,” I said, my voice half pleading, half growling.
Her lids flew open, revealing those beautiful green orbs that had haunted my dreams for two years. They were darkened by passion and need. My fingers move in tandem, playing a song I’d never forget and that would always be my favorite. Her hips circled in a cadence synchronized with the rhythm of my motions. My cock was trying to break through two layers of fabric and was willing to risk injury prodding against my zipper just to come in contact with her.
Her breath hitched, and her eyelids dropped to half-mast as her muscles tightened. I recognized all the signs, and part of me considered backing off the pressure on her clit, shifting to barely there touches to draw out her pleasure. However, I couldn’t deny her or myself the beauty of her euphoria.
My name fell off her lips as her inner muscles clenched around my fingers. Her knees went weak, and her eyes shuttered closed.
I scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Hastily, I divested her of the scraps of lace hiding those last few inches of flesh from my eyes but not from my touch.
Once she was bare, I gawked at her in awe. She was perfection. She’d argue against that, but one thing I’d learned the past two years without her was that she was perfect for me.
Her hand rested self-consciously over her surgery scar. I lay on the bed between her parted thighs and lifted her hand. After pressing a kiss to her palm, I turned my attention to the mark she felt made her less. But I was determined to show her every day that the mark made her more.
Softly, I lowered my mouth to the symbol of her mortality, her strength, her journey. My tongue traced along the edges, making her shiver. The mark was raised slightly. When I glanced up at her, I could tell she still wasn’t quite comfortable with that piece of herself.
“You are gorgeous. Inside and out. Every single inch of you,” I assured her.
I slid my body lower, but before I could latch my mouth where I’d longed to, she threaded her fingers through my hair and gave a sharp yank.
“Daw, I need you. Inside me. Now.” The longing in her eyes was something I didn’t have an argument for. I was sure my gaze mirrored hers.
Rapidly, I shed my clothes. As soon as my cock was freed from his cloth prison, he jutted out like a heat seeking missile, and there was only one heat signature he was programmed to find.
I crawled back onto the bed. Somehow I had the presence of mind to use my brain. Barely. “Do I need to try to find a condom?”
Once we’d become official years ago, we didn’t use them anymore. But things changed. I couldn’t assume.
“No. I’m on birth control. And I believe you when you said you haven’t been with anyone since we… uh…” She shook her head, then continued, “Anyway, you’re clean.” She cast her gaze to the window on the far wall, refusing to look at me as she continued, “And Beckett always wore… one.” She squirmed uncomfortably.
With my thumb and forefinger, I grasped her chin and turned her face back to mine. “It’s OK. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You never once held my past before we got together against me. I don’t blame you for living while we were apart. That’s not why I asked. I just wanted to make sure,” I rushed to ease her discomfort.
Her eyes searched mine for a long moment, cataloging details like her artist’s brain always did. Then she smiled at me, erasing thoughts of anyone else ever touching her. Her fingers traced my cheek, jaw lips. “I love you so much, Dawson. You always know just what I need to hear.”
Her hips strained upward, trying to connect with mine. Shifting, I ran the tip of my cock along her slit. Desperate need fell from both our lips just before I lowered my mouth to nip her neck. My teeth scraped along the sensitive column of her throat.
“Please,” she keened. I felt the word vibrate beneath my mouth more than I heard it. But since the plea was in harmony with my own, I understood what she wanted. Lifting my head from the cradle of her neck, I gazed down into eyes filled with hunger and love.
I held my body over hers for half a second before I eased down, conne
cting our bodies. We both gave matching moans when I was buried to the hilt inside of her. With our bodies fully linked, I kissed her like it was our last kiss and our first kiss all over again, because in a way it was both. Our last kiss as the broken, scarred hearts we were, and our first kiss as these beautiful new entities ready to love with everything we had. Ready to love stronger, deeper and never stop fighting for us.
When I could take no more, I started to move. Each stroke rejoining our bodies erased the distance of our unnecessary heartbreak and drew a solid foundation for our love going forward.
“Baby, I know we compared this to prom night earlier… And I’m afraid there’s going to be another similarity,” I panted against her lips.
“Oh yeah?” she gasped with her legs wrapped around my hips.
“Yeah, I haven’t had sex in two years. I’ll last a little longer than our first time, but probably not by much,” I said through gritted teeth. I was using every ounce of strength to hold back my release until she was ready to fall with me.
“However how long it is, thirty seconds or thirty minutes, will be perfect because it’s us,” she said tenderly.
My head dropped so I could close my lips around her nipple. As I sucked her puckered flesh into my mouth, I reached down to where we were joined and rubbed her swollen nub with the amount of pressure I’d learned over the years sent her tumbling headlong into the abyss the fastest. As her core began to squeeze my cock rhythmically, I hissed out a breath. It felt so damn good.
“Izzy,” I moaned. Her name was a prayer and a plea. She tugged my head down to hers and fused our lips as I emptied myself inside her spasming body.
“I love you, flutterby. I swear to you, we’ll never be apart like that again,” I vowed as I collapsed on top of her, completely spent and deliriously happy.
♪ Swear it Again by Westlife
I rolled us over so she was cradled against me. I grabbed a handful of Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and cleaned us both up.
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 25
