Never allowed myself to relax or trust enough to give myself entirely to another.
The sensation of falling into her and out of me, of creating something new together, wrapped around my heart and squeezed. It squeezed with joy and euphoria and a crushing amount of regret.
Regret at not experiencing this overwhelming closeness before.
Of not realising just how special our connection was when we were younger—before I almost ruined everything.
My pulse pounded as our kiss took on another dimension.
Of longing and longevity.
I would kiss this woman for the rest of my life and never get tired of her, never stop wanting her or being so fucking grateful that she waited.
That she had an endless well of forgiveness and strength to put up with all my mistakes.
She moaned as my fingers trailed to her belly, lifting her white t-shirt over her head and breaking our kiss. Hating the distance, I unzipped her jeans and shimmied them down her legs before kissing her again.
Our lips never stopped touching as I removed her bra, socks, and underwear.
Only once she was naked, did I stop.
I pulled away, looking down at her hair tousled on my bed, her perfect breasts rising and falling with erratic breath, and her lips red and swollen from mine.
She was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen.
And she belonged to me as surely as I belonged to her.
It wasn’t a matter of possession.
It was a matter of undeniability.
Of two souls being one.
“My turn,” she breathed. Arching up, she tugged my t-shirt over my head and unbuckled my belt.
I shuddered as her touch skimmed over my bare flesh.
I’d never get over how reactive I was to her. How much I craved her. How much I fucking loved her.
Her hands looked so delicate as she pushed aside my jeans, and I shifted to shove them down my legs. No boots, no socks, they slipped off the bed, leaving me in my boxer-briefs.
Her fingers wrapped around my erection, her skin hot even through the cotton.
“Wait.” I clutched her wrist, my heart racing.
Her eyes flared. “Why?”
The urge to rock into her hand made me grit my teeth. I squeezed my eyes closed, doing my best to scrape together the last remnants of my self-control. “We do this, and there is no going back. Until death do us part, O.”
Her hand fisted me, fierce and possessive. “No more secrets. No more sacrifices.”
I bared my teeth. “No more being apart.”
“I’m okay with that.” Her grin was light-hearted even while everything about me was heavy. My blood was heavy. My desire heavy. My promise to always protect her heavy with utmost honesty.
I kissed her again, shuddering as she shoved down my boxer-briefs, and our skin connected bare to bare.
Heat. Softness. Overwhelming need.
Her hand found my cock again, this time without cotton separating us. She squeezed me, stroking up and down. My head tipped forward as I lay on top of her, trapping her arm between us, smothering her with my weight.
Our eyes locked. My heart overflowed. The past meant nothing because this was where I earned everything I ever wanted. Olive was safe. My soul was healed. And O still loved me.
Despite everything.
“I need you, Gil.” She rubbed against me, her touch tightening in command.
My own hand slipped between her legs, finding her wet and wanting.
She cried out as I pierced two fingers inside her, claiming her, tormenting her.
I kissed her, harsh and dominating as her hips worked up and into my control. My own hips worked into her hand, both desperate to connect, impatient and hungry.
I wanted to take my time.
To touch every part of her, suck her nipples, grant her orgasm after orgasm, but...there was time for that. We had a lifetime to make up for the fast moments. We had forever to explore and experiment.
For now, this was a hello.
A long-awaited hi.
Withdrawing my fingers, I nudged away her hand and settled between her thighs.
She spread wider, her smile bright and blinding.
I couldn’t help it.
I had to kiss her again.
Deeply, deliciously kiss her.
Her tongue danced with mine as my cock found her entrance.
She gasped into my mouth as I slowly pushed inside.
I went slow, tantalisingly slow. This wasn’t sex. This was so, so much more. This was us no longer fighting destiny.
We quaked as I finally slid the final inch and sheathed myself completely within her. Her body radiated heat and I struggled with the need to thrust. To push us both to the release just out of reach.
Instead, I paused.
I looked down at her, nestled beneath me, her lips still red, eyes liquid with love, and for the first time in my life...I trusted.
Truly, unquestionably trusted.
This woman was mine.
She always had been, always would be.
I would never doubt that again.
I pumped into her.
She moaned and dug her fingernails into my lower back, rocking with me.
My thrusts turned faster, deeper, plunging as far as I could.
And O demanded more.
We traded the slow rhythm for a primitive one. Chasing love and lust in its rawest form.
Our lips collided, quick and out of control.
Need galloped around my blood and an orgasm wrapped around the base of my spine.
O shuddered, her mouth parting as pleasure rippled through her. The bands of her release squeezed my cock. I grew harder, thrust faster.
“Fuck...” I groaned.
She cried out as I drove into her, burying my face into her neck and biting her as I lost control.
I came harder than I ever had before.
My stomach hollowed out. My muscles locked. I poured into her, giving her every part of me.
Over and over I came until I trembled and slowly returned from paradise to earth.
For the first time, I wondered about birth control. I’d slept with O without protection. We’d never discussed if she was on the pill. We should probably chat about our future dreams and goals regarding family, but for now, I was open to anything.
I didn’t care if I spent the rest of my life loving O and Olive or if we’d add to our brood.
Either way, we were family.
Now and forever after.
* * * * *
“Good morning.” I smiled as O appeared from my bedroom.
Her answering smile was almost sheepish, her hair tangled and body loose. “Good morning.”
“Coffee?” I poured a fresh cup for her.
“Please.” Padding over to me in bare feet, I couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop believing this was real. That I got this fucking lucky.
Passing her the mug, I couldn’t stop myself from hugging her close and kissing her.
It was meant to be a short kiss.
It turned out to be a long, heated hello.
By the time I let her go, I was hard again and cursing the clock for not having enough time to get her back into bed.
Justin had text and congratulated me. He said he knew why O hadn’t gone home last night and was glad I’d finally come to my senses. He also said to meet him and Olive at her dance practice downtown and not to be late.
My grin was stupidly big as O sipped the drink I’d made her and practically swooned. “How is it that life feels so much brighter? This coffee tastes better than any other coffee. The sun is prettier than any other sun. It’s as if—”
“We’ve come alive again,” I murmured.
“Yes, exactly.” Her eyes snagged mine and once again my heart skipped a beat.
Without looking away, I pulled the small piece of paper from my pocket. “Here.”
I hadn’t planned on giving it to her so soon. But.
..this moment was perfect. This moment was just us, before we returned to reality.
“What is it?” Placing her coffee on the bench, she grinned.
“Read it.”
Her eyes left mine, skimming the newly-penned job advertisement. If she accepted the job, there would be no terminations or quitting.
The position was for life.
Must be brave, stubborn, and impervious to the tempers of loved ones.
Hours are endless, pay is non-existence, quitting absolutely forbidden.
Able to function on no sleep, refrain from running when times get hard, and be more than just a living canvas but a lover...a mother.
Other attributes required: forgiving, opinionated, and not afraid to tell me when I’m wrong. Must also enjoy being touched and kissed at any time of my choosing.
Call or email ‘YOUR HEART, HIS SOUL’ if interested in applying.
Her head whipped up the moment she’d finished, her gaze searching mine. “What is this?”
I fought the weakness in my knees, going to her and cupping her cheek. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
I’d written it an hour ago as dawn arrived. I’d dared to dream I could have everything.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I want you in my life. My business is back in full work, and I only want to paint one canvas for the rest of my days. I want you there to scold me when I’m being an arse. I want you to continue loving Olive like you do. I want to share everything I have and am with you...forever.”
“Gil, I—”
“You don’t have to say yes...not straight away. I can wait.”
“And if I say yes now?”
“Then it’s binding. A contract for eternity.”
She blushed. “Eternity is a long time.”
“It’s far too short.” Gathering her in my arms, I kissed her gently. “I will never be as good as Justin. I accept that. I accept that I will never be as selfless as either of you and acknowledge that I will probably let you down at some point, but, O...I don’t want any other canvas. I don’t want any other mother for Olive. I want to share art with you. I want to paint and dance together. I want you.”
She trembled under my touch. “I...I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll marry me.”
Her lips parted. She gasped. “Are you serious?”
Instead of answering, I dropped to one knee. “Marry me, Olin Moss. It’s always been you. It will always be you. I don’t know how to survive without you.”
O tugged at my hands, trying to bring me to my feet.
I fought her, waiting for a reply.
I would stay on my knee for weeks if that was what it took.
Slowly, a tear ran from the corner of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
She bit her lip, nodding. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
And suddenly, I was that kid falling in love with a girl in a school corridor.
Possibilities were endless.
Love guaranteed.
She was my family.
Finally.
Epilogue
______________________________
Gil
IT TOOK A year to pay off the fine and the donations to the victim’s families.
I technically didn’t have to pay. I’d filed for bankruptcy in prison and all debts against my name were null and void.
But...I wanted to.
I needed to.
I might not have killed those girls but my silence gave Jeffrey the freedom in which to take their lives.
I also paid Justin for his time and cost of looking after Olive in his home.
He tried to give it back.
Said it was insulting.
But I wrapped his hand around the thick envelope and begged him to take it.
Money was crass and not worth nearly what he’d done for me, but I needed to even the scorecard between us. Until he had a kid of his own that O and I could babysit, I didn’t want anything outstanding between us.
I didn’t want him to feel like I didn’t appreciate what he’d done when he was as important to me as my daughter and wife-to-be.
It took another year to save enough for a new home for the three of us—four counting our regular guest, Justin.
Business was good.
Commissions were piling up.
O was my canvas every day.
She ran my page, liaised with companies, and ensured my notoriety went global.
Without her, I would never have reached the levels I had. She ruled me and my creativity with her capable, wonderful kindness.
Working with her, living with her, I was aware I’d replaced Justin in both those roles. But at no point was there animosity between any of us. Justin hung out almost on a nightly basis—unless he had a date, and then he’d vanish for a week or so, figuring out if this new girl was worthy to join our extended family.
Once O and I had saved enough to buy a home, all of us went house hunting. We started in the city, looking for large warehouses like I had before. We investigated the suburbs next, traipsing through derelict homes and abandoned corner shops that could be renovated into the next location for our business.
In the end, we went into the country, door knocking on old farms with large barns, asking local villagers if they knew of estates coming up for sale.
And we found nothing suitable.
The hunt had been fun before it became frustrating.
I wanted a large studio with its own shower and lots of storage.
O wanted lots of sunshine and big windows.
Olive wanted a huge bedroom with a painting corner and chalkboard walls.
Justin wanted a guest suite with its own sitting room so he could come stay with us for days at a time and work away from the office.
Our hopes dwindled as we struggled to find anything remotely perfect.
Until...we finally found it.
A 1600s barn that had been converted into a four-bedroom, three bathroom home with modern editions of glass and steel. The ceilings soared above us with exposed centuries-old timber. Sun streamed in from big skylights and our wish list was complete with a private studio and guest suite dotted around the hobby farm.
Olive got a conservatory and O got her sunshine. Justin got his guest wing and I got a large studio for my business.
Life was good.
Better than good.
Life was perfect.
And I was so fucking grateful.
“Hey!” I chuckled as Olive dashed past me, stealing my paintbrush.
“You’re too slow.” She waggled it, dropping ochre splashes on the polished concrete floor. I didn’t care about the paint spots, this entire place would be covered when I started working. That was the beauty of paint. It belonged on the tools and walls as much as it did on the canvas.
I chased her, grabbing her around the middle and flipping her upside down. A couple of pennies fell out of her pockets along with a blue pencil and scrunched up piece of paper.
“Put me down!”
“Do you promise not to be annoying?”
“You’re annoying.” She giggled.
“You’re the most annoying.” I spun her the right way up and plonked her onto her feet. “The most annoying of annoying.”
She stuck out her tongue, swiping the paintbrush over my cheek. “No. You are.”
“Oh, now you’re gonna get it.” I launched at her, only to miss as she barrelled around O and tucked herself against the wall.
“Nu-huh. You will!” She laughed as I bear-hugged both of them, squishing O against me and Olive against the wall. “O will protect me!”
To be able to joke like this. To be stupid like this.
Fuck.
O rolled her eyes and laughed softly. “You two need to grow up.”
“Tell him that.” Olive stuck her tongue out again. “He’s not painting. He’s just standing there with a dopey look on his face.”
O looked over her shoulder, kissing the tip of my nose. “I like that dopey look.”
“And I like you,” I murmured, placing my mouth over hers for a quick kiss.
I would never get used to that privilege, that sense of completeness. I was home. In every sense of the word. We’d found our dream house, but without O to share my heart and Olive to take care of, it would be meaningless and empty.
“Eww, you two are so gross.” Olive wriggled out, returning to the huge mural we’d started this morning as a family.
Part graffiti, part geometric, part realism.
I’d taken inspiration from O’s tattoo. The owl with its hidden animals beginning with O. This time, it was a design that incorporated all of us, and took up the entire two-story wall at the end of the studio, showcasing the art of paint and the master of shadow.
O had agreed to help paint the simple stuff—outlines and bold block colours—saying she didn’t have enough talent to do more. Olive had exceeded all my hopes of her following in my footsteps, and her talent with a brush sometimes made me sit back in serious awe.
We returned to work, colours flowing harmoniously.
O glanced at the clock, her stomach rumbling. “In another thirty minutes, I’ll put dinner on.”
“Don’t forget I have a dance lesson tonight,” Olive said. “The teacher is coming here.”
“And don’t forget I asked for a lesson for me after.” I chuckled. “Thought we could practice outside by the pond.”
O spun to face me. “You asked for a dance lesson?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
Why? Because dancing had been torn from her life like Olive had been torn from mine. I’d been lucky enough to reclaim Olive, but O...she wasn’t under false illusions that her body would always be a slightly bit broken.
I didn’t want her to go through life without soul food.
So...I’d arranged ballroom dancing for us. Salsa and jive. I sucked and my coordination was laughable, but I would embarrass myself every night if O danced with me.
Because when she danced, the music whispered through her veins, and she glowed.
Glowed like the angel I always knew she was.
“I need the exercise.”
She chuckled. “You work out every morning.” She walked into my embrace, her lips seeking mine. Her eyes said she knew exactly my intentions. “You’re so good to me, Gilbert Clark.”
The Living Canvas (Master of Trickery, #2) Page 33
