"I'd love if you'd do it." His lips brush over my neck. "I would be so honored."
I press my lips to his. "I'll think about it."
"You'll think about it and then you'll do it." He slides his hand to the back of my head as he tilts my head to the side to deepen the kiss.
Chapter 12
"Have you thought about showing your drawings to Beck?" Vanessa pulls her hair into a ponytail. "If you say you haven't, I'm going to tell you that you should."
I stare at the back of her head. In passing, you might mistake us for sisters. Our hair color is almost the same, so is our height but the similarities end there. Her smile is wider, her eyes set farther apart and they're a deeper shade of blue. She looks European and although I know she was adopted, I don't know all of the details about her birth family. Zoe has told me bits and pieces and I've expressed an open invitation to talk if she needs it. Vanessa and I aren't as close as Zoe and I but I'm working on changing that. I like being around her. She's positive and bright.
"I was going to talk to Zoe about it, but the timing wasn't right."
"There's an open show at a gallery in SoHo for local artists." She adjusts the silver chain around her neck. "One of the other nurses was talking about it. Her daughter is apparently incredibly gifted. She does sculptures. I thought it might be a good place for you to show some stuff too."
It's an idea that catches me so off guard that I have to take a minute to actually digest it fully. "I don’t think I'm ready for something like that yet."
"You are." She turns to look at me. "I can tell that you are."
"It's not that easy," I begin before I stop myself.
"It's open to anyone in Manhattan who wants to show their work so you'd actually perfect for it." She completely ignores my comment and I'm grateful for it.
I've wandered through some of the city's galleries when I've had time to kill. Part of the draw has been just to bask in the immense talent that is found in the city but another part of it has been based purely in inspiration. The thought that I could one day have my own drawings hanging in a space where people can come see them is overwhelming.
"I want to hear more about it."
"That's my girl." She pats me on the shoulder. "I'll get you the details and you'll submit a few drawings to see if you're accepted."
I nod. "I can do that. That's simple."
"I know you can." She motions towards the door of her apartment. "Let's go meet Zoe. I'm starving."
***
After I'd finished lunch with Zoe and Vanessa, I went to the park. I haven't drawn in days and the need to create had almost consumed me. I'd rushed home to gather my sketchpad and pencils and set out with a renewed purpose to channel everything I'm feeling inside.
I settle onto the corner of a bench as I see an elderly couple do the same several feet away from me. They're ideal in that their expressions complement one another perfectly as they share stories that are too far off in the distance for me to hear but close enough for me to capture with my hand.
I sketch them both until they stand. I hurry to finish the outline of the drawing wanting to reflect everything I see between them before they wander off into the distance. I touch up the delicate features of their faces as I remember them in my mind's eye for the next hour.
I close my pad realizing that now is the time. I've worked for years to create portraits as a way to channel my view of the world. If I don't put myself out there now, when I have the perfect opportunity to do it, I'll regret it.
I tap out a quick text message to Vanessa reminding her to send me the information about the showing in SoHo. Then I pull up Dane's contact information and type out a text to him telling him that I want to see him.
I'm about to put everything I am out into the world and the feeling of fear mixed with exhilaration makes me realize it's something I've been craving for as long as I can remember.
Chapter 13
"You can't move so much, Dane." I hold tight to the edge of my sketchpad. "I need you to stay still."
He stares up into my face. I can't tell what he's thinking. I'd instructed him to lie flat on his back on my bed after we'd made love. His hair is a twisted mess from my fingers pulling on it when he sucked and licked me to my release. His face and chest are flushed from when he crawled up my body and fucked me hard as he held my legs over his shoulders. He's as handsome in this moment as any man I've ever laid eyes on. He's beautiful; he's tender and there's unspoken vulnerability within his expression right now that makes me want to capture it forever.
"How am I supposed to stay still when you're sitting on top of me naked?"
I bow my head down as a smile courses over my lips. I'm straddling his large frame. My wetness is resting against the top of his groin. I'm peering down at him as I try to draw the man who has brought me to the edge of ecstasy time and time again tonight.
"Please don't move," I whisper into the stillness of my apartment. "I love the way you look right now."
He rests his left arm over his head, which only makes him look that much stronger and powerful. "I love the way you look all the time."
"You say those things to throw me off." I gaze down at the sketchpad as I pull the tip of the pencil across it, trying to capture the curve of his jawline.
He cocks a dark brow as his right hand slides to my thigh. "I say those things because I mean them. I don't know a woman who is more beautiful than you are."
They're words that can easily pull me away from what I'm doing. I'm tempted to drop the sketchpad so I can slide over his body and take him in my mouth. I've craved the strong taste of his release since that night weeks ago. I've wanted it again and as soon as I'm done I'm going to take it was my reward.
"Can I have the portrait when you're done?" His hand inches even higher up my thigh.
I feel a sense of loss at the idea of giving it to him. I've never given any of my portraits to anyone which I know isn't the basis for a career based on selling my art. I have to learn to let them go and it seems apropos that his should be the first I gift. I want to show it in SoHo though, if I'm accepted. "I might get to show some of my work at a small gallery. I thought maybe I could show this one."
His face softens at the suggestion and his hands stalls on its path up my thigh towards my core. "You want to show it? You're telling me that you're going to show some of your work in a gallery?"
Bending forward I press my lips to his. "I'm going to submit a few pieces for consideration. If they choose me, I'll get a chance to display my work."
"Bridget, that's amazing." His lips curve into a smile. "I'd be so honored if you used my portrait for that."
"You can have it after that." I straighten back up. "I want you to have it."
"I'll treasure it forever." His chest heaves with the words. "I'll cherish it until the day I die."
***
"My shifts are changing next month." He kisses me softly on the forehead before he pulls the t-shirt he was wearing earlier back over his head. "I'll be working at night for a few weeks."
I don't immediately respond. It's not that I'm not interested in his job. I've never personally known a fireman before and although we don't talk about it much, I find it fascinating and alluring. He's about as perfect as a man can get and the knowledge that he's devoted his life to helping others makes him even that much more irresistible to me.
"I'll have to go home to crash for a few hours every day but we'll still have time to hang out before you go to work at the pub."
In that one sentence, he's succinctly answered every question I may have had. I like spending time with him and the more we do it, the more I want it. Neither of us has said anything about dating one another exclusively but it's hard to imagine sharing my body with another man when I know the promise of Dane's is waiting for me whenever I want it.
"I'll need to finish the portrait." I gesture to where I dropped my sketchbook on the bed. "I'd like to try in daylight. Do you think we could hang out in Centra
l Park when you have a day off?"
"I'll hang out wherever you want me to." He pulls a sweatshirt over his head to cover the t-shirt. "I could stare at you for hours, Bridget."
"That will make it easy for me to draw you then."
He laughs before he leans down and slides his lips over mine.
Chapter 14
"It's a breathtaking space." I circle on my heel to soak in the natural light that is pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "It's perfect, isn't it?"
As I look around I entertain fleeting thoughts of my portraits framed and hung on these walls. It's a life dream coming to fruition and even though she called me earlier to tell me that I'd made the short list of potential artists who will be invited to show their work, I'm feeling confident that I will be chosen and that within weeks I'll be standing in this spot looking at my portraits on the walls.
"I just need you to sign one of these release forms, Bridget." She balances a pen between her index finger and her thumb. "Read it over carefully and then sign at the bottom."
I should ask Vanessa's fiancé, Garrett, to look over the document but as I scan it, I realize there's little that I don't completely understand. It's a standard form granting the gallery rights to showcase my work in any advertisements they may produce in relation to the showing. Judging by what's written within the document, they're planning on doing a media blitz that includes both print and online. I catch my breath as I sign, thinking about the possibility that an image of one of my drawings may appear on the gallery's website.
"Your work is brilliant." She takes the pen from me after I sign my name. "I was quite taken with it."
I know that she can't tell me if I've been chosen. Although her name is on the front of the gallery's awning, the panel of judges is comprised of critics, artists and the people who keep this gallery afloat. They are the benefactors who see art, in all its forms, as an integral part of life.
"I'm honored that I was chosen as a finalist," I say with all sincerity. I was actually initially shocked when I'd received the call that my work had made it through the review process. The gallery is going to be showcasing four different artists. There are ten finalists so I know my chances are good.
"You're available for the unveiling ceremony?"
"Yes, Mrs. Boudreau, I am."
"We'll be in touch then." I watch her head as it turns towards the door where a blonde haired young man is standing in wait. "That's another candidate. I'll need to get to him."
I nod as I take one last look at the space that may change my life forever.
***
"I'm not sure how to tell you this." His eyes don't meet mine as he says the words.
My heart stalls for a full beat and the pencil in my hand stops in its spot on the paper. I don't want the next thing that comes out of his mouth to be about Maisy. He hasn't brought her up since that night weeks ago. I haven't either. If he mentions her now it's going to derail me completely. "What is it?"
He rakes his hand through his hair, pushing it into a mess that makes him look boyish in a way that only compliments his face. "I'm crazy about you."
I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips as I allow my lungs to fill with air again. "You're crazy about me?"
His gaze flicks over my face. "I'm really crazy about you, Bridget."
"You weren't sure how to tell me that?" I look back down at the sketch and bring the pencil to his hairline. "Why weren't you sure about that?"
"I don't know how you feel about me." He nods towards the sketchpad. "I know you're addicted to my good looks and charm but I'm more than a pretty face."
I pull the pad up to cover the wide grin on my mouth. "I know that you are."
"I met you at exactly the right time in my life." He scratches the side of his nose as he turns to look across the park. "I'm a lucky guy."
"I'm a lucky girl," I say under my breath.
"I heard that." A ghost of a grin pulls at the edge of his full lips. "When we get back to your apartment, I'll show you exactly how lucky you are."
Chapter 15
"Your body was made for me. It feels so good to fuck you."
I can't argue that point. Right now I can't even agree with that point. He's already brought me to an orgasm with just the touch of his hands. I'm underneath him, flat on my back while he hovers above me. My eyes fall to the tattoo on his chest and I study the words, trying to capture them within my mind so I can search for them later.
"My mother wrote poetry." He glances down my body. "She writes poetry."
It's a glimpse into the family he never speaks of. I don't fault him for that. I don't talk about my parents either. We're not at a point where people¸ beyond the two of us matter enough to pull them into every day conversations. I like dwelling on him when I'm with him. I love watching the way his lips move when he talks about the calls he went out on that day. I grip tightly to his body when he's giving me pleasure and I feel bereft when he kisses me goodnight and walks out the door.
"Is that her poetry?" I glide my fingers across his chest and over the words. "Did she write that for you?"
"In a way," he whispers. "It's her handwriting."
"She wrote on your chest." I furrow my brow as I follow the delicate lines of the tattoo.
"No." He shakes his head slightly causing the motion to transfer into his shoulders and torso. "She wrote it on a paper for me. The tattoo artist I saw… he… he transferred it to me."
It's a lasting tribute to a woman who obviously means the world to him. "I like that. I like knowing that."
"I love my mother." He smiles as he stares into my eyes. "One day I hope you can meet her."
It's something that I hope for too. It may be far off in the distance but I can see it on the horizon now. "I'd love to meet her."
"You'll have to meet Garrett's mother too." He winks. "My mom and his mom are sisters. They're thick as thieves. One never goes anywhere without the other."
I scan his face, wanting to tell him that I'm feeling things for him that I can't express yet, but they're there waiting for the right moment. "Your family sounds amazing, Dane."
"Not as amazing as you." He shifts his legs so his swollen cock brushes against my groin. "You came out of nowhere and changed everything."
I close my eyes as he lowers his soft lips to mine and I drink in not only the taste of him but also the meaning of his words.
***
"You don't have any hot water." He rubs a white towel over his damp hair as I turn over in bed to look at him. It's morning and the fact that he's showered means he stayed the night with me again. "I'm colder now than when I went in to have a shower."
I wince at the thought of him taking a shower in the frigid water that typically comes out of the taps at this time of day. "Most of the people who live in the building shower around this time every morning so I always wait a couple of hours."
"Thanks for the heads-up," he says teasingly. "I'm clean. That's all that matters."
It's not all that matters. It's a perfect segue into a topic I've been meaning to ask him about since he started staying over at my place. "I can come over to your place sometimes. I'd like to see where you live."
The muscles in his bare back tighten at the suggestion. His hands freeze in place before he slides the towel from his hair and dries his body. "That's not going to work right now, Bridget."
I teeter on the edge of his response for more than a minute. He doesn't offer anything more so I dive right in because of that promise I'd made myself after he told me about Maisy. I won't get pulled into the middle of anything he has going on with her. She's not a factor in my life and if the magnetic pull that initially drew him to her is still there, he needs to tell me now. "Why not?"
Maybe he's never been questioned point blank before or perhaps he's always fallen back on his skills as a lover to draw a woman's attention away from the issue at hand because there's hesitance in his stance. He turns slowly to face me. "I'd love to fuck you once more
before I leave."
No. Don't. Please don't say that.
"I'm all fucked out right now." I pull on the blanket that he'd kicked to the foot of the bed when he mounted me last night. "Answer the question please."
He watches as I cover my breasts with the blanket, tucking it under my ass. "Please don't over react."
Again, he's drawing assumptions based on his past experience. If I over react, he'll retreat behind a shield of lies. He'll tell me what he thinks will quiet my suspicions enough that he can find the nearest exit. I'll never know the truth and when he walks out he'll take the promise of what might have been with him. "I won't."
He scrubs his hand over the back of his neck before he lowers himself to the edge of the bed. "It's Maisy. She still lives at my place."
Chapter 16
It's brutally true what they say about perfection being non-existent. It's not that I thought Dane was perfect. He's not. I'm not. It's a fantasy that people think exists when they can't bear the thought of accepting someone for who they are.
"You live with her?" I look him straight in the eye while I struggle to control my tone. "You live with your ex-girlfriend?"
He reaches towards me. My first instinct is to recoil but I sit in place. "I don't live with Maisy."
"You just said that she lives at your place," I point out as I slide my ass slightly to the left. I need distance so I can find clarity. "Does she live at your place or not?"
"I bought a house in Queens five years ago." He looks up at the ceiling as he swallows hard. "I asked her to move in with me a few months after we started dating."
The words don't sting. I wasn't in the picture then. I've known him less than a month so I can't whimper over the fact that almost two years ago he asked a woman that he loved to share his home and his bed with him.
Ember: Part One Page 5
