“I like the pink color,” the girl said.
“Excellent.” Kate smiled. “How about this one?” She indicated another painting.
She continued this process until each and every painting had been discussed, some more than others. Still, the students found something positive to say about each of the pieces.
“Great job today,” she said finally. “Let’s clean up, and I’ll see you next week.”
The students immediately went about their task without complaint. After she’d said goodbye to each of them, I drove us back to my place.
“Have you been volunteering there long?” I asked.
“About a year or so. I love seeing the way their little faces light up when they’re painting.”
I nodded. “You’re really good with them, and they adore you. Have you considered a job in art education?”
She seemed to hesitate before answering. “I have, but I’m still figuring out what I want to do after I graduate.”
“From what I’ve seen of your work, you’re talented.” I didn’t issue compliments easily, and I meant every word I said.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Did you always know you wanted to be an artist?”
“Yes. My mom’s a professional photographer, so she encouraged me. My brother’s always been very supportive too.”
“Is he an artist as well?” she asked when I pulled onto my street.
“Talent manager. He’s actually my manager as well.”
“Wow. That’s awesome. I think I’d kill my siblings if I worked with them.”
I chuckled. “How many do you have?”
“Two, both older than me, both with respectable, distinguished careers.” She affected a snobbish tone.
I sensed it was a sticking point for her, and I wondered if that was because it was how she felt or how her family made her feel. Either way, I didn’t like it. Being an artist was more difficult than traditional careers that provided stability, performance metrics, monotony.
I pulled into my drive and put the car in park before leaning over, wanting to be closer to her. “Sounds boring if you ask me. And you are the opposite of boring.”
She smiled, and I felt oddly proud of the fact that I’d put the smile on her lips. She was always doing things to cheer me up, to encourage me, so it was nice to be able to return the favor.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked as we climbed out of the car.
“I—” She glanced toward the street as if looking for escape. “Does that mean you changed your mind about pulling out of the exhibition?”
“It does.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, more accurately, you changed my mind.”
She tilted her head to the side, a smile teasing at her lips. “I guess my field trip wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”
“Come on,” I said, turning for the door so she couldn’t see my answering grin. “Let’s get to work.”
“Right.” Her tone was more serious. “Of course. Work.”
“Are you still nervous?” I asked after disarming the security system. “Because it’s okay. I’m nervous too.”
I’m nervous that you turn my world upside down.
I’m nervous that you challenge everything I thought I knew about art, about myself.
I’m nervous that I’m falling for you.
I hadn’t realized what had been missing from my life until Kate. It was crazy; I hadn’t known her long, but there was a connection. She just got me.
She nodded but said nothing more, setting down her tote bag and walking over to the easel where our piece was displayed. Well, what remained of our piece. In a rage, I’d covered much of it with angry slashes of black paint. Something I now regretted.
“What happened?” she asked, touching the canvas lightly with her fingertips as if it were wounded skin.
I swallowed, dreading the pained look I knew would come. “I was angry.” And foolish. I hadn’t wanted to face the truth about myself—my art would never be the same again.
She turned to me with a fire in her eyes. “Good.”
“Good?” I asked, thinking I must have heard her wrong.
“Yes. Good. Instead of suppressing your anger, your hurt, your frustration, you’re confronting it. And you’re channeling those feelings into your art.”
“But I ruined the one decent piece I had.”
“Stand back and look at it. Really look at it.” She tugged on my arm, forcing me to take a few steps back.
I tilted my head to the side, looking at it again. It was different, but it was actually… I liked it. Or at least, I didn’t hate it.
“See.” She butted me with her shoulder.
I nodded, turning to face her. “You’re right. You were right about everything.”
We stared at each other, and I tried to read her expression, her eyes. Was she just as captivated by me as I was by her? I wondered if that was why she’d asked me to pose for her. And I wondered how I’d feel when it came time to do so. I didn’t know how I was going to hide my desire for her then, and I could feel my cock pressing against my zipper, my heart pounding against my ribs. I was on the verge of stepping forward and kissing her, claiming her, but then she spun away.
“Let me just set up, and then we can get to work.” I put on some music, preparing the supplies we needed before inviting her to join me.
She stepped in front of me, filling my nose with her scent. As with every night we’d painted together, it was going to take all my willpower not to kiss her. But, hey, at least it was an effective way to silence my inner critic. I was so focused on the feel of her hand, the way her body curved to mine, that I couldn’t overanalyze every stroke of the charcoal across the paper.
We stayed that way for I didn’t know how long, her breath, her body in concert with mine. I tried to ignore the way my body felt electrified every time she was near. The way my dick was straining against my zipper to get closer to her. I was positive she could feel it, and when she pressed back against me—the movement unmistakable—I groaned.
My grip on her hand loosened, but I didn’t let go. Not when she leaned her head back against my shoulder. And not when I used my free hand to pull her even closer to me.
“Xander.” Her voice was breathless.
I splayed my hand over her ribs, using my thumb to stroke just beneath her breasts. She let out a heavy sigh, her breath shuddering as we stayed there, locked in time.
“I want to kiss you. God, I want to kiss you,” I said, holding her tightly to me.
After spending all afternoon with her, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I turned her to face me. And when I did, I saw the same desire reflected back at me.
I pulled her to me, slanting my lips over hers. She was stiff at first, but then she relaxed, giving in to the kiss. I threaded my fingers through her hair, sampling her like a fine wine. She was vivacious, effervescent, intense, and I couldn’t get enough of her.
She clutched at my shirt, kissing me just as desperately. She moaned, and it sparked a memory—that moment when she’d moaned in Professor Tate’s class. With that one sound, the reality of our situation sank in. She was a student. Not my student, perhaps, but she was a student at the school where I taught.
I took a few steps backward, knowing I needed to put some distance between us. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“No.” She shook her head, advancing on me until her face was inches from my chest. “You shouldn’t have stopped kissing me.”
Her lips glistened, the swollen petals begging me to kiss her again. I was torn between the desire to kiss her or draw her. And I’d never felt so consumed by my desire.
I dragged a hand through my hair. “Kate.” I sighed, trying to find the words. “You’re a student.”
She arched an eyebrow, stepping closer once more. “So, the ‘not my student’ rule only applies when you want me to pose for you?”
I rubbed my hand over my mouth, mostly to keep myself from kissing her again. “No
. I just… I want to be sure you’ve really thought this through. I’m a professor. I’m…older.”
She placed her hands on my chest. I relaxed beneath her touch, even though my body was still wound tight like a spring ready to explode.
“I don’t care. Do our roles bother you? Does our age difference?”
“No. I don’t give a fuck about either of those things.”
“Then what—” A look of uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “You don’t want me like that.”
“What?” I grasped her hands in mine. “Are you kidding?”
She bit her lip, her doe eyes peering up at me. I wondered if she could hear my heart because it felt like it might damn near beat out of my chest.
“Angel, I want you so fucking bad. I’ve wanted you ever since the first time I saw you.”
I wanted her, but it was more than that. I needed her. And I would’ve been concerned by how much I’d come to rely on her had all the blood not rushed to my dick, making it impossible to think.
She peered up at me, her gray eyes soft and pleading. “Take me, Xander. Please.”
Those words, and the way she looked at me—this woman was going to be my undoing.
Chapter Ten
He crushed my mouth with his, backing me toward the sofa as we raced to take each other’s clothes off. Shirts, pants went flying, and we couldn’t stop touching each other. When the backs of my knees hit the sofa, I sank down onto it.
Xander covered my body with his, pressing his lips, his hips to mine, his hard-on digging into me. Insistent. Needy. Wanting.
Or maybe that was just how Xander made me feel. Like a ball of need, like we were on the precipice of something both incredible and terrifying.
He kissed his way down my chest, and my nipples puckered against the cups of my bra. Oh god.
“You’re so beautiful, my angel.”
I softened at the term of endearment, but my cheeks heated, warmth flushing my skin as he ventured farther south. He kissed the sensitive skin on my stomach and sides, making me writhe and giggle.
“I’m so sorry.” I laughed, clutching at the couch so I wouldn’t try to cover myself with my hands. “I’m super—” I laughed when his scruff brushed against my skin again. “Ticklish.”
He glanced up at me, curls wild, grin askew. “Is that so?”
He ran his tongue along my stomach, lower toward my mound, which only made me giggle again. I covered my face with my hands, completely mortified. But this was new to me, and even though I was incredibly turned on—and ticklish—I was also anxious.
Xander propped himself up on his elbow. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything.”
“But I want to,” I said, hoping he’d realize how sincere I was. “I really, really do. But…” I bit my lip. “I need you to be patient. This is new to me.”
He smiled down at me, caressing my cheek with his thumb. “Am I your first?” His voice was gravelly when he spoke, though his gaze was tender.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I promise to go as fast or as slow as you need. I promise to make you feel good. Do you trust me?”
I stared into those bottomless blue eyes that had so captivated me since day one, and I knew the answer. “Yes.”
He slanted his mouth over mine, our tongues tangling, our legs intertwined. I forgot about anything and everything but the feel of him. The warmth of his skin where our bodies connected. The way he caressed my skin, as if he were in no rush.
He might be patient, but the need within me grew, and I found myself rocking against him. Despite the layers between us, the friction felt so good. Especially when he ran his hands over my breasts, squeezing and pinching them. But I wanted more. I wanted it all.
“Off. Now.” I tugged at his boxers.
He chuckled, barely breaking the kiss to say, “Yes, ma’am.”
He slid them over his hips, and his cock sprang out. It was…oh my god. It’s huge.
Another chuckle, this time darker, making me realize I’d said that aloud. But seriously, the thing was massive.
“May I?” he asked, running his finger along the top of my bra.
I sat up, pushing it off my shoulders before unhooking it and allowing it to fall. Even though he’d seen me naked before, he looked at me as if it were the first time. And I wondered if he’d always look at me that way—like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Somehow, I doubted it. At least, not if he knew the truth about the lies I’d been telling. But there’d be time to discuss that later. For now, I just wanted to enjoy this moment with him. Enjoy the fact that this incredibly handsome, talented man was interested in me. And not because of my last name or family wealth, but because of who I was.
“You are… My god, you’re breathtaking,” he whispered like a prayer.
I was too busy staring at his tattoos, tracing them with my fingers, exploring the smooth skin of his shoulders. He said I was breathtaking, but he was the one who was built like a god. Xander was no mere mortal, and everything about him rendered me speechless.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, feeling both incredibly intimidated and turned on.
“Not so bad?” His hands fluttered at my stomach, the slight movement tickling me. “Not so bad?”
“Nah. Especially considering how old you are.” His age didn’t bother me at all, but it was fun messing with him.
“Old. Old?” He grabbed my hips, pulling me on top of him. “You’re going to be glad I’m so ‘old’ after you benefit from my experience.”
“We’ll see.” I smirked.
I liked this more playful, aggressive side to him. I liked seeing him let go.
I slid over his erection, relishing the sensation. I wanted so badly to just…
“I want you,” I said, amazed at my brazenness. What was it about Xander that made me bold, confident, fearless? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I liked it. “I’m on the pill.”
“I’m clean, but I have a condom upstairs in my nightstand,” he said between kisses.
It was only a few steps away, but it sounded like miles. I didn’t want to be apart from him. I didn’t want to break this spell and let the moment slip away. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“Or we could…” I lifted up, gripping him at the base to position him, clearly suggesting that we forgo the condom.
His eyes darkened. “Are you sure? It’s only if you want to.”
I didn’t answer him with words. Slowly, with my eyes locked on his, his hands gripping my hips, teeth digging into his lips, I lowered myself.
“Oh fuck,” he said, dragging out the word as my muscles clenched and adjusted to his size.
I’d expected it to hurt, but it wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared. There was a little pinch, but then I quickly adjusted to the sensation.
Inch by delicious inch, I slid down his shaft until I felt so full, I thought I might burst. I shifted, wiggling my hips as I settled into the feeling of being so connected. So vulnerable.
“If you don’t stop moving like that,” he grunted, his fingers digging into my skin, “this is going to be over before it really gets started.”
I giggled, leaning down so my hair brushed against his chest. He closed his eyes, biting back a groan as I wiggled my hips a little more just to tease him. I’d never felt so powerful.
A few shaky breaths later, he growled, flipping us so that he was on top. His body pressed mine into the cushions, his scent surrounding me. I gasped when he thrust into me, his chest brushing against my nipples, his eyes intent on mine.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his brows furrowed with concern.
“Yes. More. Please,” I panted, feeling the pleasure building. I needed him to keep going, not stop.
I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer to me. And he sank into me, giving me all of him as he kissed me like the world might end.
�
�Fuck, you feel amazing. So tight.”
I kissed him just as passionately, clinging to this notion that I was the brave, confident woman he saw me as. And as my vision clouded with all the colors of the rainbow, I knew I’d never felt more free. More like myself than I was with Xander.
He threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling my mouth to his. His hands were everywhere—sliding down my back, gripping my butt, holding me closer to him. With every thrust, the intensity built.
“Oh god. Oh god,” I chanted, unable to do or say anything else.
I gripped the couch, needing to hold on to something for fear I’d float away. And as the orgasm came barreling through me, I screamed in ecstasy. Xander wasn’t far behind. His muscles clenched, abs rippling as he poured his release into me.
He fell beside me with a sigh, but he quickly pulled me onto his chest. His skin was warm beneath mine, his heart beating a strong, steady cadence. I could lie there forever.
“Are you okay?” His voice rumbled from deep in his chest, vibrating through his skin to me.
I laughed, feeling light. “I’m definitely okay.” I was more than okay. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know.”
I propped myself up on my elbow, admiring the angles of his jaw, the muscles of his chest. He was so beautiful, he seemed almost unreal. Like a sculpture and not a man.
“It’s not always like that?”
He shook his head, cupping my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, reveling in his warmth. “With you, it’s…something else.”
His words sent a thrill of excitement through me, and I settled back into his arms. With my cheek resting against his chest and our bodies intertwined, I listened to the steady beat of his heart. And I tried to enjoy this moment—instead of worrying about what happened next.
“Shit.” I stared at my phone, rereading the email for a third time. “Dear student, the add/drop deadline has now passed.” After that, the words became illegible.
Xander slid his arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong?”
Perspective (Love in LA Book 1) Page 8
