And I just stare.
And stare.
And stare.
Dashing the heels of my hands in my eyes and blinking away the wetness blurring my vision, I take a step closer. It’s a painting, obviously. And I might be biased, but it’s quite possibly the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen.
Which sounds really egotistical, because the subject of the painting is me. I’m standing in the middle of a typical New York street, the Brooklyn Bridge looming behind me. My body faces the bridge, and I’m looking over my shoulder at whoever is viewing the painting, a teasing smile on my face. But it’s not the bridge or the street or even me that makes the painting breathtaking. It’s that the dress I’m wearing is made purely of flowers. Hundreds of them, the texture so detailed I can almost feel the velvety petals. They wrap around my bare back, trailing down into a train that spills over the bottom half of the canvas.
It’s absolute perfection.
“Bridge and Blooms,” I breathe when I finally manage to make my voice work. I’ve stopped trying to stem the tears, letting them flow freely over my cheeks.
“Bridge and Blooms.” Jack steps over to me, taking one of my hands in his. “Do you like it?”
I choke out a laugh. “Do I like it? Jack, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And not just because it’s me. That’s like the least beautiful thing about it.”
He takes my other hand and pulls me into his arms. “Not sure I agree with that assessment, sweet pea.”
I turn my cheek, resting it against his chest so I can stare at the painting some more. “Talk about the best gift ever.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.” I tilt my head up to kiss him. “And I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Ugh. We’re making me nauseated.” I pull away from him a little, a wicked glint in my eye. “I did get you something else, though.” I run my hands through his curls before dragging them down to his chest.
“Really?” His hands slide down to my hips, pressing them into his.
“I got tested two weeks ago. All clean.” My fingers slip under the edge of his button-down shirt, traveling up his back.
His breath catches in his chest and he hardens against my belly. “Oh yeah?” The two words come out in a hoarse gasp. “Me too. I mean, it wasn’t two weeks ago, but I’m clean. Also clean. Totally clean.”
I bite my lip because he’s adorable when he can’t form a coherent sentence. “And I refilled my birth control prescription while I was there.” I move my hands around to his stomach, lightly tracing his lean abs.
His hips press into mine. “Please tell me this means what I think it means.”
I let my hand wander down to the front of his jeans, cupping his length in my palm. “Shall we head downstairs?”
He grabs my hand and tugs me out of the studio.
We practically fly down the stairs and into my room, Jack shutting the door behind us and pressing me up against it in a repeat of his earlier move from downstairs. The urgency is hot and desperate, but his kiss is slow and consuming. He links our hands together, bringing them above my head while his hips thrust into mine until I whimper.
I break free of his hold, my fingers rapidly working through the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his arms and trailing my handsover his shoulders and up through his curls. He tugs my sweater over my head, pausing for a minute to admire my fanciest bra, which I donned in the hope we would end up here. He lowers his head, licking along the lace edges before sucking my nipple through the sheer fabric.
His mouth moves down farther, softly licking and nibbling the skin of my stomach, and he cups my ass in his exquisite hands before his nimble fingers unbutton my jeans and slide the fabric down my legs. His lips embark on a northward exploration, kissing me everywhere as he makes his way back to my mouth.
My hands travel to the front of his jeans, palming his hard length once again, delighting in the growl he releases, rumbling against my lips. I move to unbutton his pants, but he nudges my hand away.
“Not yet,” he mutters into my neck. His arms reach around me and he unhooks my bra, his fingers teasing and pinching me as I toss it to the floor. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking until my hips thrust against him. It’s frantic and breathless and hot as fuck.
He lowers himself to his knees in front of me, hooking his thumbs in my panties and dragging them down my legs, helping me step out of them. He kisses his way up until he is right where I want him most. One of my legs gets thrown over his shoulder and then his mouth is on me, licking up my center, swirling over my clit.
My head falls back against the door, and I grasp onto the knob, anything to keep me from collapsing to the ground as he devours me. The fingers of my free hand tangle themselves in his curls, and I can’t seem to stop my hips from rolling against his mouth. As soon as he slips a finger inside of me, my nerves explode and I cry out my release.
Jack rises, catching me before I fold to the ground. He places soft kisses along my collarbone and up my throat, finally landing back on my mouth. This time when I move to undo his pants, he lets me, kicking them off as we stumble over to the bed.
