I swallow dry, trying to unravel the swirl of emotions in my chest.
Keeping the blindfold on is the hardest thing because I want to see what he's doing. The expression on his face when he’s painting. How bright his eyes go when he thinks of me.
There’s no mistaking we’re both growing harder the longer he keeps going. The advantage of our almost silence and my lack of vision is that I can hear all of his sounds.
My breath catches when he leans forward and our groins touch. Does he want to give in as much as I do? His breath is so close to mine that I feel its warmth and the smell of the coffee he made for us earlier.
“Please, Arlo,” I beg as I run my hands tentatively from his legs up to his waist.
He leans back, and I miss the heat from his body.
Wait. Has he taken his shirt off?
I hear the sound of brushes being placed in a cup with water.
“Are you finished?”
“With you?” he asks. “I’m just getting started.”
I try to remove the scarf to claim him, but he catches both my hands and pins them above my head. When his lips touch mine, a million sparks explode behind my eyes, and I give in to the desire that’s been building between us since the day we met.
He presses his erection against mine, and I groan. I need more skin-to-skin contact.
“I need to see you,” I say.
He pulls back and removes the scarf. I have to open and close my eyes a few times before they adjust to the light, but once they do, all I see is the most beautiful sight.
Arlo has taken his shirt off, and I can see the intricate pattern of tattoos over one side of his chest. It's like one large mandala design with the center directly over his heart and spreading down his chest and up to his shoulder. It looks like henna, but I can see it's a permanent tattoo, and I wonder if he had it done in India as a way to remember his time there.
“You’re so beautiful.” I trace the lines like I’m completing a game of Connect the Dots. He shivers and closes his eyes. When he opens them, all I see is fire and need.
Whatever happens tonight is going to change me. I know it.
“Levi.” His voice is hoarse. I’m going for the button on his jeans when I look down and see what he’s painted all over my chest.
I gasp at the detail. The colors. The truth. He moves from my lap when I try to stand up so I can go over to a tall mirror he has in the corner of the room.
Over my chest on the left side is a ladybug with her wings untucked as if she’s just landed on my heart. Ava. The colors are so bright and the way he's done the shading makes it look so realistic.
Next to the ladybug, there’s a sheaf of wheat tied with a golden ribbon. Liv.
The rest of my chest and belly is a mix of colors that don’t make particular sense. Purple, red, yellow, pink, green, all mixing together. It’s like a blurred image of a heart, but it’s hard to tell. I keep staring at it until I see it. The innocence of a child’s eyes.
My throat becomes tight as I struggle to keep my emotions together. Two years with Clive, and I never felt as seen as I do after knowing Arlo for only a few weeks.
I turn around. Arlo stands just behind me, looking forlorn as if he’s done something wrong. I never want to see that expression on him again.
Words aren’t enough to thank him for breaking my last wall and freeing the Levi I’ve always been but have been hiding away because I’m always either pushed aside or someone else runs.
I break the distance, not caring that the paint on my chest might transfer to his. It doesn’t matter because what’s under my skin is already there. Whether he wants it or not, my heart is breaking free from my chest and burrowing into his.
“I hope there’s a bed somewhere close because you deserve better than a couch, and I want to show you exactly how I feel about the way you see me.”
He chuckles, and some of his shyness dissipates.
“Couches can be fun though,” he says.
“They can, but not tonight. Tonight, I need a bigger surface area.” I kiss him until we’re both breathless. “Tonight, I need to feel every inch of your skin against mine.”
