Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I’m just stuck and need some inspiration.” The glance Cam flicked over her doused her body with gasoline. “I think I know what could unstick me.”
“What?” Jo laced the query with caution.
“A completely different medium. A new subject.” He chewed the last of his momo and linked his hands behind his head, causing the muscles in his arms to flex. “Let me paint you.”
Jo’s hands clenched around the belt in her hands.
“What, like…like now?”
Cam’s eyes simmered with something hot and mysterious.
“Strip.”
The word lashed her libido like a whip. She had a feeling if she stripped, not much painting would get done.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I need it.” Cam’s eyes sobered and pled and she lost that battle. “Just painting. I promise. Please.”
Jo tossed the belt to the floor, undoing the few buttons holding her dress closed. She let the sleeves slide down her arms and the fabric pool around her feet. She didn’t look up but could feel heat from Cam’s eyes crawling over each bare limb she exposed. She wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take this.
“Um…”
“The bra and panties.” Cam’s voice had dipped and deepened, roughened. “Take them off, too.”
Jo’s fingers trembled over the front closure of her bra. She unsnapped the center, her breasts spilling free of the fragile cups. She tossed the costly scrap of silk and lace into the pile at her feet. She slid her thumbs under the strips of lace hugging her hips, rocking a little to shimmy the thong down her legs until it landed in wispy circles around her ankles.
She finally looked up. Cam’s eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, like he couldn’t linger on any one part of her but couldn’t look away for a moment. He met her eyes, and the air between them thickened so much Jo couldn’t swallow. The caged breath in her lungs rattled her chest.
“So, what’s the medium?” The question barely made it from her mouth she had so little air to support it. “Charcoal? Oil?”
Cam walked over to her, twisting their fingers together.
“You,” he whispered across her lips, licking into the corner of her mouth. “You’re the medium.”
He strode to the storage closet where he kept paints and supplies, returning with a tarp and several tubes of paint.
“Step on the tarp. This could get messy.” He slid his eyes down the length of her, spreading confidence over every inch of her body with the certainty that she pleased him. “I wish everyone could see how gorgeous you are like this, but I’d have to kill them.”
She grinned, reaching around his neck to bring him in for a kiss, but he pulled back, shaking his head.
“No. I said I wanted to paint you and I will.” He dropped a dirty whisper in her ear. “And then I hope you can clear your calendar because I’ll probably fuck you into next week.”
Ten minutes later, Jo wasn’t sure this was going to be as sexy as she had anticipated. When he was painting, Cam was very different from when he was horny. Apparently, he could subjugate the horny when it was time to paint. He laid out the rainbow of colored tubes, sat back on his heels, and rubbed his stubbly chin. Gone was the lust she was used to when she stood before him naked. She could have been a lump of clay, a block of ice, a waiting canvas.
And then he rubbed a cool dollop of paint onto her feet, and all the sexy came rushing back at the first touch of his hands. He covered her feet in blue and started sketching in the paint with his fingers. She glanced down, a grin taking over her face when she saw him looping laces on top of her feet and sketching a swoosh on each side.
“Running shoes.” He looked up at her from the floor, his eyes laughing and the wide mouth curling into a smile.
“And”—he moved his fingers in circles around her knees—“knee pads for the next time we go skating.”
He smoothed the cool blue paint onto her legs and up her thighs, painting long lines down the sides.
“Stilts for these long-as-forever legs. You never thought to model? You could have.”
Jo didn’t catch the grunt before it left her mouth.
“Nothing wrong with modeling. More power to them, but there’s too much to do for me to stand around and have my picture taken all day.” She smacked her own butt. “Besides, I’ve got too much junk in my trunk.”
“Ah, that ass.” He doled out a lascivious grin, turning her around until she faced away from him. She felt his fingers writing on both cheeks. He traced “M” and “I” on the left cheek, and “N” and “E” on the right.
“Yours, huh?” She laughed, but her heart squeezed around the possessive gesture. He usually marked her with bites and scratches and places tender from how fiercely he had gripped her, secret reminders she carried under her clothes all day of the tempest they were together. That word scrawled across her bottom was an erotic ownership she wished she could show the world.