Page 34 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
“What?” she asks softly, staring at me through her set of short lashes.
“Look at me like you’re thinking about it.” I prove, only to have her getting closer. Her legs spread until she lays them across my lap, her hips ending up on one of my thighs. My hand flies to the curve of her pelvis, tugging the skin with the closing of my palm when she adds something more.
“Right, because you don’t think. Youdo.”
“Veronica—”
Her mouth claims mine, a tender capture of my lower lip. Her hands frame my neck, thumbs a soft pressure against my jaw as she kisses me with a world of delicate intention. Despite her gentle touch, a tremor runs through me, my hands instinctively tightening on her hips, urging her closer. Our initial embrace lacks perfect unison—her kiss a patient unfolding, mine a rush of heat—but I let her lead the dance. I succumb to the soft persuasion of her mouth until her tongue, a delicate invitation, traces the curve of my upper lip, and I finally open myself to her.
Harsh breaths escape our bodies, lungs wishing to understand what our brains and hearts are trying to tell each other. I move to get more of a glimpse of her, laying her down on the bed opposite to the headrest, where her waves expand beside her like a halo. Her mouth has gained a reddened color, swollen as if she had eaten spices, glistening under the soft lights with the gleam of the slightest bit of saliva. A huff leaves her lips when plopping on the hard bed, one of my knees propping her legs open so I can settle there. Not getting too close to keep the kiss passionate yet respectful enough, though my hands spread on her waist, wishing to get another savor of her mouth.
I’m swept away as I kiss her, unable to fully process the intensity of the moment. Kissing has never felt this personal and deeply gratifying, as if something I once thought of as innocent and playful has unexpectedly become an interesting new addiction, entirely because of her. I relish on the curve of her bottom lip, on the way she opens her mouth and trembles out a sigh before capturing my mouth once again. She doesn’t stop for more than a few seconds, tugging at the back of my hair to pull me closer, toying around with the strands and messing them up in a way that had me thinking how they would feel like as I went lower on her body, tasting all of her, feeling like she was mine just for a mere second...
Everything about her screams perfection.
Music to my ears is the moan that she lets out when I stop kissing her mouth, trailing open-mouthed touches down her cheeks towards her neck before biting on the skin there gently, just along her pulse. She’s just as caught up in the moment as I am. To my surprise, the hand that was laced in my hair now glides down my back before she nudges me onto my side. Her leg follows, intertwining with mine. Fuck, I just hope she doesn’t feel me getting hard—
“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long...” I tell her, pressing my forehead to hers, only to receive another kiss. Her hands dip under my shirt, though not going that high up, only caressing the skin of my abdomen before pulling away.
“Are you okay with just kissing?”
Respectful of her decision, I am, but my mind is definitely going through all the bases instead of just settling on what we have right now. Flawless, it is, but I can only imagine how much better everything else must feel. Cherishing and worshipping her right here, in the rain, sounds inviting.
“If it’s with you, anything is okay.” I confess with a soft smile, twirling her hair as I kiss her again. Her hands settle on my abdomen, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the frantic beat of my heart, the obvious message of my desire. If she does, she remains perfectly still, neither encouraging more nor pulling away from our shared closeness. “You’re so beautiful...”
She smiles into our kiss before pulling back slightly for a soft peck. Her thumb then dances lightly across my lower lip before she snuggles her face against my chest, a tender chuckle escaping her. “You say it so seriously.”
“Because I mean it.” I tell her, pulling her body away so we can exchange a glance. Those lips are tainted red just because of me. And as long as I’m here, it will only be my doing. “And I’d make it a routine to remind you if you needed it. You’re absolutely beautiful, inside and out.”
Not as talkative as I am, she dips her face until we are kissing again. This is enough, at least for now. And I get lost in time as I learn more noises from her, like how her breathing grows ragged when I kiss behind her ear, or how she can’t handle it when I bite down on her bottom lip. Without knowing, we lose our nights to ourselves, stopping when sleep overtakes us, kisses growing softer, more spaced, and delicate.
The rain continues pouring when my eyes close, definitely bothered by her, but also incredibly comfortable as we keep our legs intertwined, using that awful bed to share the best night of our lives.
?CHAPTER TWELVE
VERONICA
