Page 110 of When Ben Loved Tim
“You really like it?” he asks after kissing me.
“Yeah, of course!” I turn toward the canvas again. “It’s so flattering.”
“It’s really not,” Tim says with a chuckle.
“My lips aren’t so luscious.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let me make a quick adjustment.”
Tim picks up the paintbrush and palette. He turns to me with a critical eye, as if wanting to get the details just right. Before I know it, the wet end of a paintbrush collides with my lips.
“What’s the hell?” I splutter.
“Much better!” Tim cackles, spreading his arms wide to protect the canvas. “Now you match the painting.”
I touch my lips experimentally and see globs of green paint on the tips of my fingers. “It’s not even the right color!”
Tim raises his palette. “Want me to try again?”
“I have a better idea,” I say, taking a step forward. “You’ve really got me in the mood. Pucker up!”
“No way!” Tim says while retreating.
I chase him around the studio, refusing to give up until I’ve got him backed into a corner of the couch.
“Just one kiss,” I negotiate. “Then I’ll stop.”
“Fine!” he says, squinching his shut eyes in anticipation.
I grab his head in my hands and rapid-fire kiss his lips, cheeks, forehead… anywhere I can manage until he pushes me away.
“You cheated!” he growls.
“All’s fair in love and war,” I retort, plopping down next to him. “You look ridiculous, by the way.”
“I think you’re hotter than ever,” Tim says, grinning at me. “I want to paint you.”
“You already did.”
“No, I want to paintyou.”
I shake my head. “What is this, the county fair?”
“I’m thinking more than just your face,” Tim says, pulling on the T-shirt I’m wearing.
I laugh and resist him. We wrestle on the couch, which is hot, but he’s determined.
“Please,” Tim says.
“Fine.”
“Cool. Take off your shirt.”
I comply and feel ridiculous sitting there on the couch while he grabs his art supplies. Tim makes it interesting for me. He teases my nipples with an unladen paintbrush, which starts to turn me on, until he glances at my face and gets distracted. Watching him work this close up is intense! I notice how he sometimes holds his breath when being especially careful. Or he’ll often lean back, his eyes narrowing critically before he tries again. Tim makes me sit up and puts his legs to either side of mine, facing me as he begins to paint on my chest. When he settles into my lap, I grind my boner against his butt.
Tim laughs. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Fine by me,” I admit, preferring our usual dynamic.
