Page 137 of Infatuated as They Come
“Nah, I gotta give you this. Ineedto give you this,” he said, moving a handinto his jeans pocket, and when he uncurled his fingers, I was looking back at my necklace—unbroken and perfectly put together.
“You fixed it!” I sat up straight as he let it gently fall into my palm, the pendant locked to the chain once again.
“Here, let me put it on for you.” He took it from my hand and looped his arms around me, his handsome face right in front of mine, and I couldn’t help but steal a kiss as he secured the chain around my neck.
My hand lowered, giving the pendant a squeeze. That spot on my chest had felt so empty without it. “I meant it when I said it was my favorite gift ever.”
“You have no idea how happy it makes me when you say that,” he said. “God, I really missed seeing you wear it.”
His hands lowered and stayed firm on my legs, and for the next hour he massaged at them, his fingers working his magic as I felt my eyes slowly close. It had been a long day of practice and classes, but the end of it had truly been beyond lovely. “Thank you for tonight,” were the only words I was able to get out as tiredness swept over me.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore at that point and the only thing I could really register was Sawyer’s touch. He tucked his hands under me and picked me up with ease, and the next thing I knew, I was feeling our hoard of pillows as thick, soft blankets swept across my body.
“You get some sleep,” Sawyer murmured.
“Are you sleeping too?” I asked.
“Yeah, princess. I’ll be right here.”
I felt the bed dip and then Sawyer’s broad chest pressed up against my back, his strong arms circling around my waist. He tightened his grasp on me, his nose nuzzling into my neck as he drawled out a low, gravelly, “I love you so much.”
Nothing was better than this.
Chapter 35
Holly
“Holly, would you stop moving?”
“Well, when can I see it?”
“Just wait a minute.”
“I’ve been waiting forliterallytwelve hours.”
“Literally?”
I was exaggerating ever so slightly. A lot, really—it had only been an hour or two. I loved watching Sawyer paint, to see him get lost in concentration as whatever colors and images flew through his talented brain, but I was dying to see what he had come up with after he had insisted that I pose for him for his newest piece in the studio. You’re my favorite thing to paint, he told me in the morning before we made the walk to Brooklyn.
I groaned. “Yes.Literally. Just show me. Please.”
“Alright, alright.” Sawyer’s eyes were still zeroed in on the canvas as he grabbed the rag in front of him. He gave his hands a wipe before taking a step back, head tilting at his work before he finally met my gaze. “Come take a look. It’s not finished yet, though.”
I hopped off the stool and rounded the easel so I was standing next to Sawyer, and then my lips parted to gasp when I took in what was before me. He said it wasn’t done yet, but it already looked very close to being finished. The sides were a lush green, a few pink and red flowers there at the bottom and some at the top right corner, all of that creating a border for what was in the middle: me lying down on a red blanket with my hairall sprawled out, my dress painted a pretty purple.
I could feel my skin getting hot as I took in every last inch of it. I knew the day he had painted, the exact moment he was recreating, and I couldn’t believe how he managed to remember it all without so much as a photo. There I was in painted form. A slight blush on my cheeks, hair cascading around me in long waves. He even got every last one of the details of my dress right: from the lace trim along the hem to the exact hue of it.
“I really loved that day,” he murmured behind me. “And I know it got a bit messy at the end, but everything before that was pretty damn good.”
Pulling my gaze away from the painting, I turned around to meet his face. “It’s really beautiful,” I said. “And I hate it when you make me say that, because then I feel so conceited.”
Chuckling, he put his hands on my hips and brought me to him. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s gorgeous. Everything you paint is gorgeous.”
“You’re my most gorgeous subject, though,” he said, leaning down to peck my lips.
“Wait, this isn’t even the pose I was doing,” I said, looking over my shoulder and back at the painting.
