Page 61 of Art of Love
Chapter 15
Jia
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He took his positionon the second level as the show started, and I did my usual walk and display.
With the reviews and buzz from Time Out, there seemed to be more people here tonight. This was the last week that we’d be doing this display, and Hunter and I hadn’t really talked about what we’d do next. There must have been a good two hundred people here, so many more than last week, but all I saw was him.
All I wanted was him. The heat of his gaze reached me like it always did when I looked at him, and that chemistry bounced between us, going insane.
The hour finished quick. It seemed like the first time that it went so fast.
As I made my way down to the basement, I knew he would follow me.
When I got down there, I wiped the paint off my face and neck first and shook the silver out of my hair. He’d used a spray paint tonight, so it made it easier to come out. It just looked like I’d sprayed glitter in my hair after.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps, then the door closed, and I heard the distinct sound of it being locked with the bolt at the top.
No one would come in and interrupt us.
I didn’t have to ask what the plan was, or what we were doing. It started now. Right now.
I turned to look at him and rested against the edge of the little table behind me.
He looked so handsome and delicious as he took his time to come closer. His hair flicked up at the ends, curling about his shoulders, brushing the crease of where the fabric to his long-sleeved T-shirt rolled up.
He came closer and ran his finger across my jaw, tracing the outline and smiling like he’d just discovered something amazing.
It was me. He made me feel like that was me, and I truly felt it.
“Take your clothes off for me, Jia.” His voice was low and sexy. Deep and masculine, strong, just like him.
I smiled and started with the zip to the dress. Pulling it down, I allowed it to drift down my body. I wasn’t wearing a bra because the dress came with a built-in one, so he got a good show of my breasts, which bounced invitingly toward him. His eyes scanned the length of me, and his gaze drank me in. When he stopped at the black lace thong I wore just for him, he smiled.
“Fuck, yes,” he breathed.
I kicked the dress aside and stood before him in my heels and panties, parts of me still covered in silver. Mainly my back and shoulders.
He came closer and ran his fingers over my breasts firsts, then over the flat of my stomach. He pushed me against the table and smiled.
“You’re beautiful, the best work of art I’ve ever seen in my life.”
That stunned me, for the meaning it held.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s true.”
