Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(74)

“Do I have to paint a thing or a pattern, or can I just paint what I see?” he asked.

“And what you feel. There is no right or wrong.” It wouldn’t matter anyway. In the end, she would be able to tell how he really felt. Was he reeling her in for more benefits, or was Shay right, and he was hoping for more?

He dipped the brush back in the yellow and brought it up to her breast again. He did it slowly, giving himself time to think, and her time to move away if she chose. She chose to move closer instead, and lean into the brush.

The rough bristles touched her sensitive peak, the chill of the paint oddly erotic on her heated skin. He dragged the brush around her breast, and she moaned at the sensation, prickly and smooth, thoughtful yet bold. He finished with one breast and moved on to the other, painting it the same bright yellow, then connecting it with a band of orange.

The brush stopped and his forehead crinkled above his brows. “What I feel, right?”

She nodded and he smiled and dropped the brush. He squeezed different shades of orange and pink and red into a paper plate, until it looked like a brilliant swirl of colors.

“Good, because I like to feel my subject out.” Flattening his palms in the paint, Harper watched it push up through his fingers. One had orange the other pink. “And I feel I am much better with my hands than a brush.”

A fact she knew well.

Settling one hand low on her waist, he pulled her into him. “Do you know what I was going to paint you as?”

“No.”

He met her gaze. “A summer sunrise. Bright and warm and something people wake up to catch a glimpse of.”

Her breath caught, and a warm glow started in her chest and radiated out at his words. “That’s how you see me?”

“That’s how the world sees you, Harper. I’m just lucky enough to finally be in that world.”

Without another word, not that there were any that could follow that up, Adam brought his other hand up to cup her neck, then drew her in for a kiss. It was slow at first, gentle and coaxing as if he were reeling her in. Then she sank her fingers into his shoulders, letting him know that she was holding on for the ride, and things got real hot, real quick.

Their mouths slid together. His fingers, slick with paint, traced down her spine and over her curves, leaving a trail of heat and colors as he went.

Harper lost herself in the sensation of being seen, of being exposed for the art and cherished as a woman. She lost herself in Adam.

When was the last time she’d allowed herself to get lost in a man? Fully and completely?

Never.

She’d never gotten so lost that she couldn’t find footing. But with Adam holding her as if he couldn’t get enough, her whole world shifted, and the last thing she was worried about losing was her footing. Her heart was right there, ready to find its home.

“Sunshine,” he said against her lips. “You taste like sunshine.”

She didn’t know what it was about that statement, but the way he said it, the things his tone implied, stirred something inside of her. Started a chain of reactions that she was helpless to stop. Emotions and realizations that she didn’t want to stop.

Adam’s hands disappeared and she groaned at the lack of connection, but then they were back, with new paint and new direction. His hands came up to hold her breasts, weigh them, mixing the paint until it resembled the colors of a sunrise. She arched back, giving him all the room he needed to create—feel.

He followed her ribs down to her stomach, then her hips, cupping her ass as if he owned it. A jolt of electricity raced down her spine when he scooped her up and turned her around, arranging her until she was facing away, he was standing behind her, and his big body was nudging her legs apart.

His fingers danced down her arm, painting as they went, before lacing with hers. He drew her arm up and around his neck. He bit her shoulder, her neck, kissing his way to her ear. “Open your eyes, Harper.”

She did and noticed that he’d arranged their bodies so that they were centered with the mirror, her arms were out of his way, and he was completely and gloriously naked. Then she caught her reflection and everything seemed to still.

Her hair was messy, wet with paint and starting to curl again. Her eyes were wide, bright, and lit with passion. Her body was a fusion of colors—vibrant and bold, soft and sensual. But there was something else, a connection that glowed from the inside and sparked between them that spoke to a sexual need so strong it was visible, tangible.

Combustible.

“See all that pink,” he said, retracing his work. “That’s for your sweet romantic side that makes me smile. The yellow . . .” His hands dipped lower. “That’s for how you care, so easily and with abandon for your friends, your family. For me.” His hand slid between her legs and held. “The orange is for your uninhibited side. The part of you that is unique and bold and desperately wants to live loud. I picked the brightest orange because most people are so in awe of your sweet and giving side, they miss the adventurous one. And what a shame that is.”

Harper couldn’t breathe. She’d lived most of her life with some of her biggest pieces being shadowed and overlooked. Adam wasn’t just looking, he was seeing her, shining a light on her for the world to notice.

“You are so f*cking beautiful,” he said, leaving his hand between her legs and raising the other, the one that was painted with armor, to cup her breast. “I want you to watch how beautiful you are.”