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“You chose my room because you knew no one would come look for you here,” Willow accuses.
Iris stretches her arms over her head before she sits up, pushing her hair away from her face. “You’re right. Hey, at least we’re not naked.”
“Iris,” Brooks warns, though he sounds pained.
“Calm down, Brooksie.” She hops off the bed, patting me on the arm as she walks by. “Have fun with your girlfriend.”
They’re gone in seconds, and Willow makes sure and turns the lock into place on the door. “I’m sure they’ve had sex in my bed before.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Just a hunch.” A tiny shiver runs through her as she approaches me, her lips curling into a seductive smile. “We can forget about them though.”
She reaches for me but I rest my hands on her hips yet again, stopping her. “I want to see your room first.”
The disappointment on her face is obvious. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard enough about this room over the last few months. I want to see it.” It’s true. I want to check it out, even though I’m not a big art advocate or whatever you want to call it. But I know enough to realize that she’s got some valuable art pieces in here, and her mom told me she’s an eclectic collector.
My girlfriend is a mystery. She keeps me guessing. She surprises me with every little bit she shares about herself, and I’m pretty sure I fall more and more in love with her every day.
I’m a lucky man.
I wander around her massive bedroom with her following close behind, examining the paintings on the wall. The photos tucked away in the corner of the mirror that sits above a vanity table. One of the photos is of us from homecoming night, me still in my uniform and her looking like the goddamn queen she is wearing her crown. There’s another photo of me and her and Iris and Brooks from the annual Halloween party.
And my new favorite photo of us after we won our latest playoff game. I’m a sweaty, dirty mess and she’s beautiful, pressing her cheek to mine for a selfie, the both of us smiling and looking so damn happy.
“Come see this piece.” She grabs my hand and drags me away from her mirror, stopping in front of a massive painting. As I study it though, I realize it’s not a painting at all. It looks like someone kissed a canvas over and over again in different shades of lipstick. “This has hung in my room since I was a baby.”
“Did your mom make this for your dad?” I send her a questioning look.
“No.” She shakes her head, grinning at me before she turns her attention to the piece. “It was created by someone else. A woman kissed this canvas repeatedly for the artist, with every shade of Chanel lipstick that exists. My mother fell in love with it when she was young, and she told my dad about it.”
I grab her hand and pull her so she’s standing in front of me, her perfect ass snug against my dick, the both of us facing the art piece. “Does it have a name?”
“It was called A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime, and when my mother first wanted it, it belonged to someone else who wasn’t willing to sell it. Once my father found out that she wanted this piece, he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. He got the piece for her and gave it to her on her birthday, which is on Christmas,” Willow explains, leaning her head against my chest.
“How much did he spend?”
“Over a million dollars.”
I whistle. That’s a lot of money—and competition. How can I live up to that? “When exactly did he give it to her?”
“When she turned eighteen.”
I’m incredulous. I can’t imagine spending that kind of money on a gift for Willow because I don’t necessarily have that kind of money—my parents do. But I’m not a Lancaster so there’s the difference. “Are you serious?”
She laughs. “My dad is all about the grand gesture.”
Now we’re talking mega competition. “I love a grand gesture.”
“Do you now?”
I start kissing her neck while she keeps staring at the art hanging on her wall. “Definitely.”
“I wanted to take it to school and hang it in my dorm suite, but my parents said absolutely not. I suppose I don’t blame them, but I miss looking at it every day.”
An idea forms in my head but I keep it to myself. “I wouldn’t let you take it to school either if I spent a million dollars on it.”
