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Groaning again, I press into her more so she feels what she still does to me. I never want her to forget again.
Slowing our passionate kiss, I kiss her cheek and up to the shell of her ear. “I’ll see you soon,” I whisper.
Stepping back from her, I see her eyes are still closed. I capture the image in my mind of her like that, tucking it away for a later day.
* * *
STELLA
Oh my holy, am I nervous. James and I set a time for him to be here, and it’s in three minutes. I’m so nervous waiting for him to arrive.
I don’t know what to expect. Will he just draw me and leave? Will he stay? Will things escalate? Do I want them to? Like this?
So many questions of uncertainty swirling in my head as I wait.
A knock hits the hotel door, followed by the beep of the key card sliding in and the click of the door opening and closing. My breathing picks up with my heart. When he turns around, our eyes lock.
I like him like this. Relaxed. In jeans that hug him in all the right places and a Henley that does that same with his chest and arms. His hair is more unruly with a more rugged and worn look. He is dripping sex in front of me.
“Hi.”
A smile plays on his lips before he lets go and it splits his handsome face. “Hi.”
I bite my lip, nervous about what to do next.
“Don’t be nervous.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Easier said than done.”
“Are you hungry? Do you want to order room service?”
“No.” I notice the bag in his hand. “Where do you want me?”
“Diving right in, huh?”
“Well, it is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Huffing a laugh, he sets his bag down, pulling out a sketch pad and pencils. “I guess so.”
“So?” I ask with a questioning brow raised. “Direct me where to go. What do you want me to wear? Is this—”
“Take it off,” he interrupts me. My eyes meet his, and his flash with desire. “Is that okay?” he asks softer.
Swallowing down my unease, my shaky fingers go to the button of my jeans, popping it before the sound of the zipper fills the room around us. Sliding them down my hips and legs, I toss them to a corner, standing in a pair of lacy pale pink panties. Crossing my arms in front of me, I pull the hem of my shirt up and over my head, revealing my matching lacy see-through bra.
Slowly, my eyes move to find his again. I watch in rapt interest as his throat bobs and he swallows. His darkened eyes drink me in, trailing up and down my exposed body. My arms begin to cross in front of me again to shield my body from him.
“Don’t,” he rasps, stopping my movements. “You’re perfect.” He says those two words with such awe and wonderment in his softened voice.
“Where do you want me to sit or whatever?”
It’s like my question breaks through the fog he was in. He goes into action then, moving furniture around in the room. Pulling a robe from the closet, he tells me to put it on but not to tie it, leaving me still somewhat exposed.
He directs me to sit on a chair in the corner, peering out the window while holding a cup of coffee in my hands. The robe has fallen down one of my shoulders, and my breasts are only partially covered by the soft fabric.
He flicks lights and lamps on and off until he’s happy with the lighting that’s cast in the room and on me. He sits and stands, pacing around the room until everything is set to his satisfaction.
He smiles at me before bending his head and pressing his pencil to paper, making the first languid stroke. Quickly, he’s lost in his art, and I’m lost in him. I could watch him like this for hours. And I do.
