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I shrug. “I’m the exact opposite of those self-acclaimed art critics you seem to hate so much.”
“I don’t hate them. I just hate that they’re so…logical. Art is felt, seen, with the heart. Art is not a physics equation or calculus. We can’t always see the world through our mind, we have to try to see it through our heart too sometimes. Their analysis takes all the fun out of it.”
She moves closer to the glass, leaning forward and peering at the lower part. Her ass is thrust out, her hair shimmering under the bright lights. The urge to grab her in my arms sweep over me so strongly that I have to take a step back. My hands ball into a fist and I take a deep breath as memories of our night together comes back.
She makes an outline of the painting with her finger, a small smile creeping on her face.
“Fits perfectly. Touch it.”
I place my hand on the print near hers, and we smile at each other.
“Feel that?” Her voice is low and soft. She shuts her eyes. Long lashes rest on her cheeks. She exhales loudly, then…
Maybe I shouldn’t be here.
She turns toward me, lips moving, but I can’t hear any of her words. Her eyes narrow, and she moves closer.
“Ian?”
I blink.
“I think we should go back.”
She purses her lips, looking away.
“You don’t want to be with me. I mean, here.”
“On the contrary. We shouldn’t…” I run a hand through my hair. Why’s this so hard? Wanting someone I know I can’t – and shouldn’t – have. Is offering to help her a bad idea?
You’re helping yourself too.
“Why?” She takes a step forward. “What are you afraid of?”
“Kaylee.” I grab her shoulders, stopping her. “Are you drunk?”
She searches my eyes. “Not with alcohol.”
Her breathing turns harsh, and her gaze drops to my lips. This is ridiculous. I should step around her and leave instantly. Instead, my heart pounds against my rib cage, and I stare at her full mouth.
“We shouldn’t do this.” My voice sounds strange to my ears.
Her lips part slightly, and I find myself drawn to her.
“Fuck.”
Before I can pause to reconsider, my lips are on hers. She moans into my mouth, throwing her arms around me. The world fades into silence. I can only hear the beating of my heart, her soft sighs, and nothing else. My hand moves to her waist. I press her against me, wanting so badly to feel all of her. My fingers weave into her hair, caressing her scalp, while savoring the taste of her mouth. She’s warm and soft in my arms.
“We’re doing this again,” she whispers when we come up for air. “I know we agreed not to.”
All it took was a few minutes spent alone with her for us to break that agreement.
“I’m sorry.” I press my forehead against hers, staring at her lips and fighting the urge to kiss her again. “We should go.”
Her eyes search mine as she breathes harshly. I move my hand through her hair, and she gasps, shutting her eyes.
“Ian –”
A part of me wants to end this. Another part urges me on.
