Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
ISABEL
Buoyed by a great day bonding with the girls and seeing Mama, I skip into the studio and find Kieran already there, sorting through his tools.
“Hi,” I greet, grinning. I’ve missed him all day. I can say that, right? I did miss him. After all the nights we’ve spent together, I feel closest to him out of everyone.
“Hey, you. Let me get out of your way so you can get ready.”
He hands me the blanket and steps out of the room.
I slide the sleeves of my top down my arms and hold the silk against my chest. I wrap the blanket around myself, let the silk pool around my waist, and sit on the stool, resuming my pose from the night before.
I shift uncomfortably. Then again. Nuh-uh. Something doesn’t feel right about it.
I move to sit on the floor, instead folding my arms over the seat and resting my head on it. Much better.
In a minute, Kieran knocks and pokes his head through the door. The sight of him takes my breath away.
Something clicks in me then. Washes over me like a tsunami. I don’t have any excuse for it: no drug, no alcohol, nothing pushes me over the edge to do what I’m about to do.
“Kieran,” I say, watching as he moves slowly toward me—or, well, the easel.
He rifles through the paint brushes in the easel’s drawer. “Hm?”
“Do you want me in the blanket or without?”
He freezes. My words hang in the air between us. There is nothing, no sound except my own heartbeat ringing in my ears.
Kieran’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His gaze flits between me and the canvas. I’m burning up. If he’s going to reject me, I wish he’d just do it already.
Kieran lifts the canvas from the easel and sets it aside. “Without,” he says, moving quickly to the other end of the room to pick out an empty canvas and replace the other one. If I thought my heart was racing before, it’s definitely winning the Grand Prix now.
I cup my breasts and let the fabric slide off my shoulders. He’s busy aligning the canvas but does a double take when he sees me. Then he can’t look away.
Everything has been building up to this moment. I know it, he knows it. Nobody else in the world needs to know it; nobody else in the world matters, to begin with. It’s as if we’re the only two people left, and there’s nothing else to do but this.
“Should I take my shorts off, too?” I ask.
“Fuck me,” he breathes out. “Really? I mean, yeah, shit, of course, if that’s what you want, sure. Go ahead. Really?”
That makes me laugh. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I want you to,” he says, nodding vigorously. “Fuck’s sake, I want you to.”
I slowly peel my hands from my chest. Kieran’s eyes widen and he swiftly turns around.
“No, it’s okay,” I say, feeling brave. Kieran’s interest and support expand my comfort zone in ways that other men’s attention have only made me retreat into myself. “Watch.”
Slowly, he faces me. I’m delighted by the look on his face when his eyes land on my exposed chest. I glance down and feel a flush creep up my neck.
There, my breasts, nipples perking from the cold.
I hear him draw in a deep breath and know he’s transfixed like I’ve got him under some kind of spell.
I like it. I like that he’s drawn nudity before, but that it’s me who elicits this kind of response from him.
As if he’s seeing a woman’s body for the first time.
His eyes snap up to meet mine as if worried about disrespecting me. I offer him a smile. Heat grows between my thighs; I’m not unfamiliar with arousal—self-love is important—but I’ve never felt it as deeply or as intensely as I do at this moment.
“It’s okay,” I say again. “Go on.” I get on my knees and push my clothes farther down, hooking my panties along with it. I have to sit back and lift my legs as I peel the clothes off them, no doubt flashing him with my glistening center.
“Jesus Christ, Isabel,” Kieran breathes out.
I set my legs down and reclaim my former position. “This okay?” I ask, sweeping my hair back behind my shoulders. “Not too distracting?”
“No.” Liar. I can see his bulge growing in his pants. I smile innocently at him and hold my pose. It takes him a second to remember he’s meant to do more than just stare. He grabs his pencil and sets off to work.
Somewhere in the middle I grow comfortable in my nudity; Kieran falls into a deep focus, as if he has slipped under a trance. He doesn’t come up for air until two hours later, when he finishes. My legs had fallen asleep, so I stretch gratefully when I’m given the go signal.
I take the blanket and wrap it around myself again when he beckons me over to look at his work.
“It’s just a sketch,” he says. There I am, naked, staring back at myself with the most gentle of smiles.
I’ve always hated my body; compared to girls like Natalia, I felt I had no right to show it off.
But on the canvas, I see it the way Kieran does: like it’s a work of art, curves sculpted by a master artist, all soft skin and supple flesh striped by stretch marks.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I say, chuckling.
“It’s second-rate compared to the real thing,” he says. “Are you okay with me painting this? I mean, if I make it part of the collection?”
I picture a gallery like the one in the Aranaz Museum, crowds of people ogling at my naked body. “Is it okay if this one’s just for you?” I ask.
He nods. “Y-Yeah, of course.”
“You can scrap it if it’s a waste of materials.”
“You’re kidding.” He reaches for my clothes and hands it over.
Embarrassment and disappointment flood me.
“I’ll step out,” he says, rising from his seat and exiting the studio. Hastily, I slip on my clothes. What the fuck was I thinking? I’ve made such a fool of myself. I should ask for the canvas and burn it, the only proof of my stupidity.
I knock on the glass to tell Kieran to come back inside.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say, eager to wrap this up so I can pretend this never happened.
“You’re leaving already?” he asks.
“It’s late.”
“Right, of course.”
We stand there, staring at each other. I glance back at the canvas and grimace.
“I can toss it,” he says. “Really. I can paint over it right now.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I should go.”
He steps out of my way so I can pass. I make it a few steps toward the door when he says, “Can I be honest?”
I turn to look at him.
“I don’t want you to go. I mean, not yet.”
“It’s late,” I say again, meanwhile my body’s screaming, beg me to stay, beg me to stay.
“I don’t understand,” he says. “Did I do something wrong? I thought—”
“No, no, you—I read it all wrong. I don’t know why I did that. Seriously. I’m sorry for making things weird. I shouldn’t have forced you to—”
“You didn’t force me to do anything,” he cuts me off.
“But I got naked for you, and you wanted me clothed.”
“What?” he scoffs. “No. No, it’s not like that. I just didn’t want to be presumptuous; make you stay naked long after I’ve done my part. I like you naked. I mean, I like you naked or clothed. Both. Shit, I’m bad at this.”
I press my lips together, feeling so confused I might cry.
Kieran steps forward and reaches out a tentative hand to touch my cheek. “Stay,” he pleads. Then: “Shoot.” He uses his other hand to swipe at my skin. “Got charcoal on you. Sorry.”
I lift a hand to touch his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t. I like it. It’s—it’s like I stepped out of your sketch. Came to life.”
His breath hitches in his throat. He takes his charcoal-dusted hand and rubs my chin. Traces the outline of my shoulder and down my arms.
“Stay,” he whispers. He’s so close I can see every freckle on his face. I can feel his breath on my skin. “Don’t go yet.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask quietly.
“Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want.”
I tip my chin upwards, nudging his nose with mine. “Can you kiss me?” I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more in my entire life.
He nods. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m certain.”
Kieran smooths his hands down my sides and snakes them around my back, pulling me close. He sinks his lips into mine, first in a gentle kiss, then one that grows in fervor.
He parts my lips with his tongue, and I drink him in, pressing my body closer, closer, needing more and more.
It’s nothing like the kiss with Jaime. It’s better.
Kieran sets me down on the floor and nudges my legs open so he can kneel between them. I clench my eyes shut. He sucks on my neck, and a moan bursts through me.
“Wait, Kieran,” I say.
He pulls back to kiss my lips again. He presses his bulge into me, making me arch my back into him.
“Hmm?”
“Wait, wait,” I say, patting his shoulder. He draws back, arms braced on the floor to hover over me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I—I’m not ready,” I say.
“Oh.” He rolls off me. “That’s okay. We don’t—we don’t have to.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” I say, turning onto my side so I can hug him. “Just—is this really where we want to do it for the first time? On the floor in your studio? Don’t you want it to be a little more… I don’t know, special?”
He lays his head back and breathes heavily. “I want whatever you want, Isabel.”
I push up and climb onto his lap, straddling him. I set my hands on his chest. “I want it to be special. For both of us. And—I want us to work our way up to it. Be a hundred percent sure it’s what we both want.”
He smirks, setting his hands on my hips. “Oh, I’m very sure.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing.
He guides my hips into rolling motions over his bulge. “What about this?” he asks. “Is this okay?”
Fuck.
I draw in a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded as I nod.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think this is okay.” He lifts one hand to cup the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss.
We stay that way, me grinding down on his lap, our mouths moving in sync, until my body jolts with immense pleasure and I collapse into his arms.
Kieran pets my hair as he catches his breath. I pant into his neck, my cheek pressed into his shoulder.
“How was that?” he asks.
It was the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. My own fingers will never compare.
“It was okay,” I tease.
“Just okay?”
I kiss him to shut him up.