12. Lyric
TWELVE
LYRIC
Jensen drove me back to Trick or Treat. Ideas for other ways to use A Place for All were brimming in my mind. Food trucks were an amazing way to bring new foods into the public spaces.
Maybe we could make the inside and outside work together. A competition, perhaps?
The possibilities were limitless.
I felt like Tatum with her notes as I frantically typed on my phone. I glanced over at Sheba, currently sprawled across the bench seat of the truck, her foot touching my thigh and her head in Jensen’s lap as she looked up at him adoringly.
Traitor.
Not that I could really blame her. He had his wrist draped over the top of the steering wheel and his black sweater was pushed up at the forearm. His other hand rested on his thigh, lightly tapping to the beat of the drums to a song I didn’t know. His profile was all intriguing angles, but then his lips were lush and so very soft.
The way he’d casually said he’d kiss me replayed in my head.
Ridiculous.
That wouldn’t work between us. And he’d been kidding. I was sure of it.
Mostly.
“What are you typing so furiously over there?”
“Ideas from meeting all the people. Every time I think I know what A Place for All should be, I get another idea.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Or maybe I’m making a mistake by being too scattered.”
“Don’t do that. Your instinct is popping, that’s all. There’s no bad there.”
The light reprimand hummed under my skin. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, I’m excited to illustrate all that gorgeous food.”
“Oh, God. I didn’t even look at your sketches yet.”
“It’s okay. It was more fun to see you eat.”
“I want to see them.”
He stretched his arm along the back of the bench, then he reached behind in the little space and his arm brushed my hair. I twisted to give him room and he gave me one of those lopsided grins.
He pulled out a thick black notebook with a canvas cover. A tag-style lettering that reminded me of spray paint art scrawled across the front and wrapped around the side to the back.
“Take a look.”
I took it from him and turned the book to read the lettering. “Steal this and die?”
He laughed. “I’ve had that notebook for a while. Most of my work is mural-sized, but I like to do studies to keep my hand in.”
I opened it and my breath caught at the sketches of a small stone house by the ocean. With each turn of the page, I glimpsed a new location. Some seemed like they might be plucked right out of his mind instead of reality.
Then it moved on into portraits. Deeply wrinkled faces of a man crouched near a dumpster with a tiny white kitten in the pocket of his flak jacket. A child on a swing mid-flight. A baby on a blanket under a massive tree. In the tree, many mason jars hung on different levels and were so intricately drawn I could practically hear them clank together on the branches.
“These are amazing.”
“Just studies. Nothing special.”
“You have to be kidding me.” I glanced at him.
He shrugged. “The styles are all over the place. I prefer paints and chalks. You’ll see some coming up if you keep going. Your drawings are at the back.”
“I’ll get there.”
I was too fascinated with the way he saw things. The sketchy drawings turned to color with smudges that created colors I’d never have put together. Purples and reds with stark blacks. And in the dreamy haze was a jagged black building that speared into the sky.
Then there were a series of drawings of female bodies. Again, with the wild colors that sort of hid the form. Certain parts were so starkly realistic I almost thought I could reach into the photo and touch it.
Did he get women to pose for him? Were these former girlfriends or simply women he paid to pose?
A black woman with skin so dark she brought to mind polished ebony curled into what I thought might be a yoga pose. But each curve was fragile and strong at the same time.
“Class.”
Startled, I looked up. “What?”
“I did the art college thing for a while. I liked the studio classes. Helped me learn the way the body is constructed. How the bones move under muscle and skin. I can’t tell you how many hands and feet I drew.” He laughed. “The first few looked a lot like Fred Flinstone’s feet.”
“Hard to believe with how you...” I cleared my throat. “These are very intricate.”
“Life drawing was fun. You should have seen the old dudes we had to draw. There was this one guy who would do these harsh poses with his legs wide the hell open. I knew far too much detail about that guy’s junk.”
The laugh that bubbled out of me made Sheba lift her head.
“We also had one guy who legit looked like Jesus.” He reached over and turned the pages. “Raven was gorgeous. She was a yoga teacher. We didn’t get to draw her much. The graphite and charcoal bothered her.”
“Were they small rooms?”
“You could say that.” He flipped to drawings of a guy who really did look like the typical depictions of Jesus. “He was one of the tallest dudes I’ve ever drawn.”
“Watch the road.”
“Sorry.” He turned back to the road.
“These are really good though.”
“Eh. I was one of many in school that was good. I appreciated learning the extra details, but I was bored. Why I didn’t last too long. I was happier with the mixed media.”
There seemed to be an unexpected jump in styles. As if there was a chunk of time between one drawing and another. Suddenly, they were much darker. He’d almost rubbed holes in the paper as he tried to dig out something in the dark.
Then I found an intricate dragon that stole my breath.
The same one that wound around his forearm. “You drew your own tattoo?”
He looked down at his forearm and flexed. “Yeah. Kept dreaming about it.”
The scales were inky with a sheen to them in a million shades that reminded me of an oil slick. The dragon’s eyes were burnished gold and made me shiver. They felt familiar somehow.
I turned the page, needing to put that away for some reason. And again, the artwork was so incredibly different. The page was jet black with some sort of white pen drawing.
It mimicked the walls of A Place for All. A necklace popped off the page with a stylized line drawing that captured Hadley McTavish’s artwork. It felt as if it literally dripped off the corner of the page. He’d even recreated her logo, making it seem as if it had been embossed into the soft black.
“Wow.”
He turned into Trick or Treat’s lot and parked near my Jeep. “Want to go in for a minute? It’ll make more sense.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that would be okay.” I released my buckle and Sheba hopped up, her tail wagging after her mini-nap. I opened my door, and she scrambled out around the back. She probably needed to do her business again due to all the treats.
I had a key to the back doors of the building. Jensen met me at the front of his truck and held his hand out for his notebook.
I closed it and held it against my chest. “I’ll just keep it.”
He stepped closer. “You saw the writing on the book, didn’t you?” He tucked his finger into the space between my chest and the notebook.
My heart jolted—hard. The wind picked that moment to kick up and my hair blew forward.
As he crowded into me, the bonfire scent of him swirled around me. “You’re not going to make me peel it out of your arms, are you?”
“I’m not done.” I tipped up my chin to meet his gaze.
“No one has looked through my book before.” His voice was deep and quiet.
“No one?”
“That book is for me.”
“And yet you let me look.”
“I did.” The backs of his fingers caught on the V-neck of my shirt. “But you’ve seen enough.”
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to give it back to him, but I couldn’t seem to let go. My gaze tripped to his lips. Then a drop of rain splashed against my cheek. I peered up at the sky and the drop multiplied as the slate gray clouds finally broke.
He ushered me toward the atrium doors. Sheba darted around the corner to get under the awning. My little princess didn’t like to get wet. I dug for my keys as the wind lifted again, pushing us forward into the door.
“Jesus,” Jensen muttered.
“I didn’t know we were getting a storm.”
“Me neither,” he said over the wind.
Sheba tucked herself between us. It took me two tries to get my code into the door to go with the key. The wind gusted again as I tried to open the door. Jensen helped and the three of us tumbled inside.
He raked his hands through his hair to get the worst of the wet out then he shook himself, much like my dog.
I still had the notebook clutched to my chest. I’d instinctively tucked it under my sweater to make sure it was safe. He stalked toward me again and I backed up.
“Still not giving it up?”
“Nope.” I laughed and darted toward the back of the room.
Sheba thought we were playing and made chase. Jensen squeaked after me, since his Doc Martens had gathered more water than my sneakers.
He reached out and wrapped one arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet.
I yelped, our laughter echoing in the large empty room.
His darker chuckle vibrated along my neck as he drew me tight against his hard body. “That’s mine, Lyric.”
“You said you wanted to work with me.”
“I do,” he purred into my ear. “But that’s my property.”
“I didn’t get to see it all.”
“Maybe you don’t get to see it all at once.” He set me down, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he turned me in his arms and took the notebook. My fingers didn’t quite work this time.
I let it go far too easily.
He set it on the table near us before he twisted his fingers into the belt loops on either side of my waist. “You’ve seen far too much of me today.”
I tipped back my head. “Did I?”
“More than anyone has in a long time.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“You are?”
He grinned. “I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve wanted to for so damn long, I can’t wait anymore.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Lyric?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up, please.”
I blinked. What the hell was happening? I shouldn’t let this happen.
But I couldn’t move.
Didn’t want to move.
It was just a kiss. It wasn’t the end of the world, right?
“Okay,” I whispered.
He lowered his head to mine. Instead of going right for the kiss, he brushed his nose along mine. His fingers twisted tighter into the loops. Was he holding himself back?
Because I was so obviously broken?
I went onto my toes to get closer. To show him I wasn’t the passive little mouse I’d been for so damn long.
He groaned against my mouth, my name a whisper between us. Then there was nothing but his lush mouth on mine. His fingers released my belt loops and one arm wrapped around my back as he literally hoisted me up off my feet.
Shocked, I gasped and held onto his shoulders as he went deeper. His tongue slipped past my lips and teased me lightly. I could feel his lips curve as he held me aloft and swung me around in a light circle. I couldn’t help but laugh back.
“See? World didn’t end. I dare say you liked it.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” His eyebrow spiked and I was close enough to notice the little slice missing at the highest part of his eyebrow, another aspect to that whole rugged angular thing he had going on. Like a little slice had gone too deep when it cut and molded his features.
I lifted my fingertip to trace the scar. “What’s this from?”
He nipped the skin of my wrist, and I gasped. “Kickback of a defective spray can. Got me good.”
“What color?”
“What?”
“What color was the can?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Black.”
“Of course it was.” I trailed my finger over the high ridge of his cheekbone down to the soft bristles of his beard. It was short and soft and tickled when he kissed me. Then I skipped along the little dip of his top lip, and he opened his mouth to nip the tip of my finger.
“Can I kiss you again?”
I nodded.
This time, it was soft, and the laughter faded into slow brushes of our lips. The hair of his beard tickled and scraped at my chin. Our breath mingled. The sting of mint on his tongue drew me deeper into the kiss.
His other hand finally lifted to my hair. He tugged out the band of my ponytail, then he sunk his fingers into my hair. He turned my head where he wanted me and still, my feet dangled off the floor.
I held on, my head spinning as the kiss got hotter. Teeth nipping, tongues lashing, breath panting—and it felt so good not to be afraid for a minute.
Not to feel alone.
He pushed me into the wall and my knees lifted to wrap around his slim hips. God, he was so freaking hard everywhere. His arms, the muscles of his chest and abs. He was like a damn rock against me.
And I loved it.
My fingers slid up into his hair. The super short hairs buzzed against my palm then the still wet strands slithered around my fingers.
He groaned into my mouth then he moved to my neck, breathing hard. “Give me a second.”
“No, don’t think. Thinking sucks.” I pulled his hair to bring his mouth back to mine.
“If I don’t, I’m going to push this sweater off you. Then this shirt. And I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want you to hate me again.”
“I don’t hate you.”
His dark eyes bore into mine. “You ran out of The Cove like your ass was on fire.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Afterward, you avoided me every chance you could.” His mouth hovered over mine. He nipped at my lower lip and then he dipped inside again, dragging my brain right back offline.
The dark clouds outside, the lashing rain, and the short day left us in near darkness.
He tore his mouth away. “Shit. You taste too good.”
“Then don’t stop.”