Chapter 14
Jules
I’m still bent over the desk forty minutes later, making the best of the opportunity of a lifetime.
Having Flint mostly naked for me to sketch is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I let my charcoal flow over the page, marking out the long lines of his torso and arms. I zero in on his chest and biceps first, thickening up the muscles before I grab a fine-point pencil to rough in his intricate tattoos.
This man’s body is a work of art and deserves to be properly represented in this sketch.
He’s been quiet but can’t seem to sit still to save his life. He keeps shifting on the bed, rubbing his hands down the front of his thighs and recrossing his ankles. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he runs one hand through his hair.
The lighting is amazing, thanks to that rewiring job he mentioned.
The lamp casts a hard shadow along the line of his chiseled jawline.
Glancing up at him is enough to make me want to begin on his face.
The shadow falls down the hollow of his throat, and the shadow drops into the dip at the base of his neck where his collarbones meet, and that is the part I am drawing right now.
I don’t, though, because I want to capture the part of him that I don’t get the opportunity to see every day.
I mean to capture every single one of those tattoos.
He put them on his body for a reason, and if I want to truly understand what makes him tick, his ink might give me the clues I need.
His eyes drop down to watch my hands, which have left the sweeping movements behind in favor of small lines and curves along his chest and shoulders. Suddenly, he bolts forward as if he’s made of barely restrained energy.
“Jules,” he says in a strained voice.
“Mm,” I respond, worrying that he’s done sitting for me.
“How much longer do you need?”
“It’s going to be a while. You’re a complicated man. I’ve got a lot of details to capture.”
Glancing down at his body, I can see the understanding click onto his face. “Fuckin’ hell, it’s my ink, right?”
“You know that it is, handsome,” I fling back in a teasing tone. “Now, hold still and let me at least get the tattoos drawn in.”
“Come on, sweetheart. We don’t have to do it all in one sitting, do we?”
My head comes up, and I stare at him. “Are you saying you’re willing to sit more than once?”
“Yeah, several shorter sessions are better than one that lasts for hours.” Reaching out one hand, he says, “Let me see what you’ve got.”
I pull the sketch back a bit. “But it’s nowhere near done.”
“I don’t fuckin’ care. I love your work, and I want to see what you’ve got so far.”
He pats the mattress beside him and scoots over to make room for me. That turns out to be an invitation that I can’t resist.
I close the distance between us in a few steps and dive onto the bed beside him. We sit with our backs against the headboard, and I show him the sketch. I find myself hoping that he likes the direction I’m taking.
He wraps one arm around me and studies the sketch for several minutes. He seems so transfixed by it that I start to worry. “Sorry you don’t have a face yet. I started with your torso because I wanted to get that right before branching out. Did I miss any of your tatts?”
He swallows thickly, and I can see his Adam’s apple moving along the front of his throat.
“Yeah, I get that it’s a work in progress, Jules. I love it, more so than I thought I would.” His free hand comes out to skate along his right bicep. “You captured my mother tattoo.”
“Yeah, Tommy said you never knew your mother, so I was surprised you had that inked on your body.”
“That’s the reason I got it. My old man said she ran off because she didn’t love him. I got left behind because she couldn’t take care of me by herself. I got this to remind me that I had a mother. I always prayed that wherever she was, she found some peace and happiness.”
I cup his face in my hand. “That’s the sweetest tribute I’ve ever heard. That’s one of the reasons I’ve always had a thing for you. You’re a good man in a world where very few are.”
“Sweetheart. Stop. You can’t keep idolizing me. I’m too old for you, and I don’t want to come between you and your brother.”
I rub one thumb across his cheek and gaze into his eyes before leaning over until my lips are almost touching his. “I don’t idolize you. I love you.”
Instead of kissing him like I want to, I press my forehead against his.
This is the moment he has to come to me.
I want him to meet me halfway, prove that he wants me as much as I want him.
It’s the difference between taking something from him and us sharing something real.
Waiting for him to decide is the longest two minutes of my life.
Then his lips slant over mine for that breathtaking kiss of a lifetime. The one where the ground shifts beneath you, fireworks light up the sky above you, and desire powerful enough to bring a strong man to his knees overwhelms your better judgment.
I slide both arms around his neck and climb into his lap, with one leg on either side of his hips, and kiss him right back.
When he tugs me closer, I can’t believe after so many years of having a crush on him this is finally happening.
No matter how this goes down, whether we have sex or just make out, I’m never going to forget this night, the night where all my dreams came true.
We break apart, I don’t know how long after. I don’t pull back because all I want is more of this kind of closeness with him. He brings my hand to his mouth, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of my wrist, right over my pounding pulse.
“Jules,” he whispers hoarsely.
“What?”
“Sweetheart, you need to hold the line because I don’t think I can. Tell me to stop.”
“No way. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. I want you. You know I do.”
His hand tightens in my hair, tugging my head back so he can run his lips down the front of my neck.
It’s a bold move and feels dangerous. If he was a wild animal, he could sink his teeth into the soft, unprotected flesh, but Flint isn’t an animal.
He’s an honest, decent, law-abiding man who happens to be in a one percent club.
And I trust him not only with my life but to make our time together exciting and an unforgettable experience.
He pulls me to him, closing the scant distance between our bodies.
I can now feel how much he wants me. His hard cock is pressing against my pussy through my jeans, making me regret wearing clothes at all today.
When he takes my lips again, I whimper. It’s an eager, begging kind of sound that I’ve never made before.
When we break apart again, I can hardly breathe. My clit is tingling, driving my need for him higher with each kiss, touch, and pulse of his throbbing cock between my legs.
“I’m gonna take my time with you,” he whispers. “I’ll make it good for you. Give you something to remember me by.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “You do that, big guy.” Even as I say the words, I know there will be no parting ways after this. Flint is a possessive man, especially when it comes to me. He likes to call it protective, but I know better.
“Lift your arms,” he commands. I obey immediately because I know what this means. He wants to take my shirt off, and probably everything else.
Sure enough, he tugs my shirt over my head and tosses it aside.
Taking a second to slide my sketch book onto the floor, he eases me back onto the bed.
He’s so careful with me with his big, strong hands.
When he begins working on the zipper of my jeans, I help him by squirming out of them.
He pulls my panties off right along with the jeans. I unfasten my bra and toss it aside.
My hands go down to pull his boxer briefs off, but they’re long gone. He’s looming over me with the most intense look on his handsome face.
“You are so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.
I should feel exposed but under his warm gaze, any hint of shyness evaporates. His fingers come up and trace the line of my collarbone in a slow, barely there touch that starts at my throat and moves out to the curve of my shoulder.
“I’ve wanted to do that for fuckin’ years,” he murmurs, “since you went off to college. I know that makes me a bad man. If you want to run, now’s the time.”
Instead of answering, I bring both his hands up to cup my breasts. “Shoulders are nice, but this is where the real action is.”
His intense expression breaks for a moment, replaced by amusement. “You’ve always been too fuckin’ sassy for your own good. You know that, don’t you?”
“I think you like women who say what’s on their mind. And why wouldn’t you? Strong men should like strong women.”
My words spark a hungry look in his eyes. “Yeah, you might look small and weak but you’re stronger than you look, sweetheart.”
I pull him down, and he comes without hesitation.
His lips land on the little divot in my collarbone.
He kisses and then moves lower, trailing kisses along the way.
I like the way his beard scrapes gently across my skin, leaving a trail of desire in its wake.
He takes his time, caressing my breasts and nipples, sucking on one and then the other.
Instead of going to heaven, it feels like heaven descending on top of me.
I can’t help but imagine Flint as my own dark angel.
I spread my legs to make room for his big body.
He slowly moves down my body, with his face hovering between my thighs. He takes a deep breath, making a needy little growl in the back of his throat.
“You smell fuckin’ amazing, Jules. I’m going to put my mouth on you now.”
“Flint, please don’t make me wait.”