Eventually Vic did find out about the body painting. How could he not? Spencer and I traveled all over the place doing contests the year after we graduated. But he never did see the pictures of the night in the atrium.
That day, that night, that experience…
That was not just body painting.
That was seduction, pure and simple.
Three years ago—Shrike Shop Atrium
“Take your clothes off, Bomb,” Spencer says casually as he messes with an airbrush.
I just breathe and nothing more.
He cocks his head at me and squints. “You having second thoughts?”
My br**sts rise and fall in rapid succession as the adrenaline courses through my body.
Spencer does not miss this. “You’re nervous?” he tries again. I’m only capable of the most basic functions of living. Breathing. One, two, three more heaving breaths bring his attention back to my chest and then before I can understand what’s happening, he’s supporting my weight. “Ronnie, you OK?”
I shake my head, uncertain what just happened.
“Ronnie? Speak.”
“I’m OK. I think. What happened?”
He leans down and kisses me on the lips and it’s only then that I notice we’re sitting on the ground. “I think you fainted.”
“That’s… stupid. I’ve never fainted in my life.”
He kisses me again, just as softly. It’s not a seductive kiss, even though I know for a fact I’m being seduced right this very moment. It’s a casual kiss, the kind you’d give someone absently. Out of habit, with no thoughts of being denied or crossing boundaries. It’s a kiss that says, I’m here.
My head spins again and I have to close my eyes and breathe deeply for a second.
“Veronica?” His voice has a little more concern now. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.” Thoughts are racing through my head, fast and furious. Even though I know such thoughts need to be tucked away, lest I faint again, they surface and there it is. “I think I…”
“What?” he asks, leaning in close again. His lips caress my cheek this time and I’m dizzy.
“I think I swooned.”
I expect a laugh, or a tease. Or maybe a kiss to wash away my silliness… but instead he says, “You know what that means, right?”
I force myself to look up into those gray eyes because I need this answer.
“It means you’re in love.”
“I am in love,” I admit immediately, breaking every rule of new relationships in one fell swoop. “I’m afraid I’m a goner and you might be stuck with me forever.”
He smiles the warmest, most adorable smile I’ve ever seen. On anyone. He’s got the most amazing smile. It’s soft, and caring. Such a contradiction to his hard body. “I’ve already planned our whole life, so I’m good with being stuck. But first, Bombshell, I’d like to get you naked. And then I’d like to caress you with my paintbrush until I turn your body into something magical. I’m gonna make you blush, Bomb. I’m gonna make you blush, and when we’re all done, I’m gonna capture you on digital film and keep you with me forever.”
Goddamn. This man has a way with words. How can his mouth be sexier than his… sex. I’m not sure, but it is. It very much is.
He gently moves me so I’m lying flat on the grass, my arms relaxed and my head lolling over a little with acceptance or surrender, I’m not sure which. And then he’s unbuttoning my shorts. My eyes dart down to his hands and then back up to his face.
He gives me a soft, but very crooked, smile as he drags the zipper down.
I swallow.
“Lift your hips, babe.”
I lift and he slides my shorts down, leaving my underwear on. My chest starts to rise and fall in that weird pattern again. He leans down to give me another comforting kiss. “Be still, breathe deep. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I’m not afraid.”
“Your body says different, Bombshell. But it’s OK. I’m gonna lead you through this, step by step. Now.” He gently grabs my upper arms and pulls me towards him until I’m sitting up. “Let’s take this off, OK?”
I nod as he slips my tank top up my stomach. And I swear, I try my best to not let it affect me, but holy hell. His fingertips drag up my ribcage, and I’m not ticklish much, but my head falls backwards and a moan comes out.
What the hell is happening to me? It’s like I’m out of control. Fainting and moaning. And all the man’s done is ask me questions and lift my shirt off!
Spencer leans into my neck once the moan subsides. “Do I make you hot?”
I try to regain some semblance of control, but I totally fail. So my words betray every empty thought in my head when I whisper, “I’m an insatiable inferno.”
His large hands stroke my calf, then he grabs my foot and pushes it until my knee bends. He does the same thing to my other foot, and then grabs my panties and says, “Lift, please.”
I swallow and lift.
His fingertips drag down my outer thighs this time, then tickle that little dent behind my knees as he hooks the panties over my kneecaps and lets them drop to the ground on top of my feet.
I wait for him to finish what he started and remove the panties from my ankles, but he doesn’t. He leaves them there, a reminder that he just stripped them off me.
God, that makes me wet for some reason.