When I did, he slowly eased inside me. My mouth fell open in a perfect O as my hips lifted to meet his. His head fell back and a smile broke out across his face. “You f
eel so amazing. You were fucking made for me.”
He moved his hips in slow, deliberate circles. The sensations in my body were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. He hadn’t been lying. He really was making love to me, and it was beautiful.
A tear slid down my cheek and he frowned. Wiping it away, he said, “Why are you crying? Should I stop?”
“No,” I placed my hand against his cheek and swallowed thickly, “never stop. This is perfect.”
He said no more. It wasn’t necessary, because our bodies did all the talking.
He held himself above me, refusing to kiss me. I knew why. He wanted to see what he was doing to me, and I was more than willing to let him watch. I wanted him to know how affected I was—how only he could reduce me to this.
Our breaths mingled together in the space between us.
With each movement, our bodies stuck slightly together due to the paint and the misty sweat clinging to our skin.
He dipped his hands in some of the paint spread around us, then cupped my breasts, massaging the paint into my skin.
I could feel him everywhere—in every single pore and fiber of my being.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on to his arms. I needed something to anchor me, so that I didn’t go flying away.
He flipped over, holding onto me and pulling me up with him so that I was now straddling him. My knees slipped in the paint and I let out a small giggle as I grasped his shoulders so I didn’t fall. We stayed connected and once I was righted I tried to find my rhythm. I didn’t go fast—even though a part of me still wanted to. Sensing my internal struggle, he grasped my hips, guiding me in a slow up and down motion. My hands splayed on his chest and I looked into his eyes. A fire surged inside me—a fire only he created. From the moment we met our attitudes had collided. We were like a thunderstorm—loud, violent, and out of control…but when the storm cleared, we were also that clear light peeking out of the shadows of the clouds.
In a tangle of limbs, we moved together, creating art and releasing our demons. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever done in my entire life.
As the hours passed, he showed me again and again just how beautiful making love could be. I was ruined now. I’d never be able to go back to my old ways. Caelan Gregory had forever changed me—and I was perfectly okay with that.
Spent, my body curled against his. He kissed me deeply, robbing me of breath.
He nuzzled my neck and the words he spoke stopped my heart and even my world.
“I love you is too simplistic of a description for what I feel for you.” His breath tickled my skin. “I live for you.” He kissed my neck, then my chin, and finally my lips. “Yes,” he hummed, “that’s much more accurate.”
I tilted my head towards him, lifting my hand to cup his cheek as my hair tickled his skin. “I live for you,” I repeated his words back to him.
He was right. What we had…it couldn’t be defined as love. It was different…infinitely more.
CHAPTER 17
Caelan
We’d fallen asleep on the canvas. Waking up with Sutton in my arms filled me with a joy I’d never felt before.
As she slept, her face buried in the crook of my neck, I couldn’t help but marvel at how she’d shared her past with me. I was honored that she trusted me enough to tell me the truth. It was a gift I’d cherish for the rest of my life.
She stirred in her sleep and made the cutest little moan.
God, I could watch her sleep forever.
Her nose crinkled and I itched to reach out and touch it.
Slowly, her eyes blinked open and she looked up at me. She turned her head away and yawned before looking back at me. With a bashful smile, she asked, “What time is it?”
I raised my body a bit to look out the window. “Well, it’s dark now.”
She laughed. “That doesn’t answer my question, but okay.” She suddenly frowned and started to pull away. “I should go.”