Every Night (Brush of Love 1)

I could feel my body growing taut as I throbbed deep within her, and my hips began to stutter with their movements as she bucked wildly against me. The fear soon dissipated into mind-melding pleasure, and the heat that coursed throughout my veins threatened to take me over the edge too soon. I wanted her to come with me. I wanted her electricity to skate across my skin. I wanted her to pull me deep into her body and dig her fingernails into my skin.

I wanted her to hook her life into mine and never let me go.

“Almost there. Almost there. Please. Just yes. Oh, oh, Bryan.”

Her head pressed deeply into the pillow on the bed as I buried myself into her one last time. Her body molded perfectly to my intrusion as I filled her to the brim. I could feel her arousal trickling down my thighs as my sweat began to drip onto her body. She quaked and shook, her hands finally falling out to the side as I collapsed on top of her, feeling the way her body simply allowed me to stay seated in her.

Even in her most vulnerable state, she didn’t want me to leave.

I nuzzled her cheek, pulling a breathless giggle from her as our eyes met. She reached up to push a sweaty strand of hair from my forehead, but all I could process was the look in her eye. It was filled with admiration and joy. Exhaustion and happiness. I saw everything I wanted to be within her beautiful stare, and I realized something.

I was beginning to fall for Hailey.

I reached down, pressing one last kiss to her lips before I tumbled off to the side. She instinctively curled into me, not bothering to get up and clean herself off. I felt the exhaustion I had seen in her eyes barreling over my body.

And still, she was pressed into the crook of my body, sleeping soundly on my sweating chest.

I pulled the covers up over us and began drifting off to sleep. I could already see Hailey’s smiling face as she took my hand, running us around in a field before I scooped her up into my arms and twirled her around. My heart leaped in my chest as I pressed a tired kiss to her forehead, and the moment she sighed and curled deeper into me, I knew what I was going to do.

I was going to tell the world that I adored Hailey, and nothing was going to stand in my way of keeping her by my side. She transformed something within me. I could feel it. She was taking my darkness and crushing it with the light she was casting into my soul. I didn’t know how she was doing it and I wasn’t sure if it was going to last, but while I had it, I wanted the world to know it.

I wanted the world to know that I adored Hailey Ryan, no matter the consequences.

Chapter 22

Hailey

The colors came alive as they splashed onto the canvas. I started with his eyes, painting them with the sorrow they were filled with that evening. Dark. Mysterious. Brooding but in a soft way. I painted his hair almost Lego-like. The way he’d had it gelled down that evening for the ceremony shone underneath the one spotlight illuminating his body. His muscles came to life as he held the beer up in the air, his jaw set in silent determination while his eyes searched for someone in the crowd.

My brushstrokes were thin. Light. Delicate after I’d painted the black backdrop his body stood against. One by one, his features came to life underneath the stroke of my brush, painting a picture from that evening I would never forget. I could still feel the tension in the room. I could still close my eyes and see the way his eyes were scanning the crowd. I could feel the shiver that slid up my back as his eyes connected with mine, giving me a silent nod of appreciation before he went back to talking.

Why in the world did I tell him I wasn’t there?

I traced the outlines of his body, careful to take deep breaths and keep my fingertips steady. The intensity of his gaze and the chiseled muscles on his body were nothing compared to imitating the tattoos that were exposed that night. I wanted to get them right. I wanted to shade them the way I knew they needed to be shaded. I wanted to capture his essence from that ceremony, the pain that was stricken behind his eyes as he poured his love out for his brother on a stage.

The bravery it took to stand up there and say the things he’d said still held me to my seat in awe.

I’d been in awe of him that night and of every word that came tumbling from his lips. I saw John in his smile and in the way his eyes seemed to focus. I saw John in the way he stood tall, with his shoulders rolled back. I saw John in the way he articulated himself. His brother always had a way of expressing himself that was unlike any man I’d ever come across.

When he wasn’t high, of course.

I lost myself in the blending of the colors as the intensity of his eyes came to life. It brought tears to mine, remembering how lost and saddened he looked while he was regaling the crowd with his memories. Bryan and his brother had been close, that much was easy to tell. But I don’t think I’d ever really realized the toll his brother’s death took on him until his face was fully shaded in.

The sadness in his eyes brought tears to mine until I heard his voice behind me and jumped.

“Figured I’d find you in here.”

My heart raced, and my stomach lurched into my throat. I felt him walking up behind me as I tried to cover the painting with my body. If he recognized the painting, if he recognized the stance and the venue, everything would come crashing down. He’d be angry and upset. He’d know I lied, and he would demand to know everything.

Everything I wasn’t ready to remember yet.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” he asked as he stood behind me.

I slowly looked up at him as his eyes danced along the painting. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes grow stoic, and I knew this was it. This would prove I was at the bar, which meant he would know I’d lied to him. Every excuse and every explanation started to rattle my brain all at once. My hands grew clammy as I set my brush down, and I willed them to stop shaking as my breathing sped up. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay as I watched his fingers reach out for the painting.

He’d want to see all my other paintings, and I couldn’t travel that road with him yet.

His fingertips danced across the dried black paint that made up the background. He scanned the painting, but other than growing stoic, he didn’t seem to recognize it. I breathed a small sigh of relief as I studied him, watching his eyes dance rapidly around the painting. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling, and it scared the living breath from my body.