The Apartment: The Complete Affair (68 page)

“Is that…is that supposed to be
me
?” she whispered, slowly holding out her hand to point at the stranger on the canvas.

“Of course it is.”

“But it doesn’t look anything like me.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said, pretending to be insulted. “How does that not look like you?”

“I mean, it
resembles
me, but I don’t normally look so…so lustful…and seductive…and voluptuous.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t! I’m as big as a house right now and about as sensual as a buffalo!”

“Look at me,” he commanded, grabbing her chin firmly, forcing her eyes up to his. His gaze was hard and serious, and when he finally spoke, his tone left no room for argument. “First of all, I know you feel awkward and enormous right now, but I have never once lied to you when I say that I find you
ungodly
sexy like this. I always do, every single day. But this woman here,” he gestured to the painting, “she fucking
haunts
me. This is the woman I see whenever you let go and decide that you need me no matter where we are or what we’re doing. I didn’t make this up, Lily; that’s
your
face. That is the exact expression you make when you surrender to your need.”

“Really?”

“Why the hell do you think I was so desperate to keep painting earlier? Any other time, I would have jumped you in a second and gone back to painting later, but that specific look was what I was trying to capture today.” He broke into a smile before continuing. “I’m actually really proud that I lasted as long as I did. That look is fucking lethal.” He leaned down and kissed her softly, flicking her lips with the tip of his tongue before pulling away, knowing that if he allowed it to grow more heated they would never leave. “Now, let’s go pick up Mason,” he smiled.

“Okay,” she mumbled, feeling dazed and lightheaded by his teasing kisses. They walked back to the door, their locked hands swaying between them. “So what are you going to call this one?” she asked when she finally had her wits about her.

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighed. “It’s always best to keep the title simple and true. I was thinking something along the lines of
Portrait of a Sex Goddess
.”

“Well that’s certainly…subtle.”

“That’s me, baby. I’m the king of subtle.” He winked at her and swatted her backside playfully as they entered the hall, pulling the door closed behind them as they left, heading out into the night to pick up a sleeping boy with a belly full of cookies.

Amanda Black was born and raised in the Midwest, where she still lives with her husband and spoiled-rotten dogs. She earned a bachelor’s degree in Studio Art before deciding that she actually needed to pay some bills, which is when she took a position as an ophthalmic technician. For the past few years she’s been a closet romance writer in her spare time and would love nothing more than to make it a full-time career. When she’s not writing her next steamy love scene, her interests include reading, sketching, and annihilating her friends and family in movie trivia.