The Unveiling (Work of Art #2) (21 page)

“Condom,” he says, pausing.

God, I hope he has one.

He reaches down to the floor for his backpack and frantically drags stuff out. Finally, after digging around in the bottom of the inside pocket, he yanks a strip out.

“Yay!” we both cheer, victorious.

He kneels before me as I part my legs, and he hands me the foil packet.

I tear it open, never losing eye contact with him. He’s so damn sexy with his dark desire, yet the devotion reflected in his eyes is a homemade valentine made just for me. I carefully roll the condom over him before falling back against the pillows. I’ve never been more ready.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he whispers, as he runs his hands along the inside of my thighs. He leans forward until his lips are on mine with a kiss full of reverence.

His cock presses against me, and while I could arch my hips to take him in, I want him to lead.

He pauses and he looks at me. “I’m so in love with you, Ava.”

My heart soars as he says the words I’ve been waiting for…always hoping to hear. I look in his eyes and see Max for the very first time—the joy, the tenderness—and I see that the man he’d abandoned so long ago has finally returned home.

“Tell me again, Max,” I whisper, as I ease my legs further apart, drawing him to me.

Never blinking, he gazes into my eyes and pushes into my wetness.

“I…”

I groan with the most intense pleasure as I take everything he’s offering me.

“Love…”

He gasps, his eyes rolling back, but then he gazes at me again. His eyes are windows I can peer into and see his full heart. He pushes harder as I tighten around him. Nothing’s ever felt like this before.

“You.”

He moans as he sinks all the way into me.

The fullness is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever felt. I’m flying, and I push my hips up to take him in that much more. Max stills, his eyes widening with the sensation. In all the ways that count, this is the first time for both of us, and he seems full of wonder to finally give the love he’d stored away.

I cradle his handsome face in my hands as my eyes fill with tears again. “I love you too, Max…with all of my heart.”

A smile explodes across his face, and I can feel his bliss surround and lift us.

We are whole.

There
is magic in this miraculous life. If you open yourself, you do make yourself vulnerable to pain but the deeper pain you experience, the deeper joy you can have.

~ Mark Ryden

I
’m Gustav Klimt’s pale dark-haired beauty swathed in a patchwork quilt of gold. My breath rises and falls as my lover presses against me. His fingers push the gilded cloth away and circle my breast and then my belly. His wet lips meet my swollen nipple, his tongue teasing as heat burns between my legs. I moan, fighting the urge to open my eyes, because when I do, the dream will slip out of my grasp.

His hardness presses against my thigh as his mouth continues to pleasure me. He gently takes my nipple between his teeth and tugs before sucking it again and again. His hand slips lower and lower, finally sliding between my legs and when his fingers push inside me, he moans.

It slowly occurs to me that this may not be a dream
.
I open my eyes to see Max at my breast, his eyes closed, and his hand moving over me. I silently watch him as my arousal fully blossoms. I part my thighs and his eyes flash open, hooded and drunk with lust.

“Sorry I woke you, baby. I just couldn’t resist.”

The moon is hanging low in our picture window, painting us with silver light. I lace my fingers through his hair and pull him back to me. “Well, don’t stop now,” I moan. He hums with contentment and takes my other nipple in his mouth while he thrusts his fingers deeper inside me.

We’d made love twice before falling asleep, but he’s ready for more. “Are you always insatiable?” I tease him, as his fingers swirl over and in me. I take ragged breaths and gradually fall completely open and raw.

“Just for you. I’ve never felt like this before…like I could explode from the impact of it.”

I let out a long, happy sigh. “Me too.”

“This feel good?” His fingers circle slowly between my legs while he rocks his hips and slides his erection against me.

“So good.”

“So, while I fuck you, I’m going to tell you all my secrets.”

“You aren’t going to fuck me, cowboy…we’re making love.”

“Yes, we’re making love, my hopeless romantic, but we’re fucking too. Don’t knock fucking…fucking is great.”

I laugh and bite his earlobe.

He moans. “You’re wicked, woman.”

“Yes, I am. Now, tell me your secrets.”

He squints for a moment, focusing in the distance before shifting back to me. “Remember the day we met in New York and I took you to that little Italian restaurant in the Village?”

“Um-hmm,” I moan.

“Well, that I night I dreamed we made love. It was so vivid that, when I woke up, I thought you were with me.”

“Were you hard when you woke up?” I remember the dreams I’d had about him when I woke up aroused.

He grins as if I’m clueless. “What do you think?”

“Sounds hot,” I whisper.

“You have no idea.”

“I love it. I want more secrets.”

He lets out a low laugh as he teases my nipple with his other hand and brushes his lips against my ear. “The next night in New York, when I saw Jonathan hone in on you, I was so jealous. That was the night I knew I had to have you all to myself.”

“Really?” I ask, surprisingly turned on by his instinctive reaction. “Kind of territorial, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. Jonathan’s infatuation made me crazy. It had built over time, so that night at Dylan’s parents when I pulled him off you, I would have hit him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, or I’d be visiting you in jail,” I say, as I rock back against his erection. “Besides, Jonathan could never hold a candle to you, my love.”

“Yeah, the old man wasn’t all that, was he?”

“What you should know is that, when I would lie in bed at night, it was always you I imagined making love to…always you as I pleasured myself. Your face was the face I saw when I came.”

“Ava,” he moans, rolling to his back and pulling me on top of him. I wrap my hand around him and tease him by sliding him back and forth between my legs before finally sinking down on him.

His back arches with pleasure and he fondles my breasts as I slowly begin to rock my hips.

“This is happening isn’t it?” he says.

I breathe out a long happy sigh. “Yes, it is. And it’s better than I could’ve dreamed.”

Hours later, the light skims over us. We’re a tangle of sheets, limbs, and contentment. I glance at the clock and remember we’re supposed to meet the group for breakfast in a half hour. I sigh and watch his sweet expression before regretfully wiggling out from his embrace and heading to the bathroom. I take a quick shower and get dressed without waking him, but then slide on the bed to feather kisses across his forehead.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He opens eyes and pulls me closer. “Hey, where are you going? Get back in bed.”

I yank the sheets back. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast, remember? Michelle probably thinks I’ve been kidnapped. They’ll worry if we don’t come.”

He rolls his eyes and sits up. “Okay, okay,” he grumbles, and swings his legs over the side of the bed. When he stands and walks to the bathroom, I admire his long and lean body. It’s muscular in a solid way, and he has a great ass too.

I’ll have to check it out in more detail.

He stops in the doorway and turns around. “Next shower, you’re joining me.” He gives me a hot look before slipping inside.

When we finally walk into the dining room, we’re hand-in-hand, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I tighten my fingers as we locate our friends. Within moments, everyone will see us and the questions will begin. If he doesn’t care, I won’t either.

As we approach the table, a few people look up. Max smiles and pulls my chair out before he slides down next to me.

“What’s up, Max? You look like you’re in a good mood,” Dylan asks rather loudly, getting everyone’s attention.

Joe laughs and tips his chair back, as if he’s about to see a show.

Max smiles. “Damn right. This is the best day of my life.”

The entire table falls silent and everyone turns to him.

“The best day of your life?” Dylan asks, as he looks from Max to me.

“Yes, this is the best day of my life because I finally told Ava I’m in love with her, and you know what? She loves me too!” He grins like a schoolboy and kisses me, and I let him…in front of everyone.

Dylan rolls his eyes. “It’s about time.”

“Whoa!” Jess exclaims.

“Get a room!” adds Brian.

My cheeks grow hot and Max smiles.

“We have
our
room,” he whispers in my ear and sighs. He lifts my hand and kisses it before he turns back to the table.

Our room,
I repeat in my head, not missing the significance of
our
.

“Where are the menus?” he demands. “I’m starving!”

After eating breakfast, transferring my bags to
our
room, and changing, we decide I’ll ride with Jess to the art show, while Dylan and Max meet with a writer from the
New York Times
at La Posada. Being apart from Max after finally truly being together is inevitable and painful. He doesn’t look happy about it either, but he pulls me into his arms and promises he’ll find me at the show as soon as he can.

When we’re safely in the car, Jess turns to me. “I gotta say, girl, you are a little hard to keep up with. Just five days ago, I had to drag you out of bed because you were depressed you’d been fooled by your asshole
married
admirer. Then, at the airport, you and Max are best buddies. I must’ve missed the part where you two fell head-over-heels for each other. So, now you’re in love?” she teases, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Listening to Jess describe it makes my situation sound absurd. But Jess knows the truth, and she’s testing me. I give her a long look.

“Oh, Jess, you know I’ve always wanted him. I was just too scared to admit how I really felt.”

She laughs heartily. “Well, yeah, girl, I didn’t think you’d ever admit it…that you’d allow your heart to go there.”

“Fair enough. I’ve been shut down for a long time, but when I was in his arms last night, I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier.”

“Oh, baby.” She smiles tenderly.

“Look, you’re my dear friend and you’re close to Max. You know better than anyone the hurdles we face. I don’t think for a minute this’ll be easy, but I also don’t think I can fight my true feelings anymore.”

“I’m more optimistic than you think. Yes,
you
may be the perfect woman for Max…you’ve always known I felt that way, but what you don’t know is that I think he’s good for you. He’s brilliant, fun, intensely loyal, and he’ll challenge you. I think you need that. You guys have the chance to be an incredibly powerful couple.”

My heart soars at the idea that we can be more together than we are alone.

She gives me a serious look. “I don’t have to tell you that you’ll need to figure out how to deal with his dark side. It won’t always be easy—sometimes it’ll be hell. But show me a relationship that doesn’t have to work through crap, and I’ll show you a facade.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” I take a deep breath.

“But enough of that. Let’s just stay in our happy place and celebrate that my Ava is in love. Oh, and did I mention that he’s one great-looking fucker. You sure know how to pick a hot man!”

“Hot doesn’t begin to describe him.” My eyes grow wide as I remember last night.

She laughs and arches her brow. “That good, huh? Well, I’m not surprised. He’s an artist, after all.”

At the art show, we put on our badges and grab a map to orient ourselves. We’re just about to walk down the first aisle when a big man passing us looks at my badge and stops in his tracks.

“Ava Jacobs?” The man inquiring has unusual coloring—flaming red hair, tan skin and a smattering of freckles. His dark green eyes pop against the unruliness of his red hair, and he’s dressed in expensive, hip clothes.

I scrutinize him, trying to remember if I know him. “Yes, I’m Ava. Pardon me, but do I know you?”

His badge is twisted sideways, and he flips it back in place. “No, you don’t, but let me introduce myself. I’m Nick Castallani, senior editor at Rampart in New York. I was just talking to Jonathan Alistair about you last week. He let me pre-read your work on Maxfield Caswell, and it was excellent.”

I blush and glance down, but then force my gaze back up at him to accept the compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Castallani.”

Jonathan recommended me to another publisher. And not just any other publisher, but one of the most prominent publishers in our field. For all the resentment I hold for Jonathan, there are things I will always appreciate; mostly that he believed in my talent and wanted me to succeed.

Jess shifts by my side, and I realize my oversight. “Please, let me introduce my good friend, Jess Chandler. You may be familiar with her work.”