Work of Art ~ the Collection (102 page)

“I just realized something,” he says with a stunned look on his face.

“What’s that?”

“This is the first time in a while we haven’t spent our entire dinner conversation talking about Lizzie.”

“You’re right. But now that you mention it, let’s call over there and make sure Delia has her tucked into bed. When we called on the way over to say goodnight, she sounded pretty hyped up.”

“He probably gave her gummy bears with the movie again. I swear, it takes her two days to get over those monthly sleepovers with Grandpa.”

And, as he starts to dial, my heart swells as I realize how much we miss her when she isn’t with us. We’re the three musketeers now.

The next morning, we enthusiastically embrace sleeping in, since it’s now a rare luxury. Our little spitfire never sleeps past six, even on the weekends. When I finally open my eyes, I stretch luxuriously, then curl back up to my man. I feel him stir, and then pull me closer.

“I was just dreaming about Bandelier again,” he sighs.

“Was it the one where we fly out of the cave dwelling and soar over the trees?”

“No, Lizzy was in this one, and I was helping her up the ladder, but it was short and bright blue, like the one for the slide in the kids’ playground.”

“Well, she keeps asking to go to Santa Fe. She wants to see where we got married. What is it with little girl’s interest in brides and weddings?”

“Probably because she always hears that we had the greatest wedding, and the only thing that could have made it better is if she could’ve been there.”

I smile and kiss him. “I was worried you’d never get over your disappointment that we couldn’t do it at Gaudi’s church in Barcelona.”

“Oh, that would’ve been amazing, but this was really special. New Mexico holds so much meaning for us.”

“I know, you’re such a romantic . . . the way you proposed to me at Bandelier was so perfect.”

“I was inspired. So, let’s take Lizzie to Bandelier. I’ll tell her about how I proposed. It’s never too early for my girl to understand how a man should treat her.”

“Oh, Daddy, you sure love your little girl.”

“That I do.”

“I’m going to make you breakfast in bed this morning.” My lips graze his shoulder. “Any requests?”

“Whatever’s easy, as long as coffee’s involved.”

“After, why don’t you let me pick Sweet pea up and you can have more studio time. I have to stop at the drug store anyway.”

“That’d be great, baby. I could really use the extra couple of hours, and I’m in the mood to paint.”

When we return home, Lizzie runs to the studio and tackle hugs her daddy. Even though she’s interrupting his work, I let her linger with him for a few minutes so she can tell him about
Mary Poppins
.

“Oh, the nice nanny had her magic bag! And her friend lived in the chimney. And, Daddy, she could fly with her umbrella! And she danced with the penguins . . . oh, my!” The words tumble out of her mouth as fast as she can form them. She finally pauses to catch her breath, and Max smiles.

“We’re going to go find the umbrellas now and play Mary Poppins,” I tell him.

“Sounds like fun. I’m glad you had a great time at Grandpa’s, baby girl.”

“We sang all the songs at breakfast, and Grandpa let me have whippy cream and chocolate chips on my waffles.”

Max rolls his eyes at me, and I shrug my shoulders in response.

“It could have been worse. She didn’t bring any new toys or miniature designer party dresses home.”

As Lizzie runs to the yard to help the gardener feed the koi, I remind Max that Jess, Laura, and the boys are coming around three for a swim and early dinner barbeque.

Brian may join us too, if he can get away from the gallery. Ever since Adam retired and started traveling all the time with Katherine, Brian’s become a workaholic, but he promised he would try. We both know there’s a good chance he’ll make it, because he loves to spend time with the boys. They call him Uncle Brian, and Jess and Laura have encouraged him to be a big part of their lives.

“Okay, I have that interview at three-thirty, and then I can join you down at the beach,” Max says.

I give him a kiss and start out the door when he calls me back.

“Do me a favor, baby. Will you keep an extra eye on Pablo? I think he plays too rough with Lizzie.”

“She’s much tougher than you realize. She can handle Pablo just fine.”

“Tough like her mama, right?” He grins.

“Sure, I’m tough—I handle you, don’t I?” I step in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and look up into his gray blue eyes. “You can’t protect her from everything, you know.”

“Maybe,” he admits, “but I sure can try.”

It’s a warm night with the moon hanging low in the sky. I grab my laptop and situate myself on the chaise lounge on the bedroom balcony. I love the sound of the ocean below, the water pushing toward the shore and back, its waters dark and mysterious. I take a deep breath and peel off my shirt, twisting up my hair so that I can feel the breeze against my heated skin.

The afternoon was non-stop action, so it’s great to stretch out and have a quiet moment. The kids had a fun time together, and I love watching Jess navigate motherhood. Of the two moms, she’s the one that jumps in and carves the moat for the boys’ sandcastle, while Laura soothes the son who’s just been hit over the head with a plastic sand shovel. Jess lets them eat their Halloween candy with abandon, and Laura monitors their Oreos intake. They balance each other out nicely, which is similar to how I think Max and I are with Lizzie.

As for Lizzie dealing with the rough boys, Daddy really didn’t need to worry, as she had Leo and Pablo wrapped around her finger. She bossed them around one moment and ran from them squealing the next—letting them think they had the upper hand. If I had her instincts, I would’ve had much less trouble with men early on.

I pull open my laptop, and within minutes, I’m lost in my words, only the silver from the moonlight and glow from my screen defining my surroundings under the night sky. About an hour passes before I hear his voice.

“Ava,” Max calls.

“Out here.”

He approaches the French doors leading to the patio and stops in his tracks to take me in, as I’m half-undressed with my hair swept up. His eyes are wide, his expression playfully curious. “What’re you doing out here looking like that?” he teases. “Are you trying to make me jealous of the moon?”

I laugh as I look down at my lavender lace bra and white flowing skirt pushed up high on my thighs.

“I’m still hot from all the sun today and wanted to feel the breeze on my skin. Plus, that new editor that Nick has me working with is making me crazy.”

“Well, you’re making me crazy looking like that.”

I scoot my legs over as he sits on the edge of my chaise lounge.

“Here, I know how to relax you,” he says, moving my laptop to the side table. He slowly strokes my legs and massages my feet as we sit quietly and listen to the waves crashing down below.

“Are you going to paint some more tonight?” I lean toward him and rest my head on his shoulder.

“No, I’m done working. What I’d really like to do is play with you.” He feathers kisses at the nape of my neck and trails his paint-stained finger down between my breasts.

“What did you have in mind?”

He lifts up so he can swing his leg over, now straddling the chaise lounge. “Well, to start with, I want to kiss you . . . really kiss you, my beautiful wife.”

I feel my cheeks flush.
How does he do it?
He still makes me swoon like a schoolgirl.

I lean in closer with a quiet smile.

His lips graze mine, ever so lightly at first, as my eyes fall closed and my hair rustles in the breeze. The next kiss brings us closer, his lips soft and warm, the passion building with each heartbeat. I moan softly and slide my hand along the nape of his neck.

“Max,” I whisper. Every sensation of being near him unfurls the desire inside of me.

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.” The delicate strings of my heart wrap around him as his lips skim along my jaw and find their way back to my lips.

In this intimate moment, I imagine we’ve always been together, sharing past lives: kisses stolen in Egyptian tombs, our footprints lightly etched in the earth of the African savannah, and fingers intertwined in carriages rolling through the English countryside. But even though I don’t doubt we’ve shared past lives, and we’ll have our future, what really matters is our glorious now.

“I love you too.” He sighs, devotion in his eyes, as his fingers slide under my bra strap to caress my shoulder. The strap falls, and a moment later the other surrenders. He kisses me tenderly as the front of my bra is slowly eased down.

I arch back against the chaise cushion as he takes my breasts in his hands. At first, he moves his fingers so lightly over me, circling, before his thumbs roll over my nipples.

“Oh, when you touch me.”

“I want to touch every part of you.” His expression is earnest, yet dark . . . satisfied, yet hungry.

My arousal is flaming inside of me, impatient and wild.

“Let’s go to bed.”

He looks up and smiles
that
smile—the one that causes my breath to catch and electrifies every part of me.

“Now . . .” I insist.

He stands up and pulls me off the chaise before leading me inside. I look over at the door to the hallway, and as if reading my mind, he steps over to lock it, ensuring our privacy. Only moments later, he’s naked and on the bed.

“Come here,” he whispers, his arms outstretched.

I take my time removing my last bits of clothing, while he watches with an appreciative gaze. He says I’m his enchantress, the only woman he’ll ever want. We’ve made love countless times, and I never get tired of feeling his hunger for me.

I slowly lower myself over him until I’ve straddled his hips. We kiss while our hands wander, teasing us both to that state of raw desire. His gaze is smoldering as he eases me higher. Without another word, I take hold of his cock, rubbing it against my wetness until I slowly settle down over him.

He lets out a low gasp, his hands grabbing the fleshy part of my hips, as I start to slowly rock.

“Oh, you feel so damn good.” I moan low and deep as I rise up, then push down over him.

His eyes roll back with pleasure.

“Ava.”

I lean down to kiss him, and as the heat ignites, he suddenly rolls us until I’m under him. I can see he’s on edge in his determined look—he needs to let go.

I pull my legs apart, and when our gaze connects, there’s fire in his eyes.

“You ready, baby?” he whispers—his voice ragged with hunger.

I nod and he fills me with a gasp. My legs fall wide open.

Part of me wants him to be tender, but the other part knows I’m tough and can take everything he needs to give.

Each deep, hard thrust pushes me closer to my peak. As I float away, I feel his lips on my neck and his hand grasping my breast.

We are creatures, lovers, savages, and saints. I watch him rise to his knees, his hands on my hips, gazing at me with wild eyes as he drives into me.

I embrace every raw nerve that cries out for our release, and when I start to climax, I quiver under his powerful hold. He follows me, and it’s a thing to behold, as he arches his back and fills me. My heart is fluttering and my lips bruised, but he could kiss me a thousand times more and it would never be enough.