We end up at his house, and I give him a questioning glance as I step off of the motorcycle.
“You’ll see!” His striking blues gleam down on me as he laughs.
We head inside and go upstairs to the rooftop balcony.
He says, “So, I thought that I could paint you today.”
I peer around and see an easel holding a blank canvas next to a table with paints and different-sized brushes.
Confused, I say, “You have painted me.”
“I know, but that was from memory. I’m sure I could do much better with the real thing in front of me.”
He gives me an inquiring glance and grabs my hand. He trails kisses from my fingers up my arm, and he ends at the base of my ear, skewing my equilibrium.
I shiver. “Sure. Why not? No one is going to see this, are they?” My voice trembles.
“Awesome. It will be for my ey
