Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
She huffed and danced out of my reach once more, making me scowl.
“I can see now why they say that Americans are more prudish than the French,” she sighed. “You are not going to win this one.”
“On verra ça,” I muttered under my breath. I would win this argument eventually, but it seemed I would have to ease Kerrigan into her surrender. “Alright, miette. How about a compromise?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
“How about just a sheet?”
“A sheet?” She eyed me suspiciously. “Like Venus of Urbino?”
“I would be more than happy to paint you like that, petite miette,” I said with a devilish grin.
“Try again,” she sniffed haughtily.
I tapped my chin as I contemplated options. “Neoclassical Nude by Francesco Trombadori?”
“Next.”
“The Birth of Venus?”
“Not going to happen.”
“Venus Italica?”
“Better, but still no.”
I ran through more options in my head before taking another shot. “La Grande Odalisque?”
Kerrigan bit her lip as she thought over my proposal, then she muttered, “Fine. But only if you cover my ass with the sheet.”
I grinned and closed the distance between us before she could scurry away. “Deal,” I grunted before I grasped her biceps and lifted her so I could kiss her. “Merci, miette.”
Her face was flushed when I set her back on her feet, but she grumbled, “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
“Wait here.” I gave her a quick peck before jogging over to a door across the room. I pushed it open and stepped inside the storage closet. Shelves of supplies lined each wall, including one that held a stack of clean, white sheets. I didn’t like using tarps beneath my easels because they would never lay perfectly flat. And they were a bitch to clean. So I’d started using sheets, and when I was finished, I threw them in the wash and returned them to the closet.
They were splattered with stains from the pigments I used, but it wasn’t dried paint, so it wouldn’t feel rough or itchy against Kerrigan’s soft skin.
Before exiting the room, I checked the lock on the false wall across from the door. There were three paintings from our last shipment that I’d been working on, and the last thing I wanted was for Kerrigan to stumble across the masterpieces I was cleaning and restoring. The rest of the cargo was locked in the secret vault underneath the Belladonna Gallery.
When I strolled into the studio’s open space, Kerrigan scowled at the fabric I was carrying, causing a chuckle to rumble in my chest.
I pointed at a cracked door near the counter and placed the sheets in her hands with a wink. “You can change in there, miette.”
She grumbled all the way over to the bathroom, and I waited until the door clicked shut to release my laughter.
“I can hear you, Aston!” she shouted through the door.
“Can I help it if you are très adorable?”
I looked around the room, trying to decide on the best place to set up. Once I picked a spot, I crossed to the door that led to my office and unlocked it. Inside were several pieces of furniture in addition to my desk. One of them was a French Style Louis XV Chaise Lounge with black velvet and gold leafing.
Carefully, I dragged it into the main room and set it up where the lighting was exactly as I wanted.
When the bathroom door opened, Kerrigan hesitantly shuffled out, a sheet wrapped tightly around her sweet curves all the way to her ankles. Her eyes swept over the space I’d set up, and when they landed on the sofa, they narrowed.
“I take it you’ve painted other women on that thing?” Her tone was haughty, but I didn’t miss the thread of hurt.
Smiling gently, I crossed over to her and wrapped her in my arms. “Jamais, petite miette. Never.”
She remained stiff in my embrace and raised a single eyebrow.
“When I built this studio, my brother Charles gave me that chaise as a joke,” I informed her with a lopsided smile. “There is a television show we used to watch together, and in one episode, an artist paints one of the characters in his boxers, posed provocatively on a sofa much like this one.”
Kerrigan’s lips curved, and her green pools sparkled with merriment as the tension seeped from her muscles. “I remember that one. The glasses, black socks, and balding head really dialed up the sexy.”
I frowned playfully and tightened my arms around her. “I don’t like hearing you call another man sexy, miette.”
Kerrigan giggled and went up on her toes to place a sweet kiss on my lips. “Don’t worry. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known, Aston Couillens. I only see you.”
“Good,” I grunted before taking her mouth in a deep kiss that had us both gasping for breath when we pulled away.
“I’d like to meet your brother someday,” she said with a soft smile. “He sounds like quite the character.”