19. Chapter Nineteen

Rip

Rose and I are developing interesting rhythms. Though we've only known each other a few days, our lives are meshing together as though we've been together for years.

We cook together, clean together, and together we decide how to spend our days.

It's afternoon as we return to the cottage with six fish on the stringer that Rose gets the most interesting smirk on her face.

"Looks like you're hiding a secret, Miss Bennet. Care to share."

By the way her eyes flare wide, I can't help but wonder if her secret is about sex, and, by process of deductive reasoning, if it includes me.

"You'll see later. I, um, thought that after lunch you could give me another painting lesson."

Her tone dipped low on those last two words. My eyebrow lifts and my cock twitches as I realize this is going to be interesting. Last night, after she practically passed out from the force of her orgasm, I took care of myself in the bathroom. Then, since it's been over a hundred years, I did it again as I reassured myself Rose and I were going at just the right speed. Well, the right speed for her.

I've waited a long time for this. What difference does another week make in the vast scheme of things?

Her phone makes that funny rumble for the third time today, and for the third time today, she gets an odd expression on her face. It's a combination of guilt and… fear?

"Does your phone need your attention?" I'm not quite sure exactly how the technology works or what it's capable of. Is it demanding something?

"That's one of the joys of being in this remote forest. No one knows if they got through to me or not."

Though she plastered a smile on her face and tossed her head as though she doesn't have a care in the world, there's something about her smile that isn't quite right. I guess she'll open up to me in due time.

Cooking together is fun as usual. She lets me filet the fish, then we dip it in egg and dredge it in flour. After it's crispy, we eat it with these amazing orange crisps called Cheetos.

"My guilty pleasure," she admitted when she shook the bag, opened it, and shared the contents with me.

"We'll have to get more of these," I say with my mouth full. "Are our fingers supposed to turn this color?" I ask, wiggling my fingers at her like I'm going to paint her with orange dust.

"It's a hazard that comes with the deliciousness." She shrugs with a smile. "The official diagnosis is Cheetosis."

She had me going for half a moment, but I realize the dust licks right off.

After we've cleaned up, that half-guilty, half-impish look returns to her face when she suggests, "How about we paint inside for our next lesson?"

I have a feeling this is going to be good. Is she going to let me paint her nude? My cock springs to life behind my jeans.

"Sure. Let me set up the easel and canvas." I can't hide my eager grin.

I splay out the brushes and squeeze some paint on the palette.

"Ready."

"That's not quite it, actually." When she fully turns and faces me, her face is ablaze with embarrassment.

I take her hands into mine and squeeze gently.

"What is it? Tell me."

Rose's expression is too serious as she takes a deep breath. "I-I… Can I… um, would you let me paint you? In the nude?" Her cheeks are getting pinker with every word. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, but it springs right out again.

Wait. What? She wants to paint me? Not the other way around? Sweet Jesus! My cock is now hard enough to chop wood.

"Yes. Sure. Paint away," I say, my heart pumping at double speed in my chest.

Rose smiles, relieved. When she assesses my body and undresses me with her eyes, I blush, feeling oddly emotional, as if I'm suddenly the shy one!

Rose lets her gaze drift softly down from my face, along the length of my chest and stomach, before coming to rest on the pulsing bulge behind my zipper.

She stares intently at it for a few moments before finally meeting my eyes again with an unspoken question. I smile reassuringly, letting her know she can continue looking if she wants, even though I'm feeling strange at this unexpected turn of events.

Taking my time, I remove each piece of clothing, like I'm unwrapping a gift for her. I start with my shirt, unbuttoning each button one by one until it falls open. The fabric slides off my shoulders and down my arms, giving Rose a full view of my bare chest. Her breath hitches as she takes in the sight of me, her eyes narrow in appreciation.

Feeling less awkward, I slide my jeans over my hips before kicking them away. I'm now standing in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that are so tented the extent of my arousal is unmistakable.

I've painted dozens of nude models before my long sleep. They often acted bored, as though they couldn't wait for the gig to be over so they could collect their pay.

There's nothing boring about standing exposed in front of Rose, especially with the way her eyes rove hungrily over my body. This is hot, sexy. I'm growing more aroused by the second.

Rose's face is pink now, cheeks flushed with desire as she takes in every angle and plane of my torso. Her gaze is so intense it feels almost tangible. She swallows hard before finally tearing her gaze from inspecting me to finally look into my eyes. The sexual tension radiates between us, a shimmering wave of raw emotion.

My body is alive with sensations, my skin feels as though it's on fire, and my blood pounds in my ears. This is what it feels like to be wanted. I never felt this way with Isabelle. With her, I was a toy. I see that now. With Rose, we're touching souls.