Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jax

The gallery is packed when we enter, but a short woman dressed in all black with tattoo’s covering every inch of her exposed arms finds us immediately.

“Lily! Oh my god, everyone is raving about your painting!” The woman hugs Lily, but I catch Lily’s face wilt at her words. Face tense, Lily bites down hard on her lower lip and tries to smile, wanting to share in her friend’s excitement¸ but it’s obvious she’s nervous.

A man with a heavy French accent grabs Reed’s arm, grumbles a few words, and the two disappear as quickly as he came with a promise to return him as soon as he can.

“You okay?” Leaning down, I whisper to Lily.

“Does it show I’m not?”

“Not too much,” I smile as I lie.

Lily laughs, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be for me when people see it. I see models all the time without clothes and it doesn’t bother me a bit. I see art, not a naked woman. Yet when it’s me, I’m totally freaked out that people are going to see me naked.”

Stopping a waitress as she passes, I grab two crystal flutes and offer one to Lily. She declines. “You sure? Might help you calm your nerves.”

“I’m sure.” A weak smile teases her lips. “Do I look as nervous as I feel?”

“You look beautiful,” I tell her, and not because I want to calm her nerves and make her feel better. She just is. The carefully angled lighting in the gallery picks up the highlights in her wavy long blond hair, setting off a shimmer of gold that reflects off the green in her blue eyes. A few scarcely visible light freckles dot her perfect thin nose, leading down to full pink lips. Her gym attire is gone, traded in for a sexy electric blue dress that hugs her in all the right places. The hint of cleavage showing has me distracted as hell. If the painting is half as good as the real thing, it’s going to be a masterpiece.

A few minutes later, Reed returns an empty crystal flute in each hand. “You ready to go see it?”

I watch as she takes a deep breath and nervously fidgets with her hair. But then something changes. A determination passes over her delicate features. If I wasn’t watching her so closely I probably wouldn’t have even seen it. But I catch it and it makes me smile. She’s tougher than she looks on the outside and it makes her even sexier to me, if that’s even possible.

Together the three of us walk through the gallery, stopping to view each picture in silence. As we move onto each successive painting, I find my pulse beginning to quicken, wondering if the next painting will be the one.

After a dozen paintings, I’m growing impatient. Anxious, although I have no idea why. I’ve seen plenty of naked women before, both in person and painted. Hell, I grew up around art, so why is each step making my heart thud louder in my chest with anticipation?

Turning the corner, a crowd mills around a large piece, the murmur of quiet discussions louder than anywhere else. I know before we reach the viewing area, it’s going to be her. As we approach, two tall men step to the next painting, leaving a small clearing in the lingering crowd…perfect for my line of vision. Frozen in mid step, my breathing becomes more labored as my eyes take in the most beautiful sight they’ve ever seen.

Sitting on a sparse bed with nothing but a white sheet that looks as if it was gently dropped from covering her radiant skin, her head slightly bowed, captivating blue eyes look up at the artist from underneath long thick eyelashes. She looks like an angel. I really can’t decide if the pose is innocent or alluring, but the sexual tension that radiates from the canvas is palpable. It’s the sexiest god damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Sweet, yet incredibly seductive. Sensual. Beautiful. Every curve of her body soft and inviting, yet hard and incredibly erotic at the same time. The pink swells of her perky nipples jut from her lush pale skin, one hand rests casually on her slightly parted thighs, giving the illusion of seeing what lies between her perfectly posed legs, although nothing really shows.

My mouth unable to form words, I don’t answer as Lily looks up at me. Forcing my labored breath slower, I swallow hard, reaching for control of my thoughts. A nervous smile on her face, her voice so low I can barely hear it over the sound of my heart thumping against my chest wall, “What do you think?”

Struggling to direct my gaze to the woman that speaks and not the painting I can’t seem to take my eyes off, I respond, “I’m thinking I’m going to stand in front of it to block it, facing it.”

Lily smiles and elbows me in the ribs. “You’re impossible.”

“What? I’m a fan of the arts. I need to study the lines. And the curves. Definitely the curves,” I respond.

A man’s voice from behind me changes the tension I’m feeling from sexual to angry, taking me from the peaceful place the beautiful vision had brought me to fists balling up at my sides in just three words. I’d fuck her.

Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who hears it. Lily looks horrified, and the two classless assholes are lucky I make the snap decision to move Lily away from their comment and not knock them both on their asses. As I usher Lily to the next painting, I catch Reed quietly grumbling something to the men through gritted teeth before they both scurry away swiftly with pale faces.

At the next painting I excuse myself for a few minutes. I meet back up with Reed and Lily just as they complete their viewing of the exhibit.

“I have to do the meet and greet thing. I know it will be torture, but would you mind hanging with Lily for a while?” Reed asks jokingly when I return. He turns. “And you…don’t let it go to your head, I made you that beautiful. You’re really an ugly wench.”

Leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead, he squeezes both shoulders. I hear him speak quietly to her, “Your painting is gorgeous, just like you. Relax and enjoy.”

She rolls her eyes playfully.

Extending his hand to me with a wink that Lily doesn’t catch, “Take good care of my girl.”

I nod and smile. “Of course.”

We wander around for another hour, talking nonstop. Eventually the gallery moves from the early phase of serious viewers to the beginnings of an after party, Lily looks around uncomfortably.

“You want to get out of here?” I ask.

“Would you mind? It sort of freaks me out to be in the same room with that painting.” She motions in the direction of the corner her portrait hangs in. It’s still the busiest area of the room.

As we make our way to the door, I watch as the gallery owner places a cover over Lily’s painting, marking it as privately sold. Luckily, Lily doesn’t notice.