her, the fine hairs along her arms stirred. She used all her self-control not to look, until finally she did. All the crazy stuff Cheryl had said to her about affairs and no strings and all that madness had come back to her. She looked. She couldn’t stand it.
Man bun was staring.
She blinked slowly and then tried to pull her gaze back from his. It was almost impossible. Dark-brown eyes, so dark they seemed like they could swallow her up. His equally dark hair was tied up at the back in a modern day hipster samurai bun. She should have found it amusing. He was probably five or six years her junior. But the whole package – the broad shoulders, the bun, the liquid ink eyes, and then he tossed in a half-smile – was pretty spectacular.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and she was severely aware of that wetness between her thighs returning. With a vengeance.
She was almost out the door, on her way to her car. Dani had a hankering for a big-ass glass of wine, hell, maybe a bottle. The adrenalin rush had reemerged when she’d been told to put her clothes back on. She’d done it. She had actually fucking done it. She found herself clutching her tote bag and her purse with trembling fingers and her legs felt made of wet spaghetti.
‘Hello?’
She turned, one hand rising to her chest to cover her thumping heart, because this hall had no other classes this evening and he’d scared the hell out of her.
Man bun.
‘Um … oh, hi. Sorry, you scared me.’
‘Sorry.’ He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded skinny jeans. No doubt very expensive jeans that were manipulated and abused to look as if they’d received years of steady use to make them soft and distressed. ‘Wasn’t my intention.’
She nodded, waiting, heart now pounding like some wild tribal drum. What was this?
‘I don’t usually do this …’ He trailed off. She saw, despite his confident personal fashion and roguish straying eyebrow, he was rather shy.
‘Do what?’ she prompted.
He chuckled. It was a lovely self-deprecating, deep sound. ‘Confuse women in the hallway.’ He sighed, leaning against a locker and regarded her. ‘What I meant to say is I don’t usually see women out of their clothes until after I’ve asked them out. This time I’m reversing it. Asking out a woman I’ve already seen out of her clothes.’
‘You don’t know my name,’ she said, stupidly.
‘You could fix that. You could tell me.’
‘Dani,’ she said. ‘Dani Young.’
‘Kevin Buck,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘But I did know your name, remember? The prof told us.’
She took it but a small laugh escaped her. She had forgotten. Entirely. ‘Buck?’
He nodded, eyes shining with amusement. ‘Yep. Buck. I’ve gotten them all. Young Buck, Don’t give a Buck, Quick Buck …’
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook and released, uncomfortable with how much she liked the feel of his hand on hers. ‘I’ve just never heard that name before. I wasn’t making judgement. Sorry about the names too …’
He shook his head, took a step back as if to show her how harmless and charming he was. ‘No big deal. It could have been worse. A lot worse. So about that proposal of mine …’
‘Going out?’
‘A drink maybe?’
‘When?’ Had she just asked when? She’d meant to say no.
‘Wednesday after class?’
Dani swallowed hard. Cheryl’s voice was echoing in her head. Her encouragement to explore. When she opened her mouth again she heard herself say, ‘Yes. Sure. That’s great.’
He nodded – it was nearly a bow – and the samurai bun bobbed. She smiled. A few small tendrils had escaped, and she imagined he liked it like that, but she had the urge to tuck them back into the artfully messy mass he’d created. And to see if his hair was as soft as it looked.
Instead, she pushed her hands into her jacket pocket and said, ‘I’ll see you at class, then.’
‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Maybe when I’m done I can show you my sketch of you.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I want to see that.’
There went that errant eyebrow again.
She cleared her throat. ‘What I mean is, I don’t want to see myself. It makes me … twitchy. There’s a better chance I’ll stick with this if I don’t see myself. If I see myself on paper from someone else’s perspective … I’d probably not like it. It would probably upset me.’
Why was she telling him this? Nerves. It was the only answer she had.
He moved a little closer and brushed her shoulder with his palm. ‘It makes me sad to hear that. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind,’ he said. ‘You’re spectacular.’
The next thing she knew she was pushing out into the chilly night. It felt like they’d get their first frost. Dani watched her breath make ghosts in the darkness as she exhaled. She’d survived her first class and man bun, aka Kevin, had asked her out.
‘Not too shabby,’ she whispered.
* * *
He was painting her. Kevin Buck. With his dark, mussed man bun and his bottomless gaze. But not on paper. Not on canvas. He was painting her. He had his tongue tucked between his teeth as he worked. Every time the slick cool smear of paint touched her skin, followed by the kiss of a red sable brush, she had to suppress a shiver. But worse than that, every stroke he laid down on her skin as he worked acted as a bellows to the heat that was growing between her legs. Dani shifted just a little and he said softly, ‘Stay still, Dani.’
The paint whirled around her nipple. Which instantly stiffened and went insane. The flesh wanting to tingle and ache all at the same time. She squeezed her thighs together and that only made it worse. Vibrant cobalt blue began to cover that small halo of flesh. He dipped, he swirled, he dipped, he swirled, and she found she couldn’t catch her breath.
‘I told you that you were spectacular,’ Kevin said, grinning. Now a small paintbrush was clamped between his white teeth. Teeth, she noticed, that were just crooked enough to be adorable and charming.
He found a larger brush, examined it and nodded as if it pleased him. She managed a small sip of air, enough to steady her buzzy head a little.
The large brush made bright streaks of cool orange paint down from just below her blushing-blue breast and towards her navel. Her stomach muscles trembled and he didn’t say a word. It was obvious she had no control over something as instinctive and primitive as that tremble.
He painted past the shallow divot of her belly button and the thick streak landed right above her mound.
Is he going to paint my pussy? … is he going to stroke that over my clit? … is he going to? … is he going to?
The words were a runaway freight train running through her mind. She bit her tongue and tried to keep her focus.
‘Your colour balance is off,’ said a voice.
They both looked up to find Chris there. She nearly died. The heat between her thighs became liquid and uncontrollable. Now he was here. Watching. Watching Kevin paint her … literally.
Kevin stopped and stared at his instructor. ‘I disagree.’
‘She should be in reds and golds, maybe a touch of copper. It matches who she is.’