Brush Strokes Read Online Free Page B

same style.
What makes my paintings mine will be there, but the signs of my
growth will contrast sharply with what’s already there. At least it
should.”
    He moved away, painting in hand, and
headed toward her studio. “What choice do you have?”
    None. The answer was
simple.
    She stood rooted to the spot, unable
to call out to him to stop. Hell, to even come up with a better
game plan. Joe wasn’t an artist; he couldn’t understand what he
asked was impossible. Her mind didn’t allow her the luxury of
starting something and then stopping, at her whim. Her creativity
came in unexpected bursts of energy. She was either ready to deal
with it the moment it hit or she wasn’t. With the disorder of Mr.
Killian’s visit weighing heavily on her mind, the last thing she
felt was creative.
    Art burned inside of her. Thrived. She
didn’t know how not to create. Even in the past when she’d decided
to pursue a career a lot more lucrative and a lot more stable, she
always found herself drawn back to the canvas. But just because art
was a part of her didn’t mean it always came when called. Bitch of
a thing.
    Maybe she could give her benefactor a
call. Have a serious heart to heart with the man. Maybe he’d
understand.
    Maybe she’d hit the lotto on the way
over to his place, too.
    With a resigned sigh, she headed
toward the studio. She’d try. She could offer nothing
more.
    Once inside, her stride
broke the moment she spotted Joe. He’d stripped and waited
expectantly for her arrival. As many times as she’d seen him naked,
she couldn’t get used to her immediate reaction. Her perusal of his
body forced a small mental utterance of thanks for man -kind.
    And when he struck that pose? The one
that made his entire body stretch into its own work of art, a
stance of power. One that made it very clear he knew the level of
his own sensuality, her heart thudded loudly against her ribcage.
Every. Single. Time.
    Focus. Employee, not lover. Employee, not eye-candy.
Employee.
    Oh, but damn. Her mind betrayed her
with the image of him on his knees yesterday, weakened by an orgasm
they’d wrung out of him. A strange thrill of exhilaration made her
blood pump wildly in her veins from the knowledge she’d done that
to him. Maybe, just maybe, he shook loose thoughts of her as his
employer and could slide easily into a different kind of
relationship with her instead.
    One day she’d have to find out what he
felt like. How spreading her legs for him, pussy dripping with
cream, breasts taut with anticipation, hands curled into fists at
her sides…she would find out what it meant to fuck him. Lift her
hips to heaven and let him sink his cock into her velvet-lined
folds. The same folds she stroked with trembling hands after they
finished an art session. Sometimes before he’d even made it to the
sidewalk outside of her apartment.
    Employee. Right.
    Tanya donned the smock hanging from a
peg on the wall and walked to the easel. A frown crossed her
features when she reached for the palette because her stupid hands
were trembling. Trembling! What was that about?
    She shrugged it off; she
had other things to worry about. Despite the little homage she paid
when she ogled Joe, she sent a loose petition for help to her muse
and got ready to work. Thoughts of art shows only four days away
were shoved aside and she uncapped a tube of paint. Focus.
    “ It’s time for a
break.”
    Tanya looked past the canvas.
“What?”
    Joe rolled his head over his shoulders
in an exaggerated motion. “Time for a break. My muscles are locking
up on me.”
    “ But Joe,” she griped,
looking toward the wall clock. “Oh.”
    He chuckled. “Not as hard as you
thought it’d be, huh?”
    Five hours. When the hell
had that much time passed? She’d spent so much time fussing and
prepping and fixing. There wasn’t a lot of progress on the painting
to speak of, but there was progress.
    Joe sidled next to her, his attention
on the canvas. “You are…amazing,