Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series (13 page)

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t restrain your hair again. It looks good down. You finally look like the passionate guy you so poetically and drunkenly kept informing me you were the other night.”

“Passionate, eh? That’s sounds like cognac talking. What else did I say?”

“Many things, and all before you finished your drunken dissertation by begging me to stay the night,” Brooke declared, crossing her arms and glaring.

Drake looked away from her. “I don’t remember that part, but I guess it must have worked, since you did.”

“I was mesmerized and couldn’t leave. You fell asleep after delivering a zinger. I was trying to be there when you woke up so I could hear more about it. Do you really practice Tantric sex?”

“Oh fucking hell,” Drake said, hiding his face in his hand. “What did I say about that?”

“Not nearly enough to explain your current blushing, Dr. Barrymore.”

When Drake groaned and hung his head, Brooke burst out laughing. It was hard to believe the blushing man was the same one who had seduced her so well a few weeks ago. She now wished he’d taken his hair down that night. The sight of it made her excited. It also had her thinking about a repeat—damn her weakness anyway.

The man was a puzzle to her…one she hadn’t yet solved. She had enough unknowns in her life at the moment, but at least she could handle this one.

“I can’t do this anymore, Drake. I’m tired of fighting. Want to stay for pizza? I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I needed this break more than I realized. It feels good to laugh and stop thinking about my students for a while.”

“So you’re done being upset at me? Just like that?” Drake asked, holding out his hands.

Brooke giggled at his disbelief. “Well, I’m still upset, but maybe I need a break from that too. I’m tired of thinking about how irritated I am. I’ll make you a deal. You can stay and have pizza with me if you leave your hair down.”

Drake snorted and ran a hand through his loose locks. He wasn’t used to wearing it down. “Leave my hair down? You’re kidding me.”

Brooke crossed her arms again. “I tease and joke, but I do not kid about my man candy. I like my men sexy and dark and…
passionate
. You spent an hour describing yourself with that very term, so it must fit you. And you should appreciate me attaching it to you when you look the part.”

“Are you mocking me? I swear I can never tell with you.” Drake stood and walked to the couch. He dropped down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m feeling insecure as hell about us and I need a hug. Are you inclined to give me one?”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

Brooke giggled and let him wrap her in his arms. His cologne floated around them both. She breathed in it—a scent that was uniquely him. Drake was masculinity personified.

Turning her face to his for a kiss required no thought from her at all. His lips were gentle instead of demanding, but he nipped her bottom one as he pulled away. He might think he didn’t have any game, but the man had moves…she’d give him that.

“With your hair down, you look like you belong on a romance novel cover. What do you like on your pizza, Man Candy?” she teased, lifting a hand to stroke his dark hair. It was soft to her touch.

“Everything,” Drake said huskily, his mind not on eating pizza at all. “Are you going to give me another chance to prove I can be a decent guy to date?”

Brooke smiled. “Are you going to explain the Tantric sex comment if I agree?”

She giggled when his face turned red again.

“What are you embarrassed about, Drake? I know how experienced you are already. You seduced me against a door and gave me two orgasms. You even made me forget how mad I was at you staring at your naked student’s breasts while I watched. I can only concede so much here. Come on and confess.”

“So you can say orgasm, but not sex or penis? I don’t understand you, Brooke Daniels. Are you a prude or only pretending to be one so you can torment me?”

Brooke poked him in the chest. “I’m not a prude. I’m complex…and you are avoiding my question.”

“Which one of the dozen?” Drake demanded, as he rubbed a hand over his face.

“Did you practice Tantric sex with your booty-call woman?”

Drake glared and narrowed his gaze. “Will you please stop calling her that?”

Brooke snickered at his plea. “Sorry—I forgot her name. I hate competition. I don’t like thinking about you and other women.”

Drake’s hand tugging a handful of her curls to tilt her head until he could see her face had her giggles dying. He apparently had no trouble being in control when he wanted to be…or when he wanted to make her listen to him.

“Oh, there you are, Passionate Man. You had me worried. For a while there, I thought that fierce, sexy man who seduced me had been a figment of my imagination,” she whispered, staring into his questioning gaze.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Brooke.”

“I’m not jealous. I’ve never been jealous. I’m not the type.”

Drake snorted as he tightened his grip. “You have a hell of a lot to learn about yourself. I hope I have the patience to be with you while you’re doing it.”

His mouth settling hotly on her laughing one obliterated any snappy comeback she might have thought of fast enough to deliver. His tongue stroking along hers as he delved deeply, had her arms coming up to pull him closer. But just when his sensual assault started to get really interesting, Drake grabbed her wrists and pulled them between their bodies. He removed his mouth from hers too.

“No. I don’t want to settle every argument we have with sex, no matter how much I want to push you back on this sorry excuse for furniture and get inside you again. But I’m afraid the damn thing would break on us with the mood I’m in. I’m feeling the need for make-up sex.”

“Make-up sex?”

She laughed until Drake lowered her hands to his lap and ran them over his growing interest while he used his thumbs to stroke her fingers.

“Yes. Hard…pressing…long-lasting…make-up sex,” he whispered.

Brooke became dizzy with desire as she listened. She could feel his intentions in the firm way his fingers stroked hers. She bit her bottom lip and raised her gaze.

“Make-up sex. Okay. Let’s do it.”

Groaning in genuine anguish, Drake brought her hands up to his chest and leaned toward her until his forehead touched hers. “No. I can’t. Seduction between us is easy, and it was only easy for me once before you. It’s true I lust for you constantly, but I also want you to like me…if you can.”

Brooke backed away and blinked. Her mind was still clouded with thoughts of what her hands had discovered in his lap. Thinking was not only difficult…it was nearly impossible. She stared at his unbound hair, his fierce gaze, and his kiss-swollen mouth. It made her wonder what she looked like to him.

The urge to throw herself into Drake arms swept over her.

She didn’t want to give him a chance to make excuses. He’d already messed up her life, so she might as well enjoy the benefits, as well as the aggravation. The boys she’d spent time with in college all faded to sweet memories in his presence. Drake’s interest kept her rooted in the present.

No fantasy her mind had ever created had been as good as the reality of the man’s lovemaking. She had never wanted anyone the way she wanted Drake Barrymore. But her lust for only him didn’t necessarily mean he was
the one
—not yet. It just meant her taste in men was changing.

“Maybe I should order pizza now. That seems safest.”

“Probably a good idea.”

Drake squeezed her hands tightly once more before setting them free. He stood, turned his back, and adjusted himself before going back to sit in the chair. She wanted to grab the back of his shirt, spin him back around to her, and plaster her mouth to his until there was nothing else on either of their minds.

Brooke swallowed at her runaway lustful thoughts and stood, trying to remember where she might have put her phone.

“You scramble my brain,” she accused as she hunted for it.

“It's because I’m obsessed with you. I can’t help being intense about what I’m feeling.”

She watched Drake link his hands together in his lap to hide his stubborn erection. Her mind short-circuited as she imagined pulling them apart and climbing into his lap. It took her several minutes to find her damn phone because she was more interested in finding out what was going on under his hands. Drake’s steady, sympathetic gaze as his eyes followed her around the room didn’t make the task any easier either.

Locating her phone finally, Brooke speed dialed. Minutes later, their food was on its way.

“I have a bottle of red wine in the kitchen. Interested in a glass…or two?”

“Absolutely. When we get to the second glass, I want to hear about your visit to my classroom. I want a chance to defend myself from your crazy thoughts about it.”

Fisting a hand on her hip, Brooke glared at him, but dropped it when she saw his eyes crinkle at the edges. His amusement increased her irritation with him, but also earned her respect.

She was grateful her lust for him had finally faded enough for her to get a grip on herself.

Chapter 11

Brooke walked to the short kitchen counter and pulled a bottle of her favorite red wine from the rack Shane had left for her. It was the last bottle of the three she’d purchased a couple weeks ago. Grading was the teaching task she hated most and her stress level over it showed in her low stock of lubrication. She was down to the last set of papers—thankfully. She could probably get through them with a calming herbal tea if necessary.

“We’re two very different people, Drake. Our age difference doesn’t bother me, but I’ve had serious reservations from the beginning about getting involved with you. It wasn’t a point in your favor that you overrode them. Frankly, I still don’t know how I feel about a man who can destroy my ability to think like a rational human being.”

“Rational thinking is overrated. It keeps you from taking chances.”

“You wouldn’t understand how intimidating people like you are to the rest of us normal human beings. You just assume everyone thinks like you and wants to lay bare their soul to the world.”

“Is that your segue back to discussing what you saw in my class? I’m unclear where this conversation is headed, Dr. Daniels.”

Brooke snickered at her speech and his question. Drake was no stranger to verbal sparring—that much was obvious. The truth was she’d all but forgotten the naked woman in his class. Well, more like the woman had ceased to matter to her. The whole thing actually seemed like it happened years ago.

A lot had transpired since that day. She’d slept with Drake as she’d intended to—once figuratively and once literally. She’d also scheduled herself for breast surgery and still hadn’t told a soul what was happening.

It wasn’t that she was keeping the lump in her breast a secret on purpose. She’d just been waiting for the right time to talk to her mother about it. She definitely wasn’t up to telling the man sitting in her chair about her physical flaw yet, even if there was no good way of getting out of the rest of the discussion Drake seemed determined to have tonight.

“Did Michael talk to you about my conversation with him?” Brooke asked, keeping her back to Drake as she added an aerator to the bottle.

Behind her, she heard him sigh. For some reason, his willingness to confess made her forgive him instantly. She turned to see him nodding.

“Yes. Michael came to see me. He said you had gone to see him because you were upset over what you saw in my class.”

Brooke shook her head and snorted as she turned back to their drinks and poured.

“Now I totally believe my mother’s story about Michael and Shane going to see her at school and begging her to date Will. I guess him coming to see you means Michael has decided we should be dating.”

“I don’t care about that. Michael’s opinion doesn’t really count. What have you decided about it?”

Sighing and wondering if she could keep from revealing truths she wasn’t ready to share yet, Brooke turned and walked back with their glasses.

“We don’t have very much in common, Drake.”

“Well, that’s true so far,” he said flatly, sipping his wine.

Brooke laughed. “Somehow I didn’t think you’d agree so easily.”

“I’m an artist and pragmatic. It’s an unusual combination. I still want you. That’s also pragmatic. But I’d rather you didn’t think poorly of my art or my career in teaching it before I get to like sleeping with you too much. That’s pragmatic too…and a form of self-protection.”

Brooke shook her head. “It’s not just you. It’s Mom, Will, and Shane. Michael’s art doesn’t really show anything. He just brags about his sex life all the time. You’d think Carrie was the only woman he’d ever slept with. And it’s not that I think poorly of your art. I just don’t understand every artist’s fascination with the subject of sex.”

Drake grinned. “I could show you in about two minutes how to make a philosopher fascinated with sex. Then maybe you’d organically understand, and we could be spared this painful conversation.”

“No thank you. This conversation is way overdue. What we have between us is our personal magic—not something I plan to announce to the world, let alone be discussed. Growing up as Jessica Daniel’s daughter, there was no choice but to discuss a glass vagina, no matter how embarrassed I felt about what it was. Don’t get me started about how hard it was to hear Mom talk with people about her rape art…in fact it still is. I hate to hear her reliving it over and over.”

Drake leaned back in his chair. He was glad to learn that part of Brooke’s problem with his work was really about her mother. He had hated thinking it was just his art.

“Glass vaginas don’t seem very intimidating to me. They’re nearly as innocuous as glass birds or ornaments or whatever. An average Joe could pick one up and not readily even recognize what it was unless he was a sensual person. However—I can absolutely see how talking about your mother’s rape art would have been very challenging since you survived the incident with her. You were part of the inspiration for it. I can see how it would disturb you.”