Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series (22 page)

He thought “mine” when he studied her, but didn’t say it. He was going to have enough to answer for tomorrow. The rest would have to wait.

Brooke laughed at Drake’s quiet grunting and sighing every few seconds. It was funny how much she could tell about his lust level from the sounds he made.

“Forgive you for what—which thing?” she asked.

She felt him sliding down her body. The delicate strap of the teddy’s thong got roughly pulled to the side. It broke on the next hard tug the other way. She giggled at his sweaty, hot palm encircling her thigh and gripping hard as Drake swore about what he’d done. She loved knowing he was so excited by her.

“Damn it—I broke it. I’m sorry. Oh hell,” she heard.

Drake’s swearing made her laugh until his tongue pierced her and obliterated all thought. Her scream two minutes later was rewarded by her body being flipped mid-climax.

Drake pushed and tugged her to knees, and then wrapped his body over the back of hers as he pushed the torn lace clear of her hips. He rubbed his erection between her legs until she was swearing at him for the torture. Penetration had never felt quite so relieving before, when she’d finally talked him into it. She pushed her hips back against his in demand and he seated himself as deeply as he could.

She felt Drake lever himself off her back, which changed the angle of their connection. Holding her hips in his hands, he began to move inside her, once again exercising a control he never admitted to. Grinning over his natural aggression, Brooke roughly imploded several deep thrusts later. Then she exhaustively climaxed yet another time when Drake slowed every thrust to draw out the end for her.

It was sex in bullet-time after that, and she couldn’t do anything but say his name and beg him to finish. The man was beyond talented.

She collapsed onto the sheets when he finally let himself go and whispered her name. After he stopped moving, Drake lowered himself to her back again and kissed her neck and shoulders. Contentment had her drifting into a dream state as his body covered hers so warmly.

Her little mew of pleasure about it all had him chuckling in her ear. “You are amazing. I love you, Brooke.”

“So sleepy…” she whispered, drifting off with him still whispering into her ear as he brushed back her hair.

Later she woke up alarmed when Drake rolled her to her back. She felt him removing what was left of her lace teddy, which she doubted was much. You had to appreciate a man who could destroy your underwear. She got a whiff of something and waved a hand under her nose.

“Something smells funny,” she admitted, feeling for the blindfold so she could investigate the stench. Drake’s hand covered hers and pulled it back down.

“No. Leave it on…just a little longer.” Drake kissed her now naked breasts. “It’s just my paints smelling so bad. I’m sorry about the smell, but I’m almost done. Go back to sleep now. I’ll be finished next time you wake up.”

“What about you? Aren’t you sleepy?”

“No. I’m living every artist’s dream. I’m painting the sexiest woman on earth. This is very relaxing for me.”

“Well your art stinks—but only literally. I actually think you’re very talented—in bed and out,” Brooke said softly, letting herself drift off again when he laughed at her teasing.

She felt short, soft strokes of something on her skin and it tickled. Drake grabbed her hand and ordered her not to touch it when she tried to brush it away. She snickered at his tight grip, smiling about how often the man restrained her without conscious thought. She drifted into the waiting blackness when Drake planted a series of kisses along one hip.

Drake linked his fingers with Brooke’s to keep her hands from traveling. Watching Brooke settle back into sleep, Drake kept his gaze on her face as he blew across his latest design. Work was going fast because it wasn’t taking long for the markers to dry. The evening hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned, but the net result was turning out better than he’d imagined.

He capped the last permanent marker and hoped Brooke would forgive him for the one white lie he’d told her tonight. His artwork wasn’t washing off in one shower in the morning, but then he’d never intended it to. She wouldn’t have agreed if she’d known what he planned, but his intentions were among the most honorable of his life.

He ran a loving hand over her pelvis. Her body was a haven for him. He hoped he got to keep her for a long time.

“Art is its own language and all the mojo I have in this world, Brooke Daniels. Now all that’s left is for us to pay the devil his due and send death away from your door. I hope it works this time.”

He watched Brooke sleeping peacefully as he dressed in the wee hours of the morning. He didn’t want to be there when she woke. She needed to have the shock alone.

Maybe she wouldn’t understand what he’d done to her body any more than she did about the models in his class. Maybe all he’d done in making her his art tonight was give Brooke something else to yell at him about later. But whether she understood or not, he’d at least shared with her all his hopes and dreams for the two of them. That and his love was all that was within his power to give any woman.

He let himself out of the apartment and used the key Michael had given him to lock up. He grinned as he put it in his pocket knowing he was never giving it back.

Chapter 17

The sun was barely rising when Jessica pulled her car into the parking lot. She slung the bag in the passenger’s seat over her shoulder and walked at a rapid clip toward the building. Brooke’s frantic call had made no sense, but she’d come tearing over here anyway. Her daughter needed her and that was really the only thing that mattered.

Maybe Brooke was worried about the doctors finding something more today. Maybe she was worried about waking up and finding out she was already missing a breast. Any woman would be concerned.

The door to the apartment was opened a crack so she could let herself in. Accepting her daughter’s unspoken invitation to enter, Jessica slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

“Brooke?”

“In the bedroom, Mom. Hurry. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Jessica’s feet flew across the floor, the bag bouncing against her side. She stopped and drew in a breath when she saw her nearly naked daughter standing in front of a mirrored closet door.

“Oh My God. Look at you.”

She tiptoed across the bedroom and peered down at her daughter’s breasts. One was covered in writing. She tilted her head. It was a poem…no…it was… “
Scripture?
”

Brooke nodded. “Yes. From
Song of Solomon
. It’s where King Solomon was complimenting his lover’s breasts.”

“Honey, there’s pictures on your back…and symbols…and a lot of words.”

“I know. I can’t even see them all. I need you to take pictures for me…in case they get removed later. He only left the breast they’re operating on free of art and that’s nearly the only skin not covered in something.”

Jessica nodded numbly. “Yes. I can see that. Are you sure you want me to take pictures?”

“Yes,” Brooke said, admiring the symbols adorning her shoulders. “I have ankhs on my shoulders and infinity knots on both arms. I can’t see everything on the back. I don’t want any of it to be lost.”

“There are two more poems back here. One is Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The other is Robert Browning. I applaud both choices.”

“If you think those are great, you should see my ass. The writing was large enough for me to read in the mirror,” Brooke said, staring at her mother’s shock.

“He wrote poetry on your ass? I think I’m jealous.”

Brooke laughed when both her mother’s eyebrows went up. She slid her panties down to reveal her ass cheeks to the most outrageous woman she’d even known. Said woman very predictably put a hand over her mouth and laughed hard behind it.

“Oh God…he’s every bit as wonderful I ever imagined. I give him double points for originality.”

“Well, at least he phrased it as a question. From the stories I’ve heard, that’s more than any bossy Larson male ever did.”

Jessica made a face and shrugged. “True,” she admitted, biting her lip as she stared.

She watched her daughter admiring herself, including her decorated backside.

“Aren’t you mad at Drake for this? It looks like he used permanent markers. It’s not going to wash off before you have to go to the hospital this morning.”

Brooke lifted her chin. “Well I was mad at first…until I saw my ass. He got to me with that. I admit it, I have a weakness for the man.”

Jessica covered her mouth to stifle her giggle of happiness.

Brooke glared. “Oh, go ahead and get it out. I know you’re dying to say I told you so. I knew you were going to laugh when you saw this, but I couldn’t take enough selfies from all the angles I needed. You were the only person I could call.”

“Right,” Jessica said, taking the bag off her shoulder. She put it on the rumpled bed and smiled at the wrinkled sheets as she removed the camera from the bag. “So what are you going to do about him? Are you leaving him unscathed?”

Brooke snorted and looked over her shoulder as her mother uncapped the lens. The first picture caught a pensive look on her face as she pondered Drake’s fate. The next caught a wicked smile as she considered the irony of what he’d done.

“Mom…I might have cancer. There might not be enough time to get even with him.”

Jessica lowered the camera. “Or you might not have cancer…let’s go with that thought and plot his demise.”

“But don’t you see. That’s the whole point,” Brooke said. “How can I tell Drake I love him right now? I’m…my life is crazy mixed up.”

Jessica raised the camera to her eye. “I know it is. Drop your undies again, honey.”

Sighing, Brooke lowered her panties. Then changing her mind, she dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them. Drake had drawn words on the backs of her thighs as well as her butt. Most of the terms that covered her body were just positive thoughts—what some would call validations. Whatever term she used on his handiwork, it was the most ridiculous, loving, wonderful thing she could think of anyone ever doing for her.

But romantic gestures aside, she also knew why the chicken-shit man had snuck away in the night. His late night exodus gave wham, bam, thank you ma’am a whole new meaning after giving her a triple orgasm…the cowardly bastard.

Of course, Drake had missed her screeching harpy initial reaction and the dance of shock in front of the mirror when she saw how covered she was. She would never be able to sleep peacefully with him again for worry about what he might do to her while she was unconscious. No, he wasn’t completely in the clear, no matter how charmed she was by his artistic gift to her.

“Well, that’s certainly a mean look,” Jessica said, snapping away. She didn’t want to miss any angle. It must have taken Drake hours to do all that work.

“I was just thinking about what happened before Drake started his art project on me last night.”

“Really? That was a terrible frown and glare. Was it that bad?” Jessica asked.

Brooke snorted at her mother’s nosy questions. “It was the best possible thing a man could ever do to a woman to take her mind off her problems.”

“Excellent. I knew he had great potential. I hope like hell you decide to marry him one day. Drake’s so unpredictable, and yet also very soothing. It is a wonderful combination.”

“Which is exactly my problem,” Brooke said.

“I thought the five permanent markers worth of art adorning you might be the thing you were worried most about this morning.”

Brooke snorted. “Are you kidding? Imagine what the doctors and nurses are going to say when they see this. I’m sure their shock will be worth the price of a ticket. Nobody is going to see my ass though. And if you tell my stupid stepbrothers…or their father…what is written there, I swear I will never speak to you again.”

“I won’t…now turn around,” Jessica ordered, snapping pictures of the front when her daughter obeyed. “I love all the symbolism he used. Though the words are very nice too. His art is very well-balanced all around you.”

Brooke fisted a hand on her now naked hip. “I look like a freaking page from one of Shane’s graphic novels. All that’s missing are dialog bubbles around the words.”

Jessica laughed as she lowered the camera. “That’s very creative, darling. Want me to add one to see if you like it?”

“Mom…get real. I’m scheduled for surgery in a couple hours. I need to get dressed.”

“You’re right. Maybe we should wait and see how you feel about adding the dialogue bubbles later…when everything is over. I’m sure Shane would be happy to help if you want.”

Rolling her eyes at the thought of her massive stepbrother carefully drawing on her, Brooke grabbed her discarded underwear and pulled them back on while her mother laughed. “If I didn’t know better, this morning I’d think Drake’s name was Larson instead of Barrymore.”

Jessica checked the pictures and then stowed the camera away. “I guess I should have warned you. The Larson
je ne sais quoi
is extremely contagious, especially with other males.”

“Now you tell me,” Brooke complained, pulling a t-shirt on over her naked breasts.

There was no need for a bra today.

***

Because there were so many of them, the outpatient nurses moved the entire Larson clan to a waiting room down the hall. Drake rubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the sheer number of them. The only one not there was Princess Sara, who was currently with her other aunt.

Everyone was busy, but no one was talking. It was the quietest he’d ever seen the Larson clan, even in a public place.

He watched in fascination as Will’s ex-wife and her husband came in. A meticulously dressed Ellen Cannon went straight to hug Jessica. The two women stood holding each other while Will rolled his eyes and walked away from them. Drake shook his head, also having trouble with it. No wonder Brooke was such an unusual person. With a mother like Jessica Daniels, being typical had probably never been an option.

He glanced around and finally noticed Brandon sitting next to Chelsea, who alternately patted his arm and ignored him. Brandon sighed occasionally and spoke to her, but never budged from the girl’s side no matter what her brothers said to him.