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Home,he said, and I like the sound of it.

I like it a lot.

Seventy-five After

I’M PAINTING—GREYSON.Naked. In the flesh. Mirroring the image of him onto the canvas in front of me.

Painting is my passion, my dream, my breath of fresh air and my slice of freedom in a chaotic world. But right now, there are a million other things I’d rather be doing with that naked body.

He laughs, already knowing where my thoughts have been bathing for the past half-hour. Soaking in the dirtiest corners of my mind like a hot, bubbling bath of depravity.

I close my eyes and shake my head.You’re better than this, Jess.

Am I, though?

I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand, dipping my brush into the black paint, and adding more detail to the hairs that trail down his stomach and head straight towards his—

“You know what, I can’t do this. You’re too distracting,” I say, setting the brush down on the tray of paints, a little less than gently. The tray rattles, and the brush rolls down it, hanging precariously over the edge before I catch it and set it down on my easel.

“Come on, Jess.” He laughs again—unwittingly. Moving. Parts. Of himself. It draws my attention straight to those parts. He clears his throat, dragging my gaze back to his. “I want my custom Jessica Martinez work of art.”

And then it’s my turn to laugh. “If you thought this was going to be hanging anywhere but my bedroom wall, you were sorely mistaken.”

The sound of our mingled laughter bounces off my studio walls.

“Here,” I say, standing up and grabbing my camera from the shelf beside me. I switch it on and make a few adjustments to the ISO and shutter speed, before lining up the perfect shot. I peer over my camera at him. “This okay?” I ask.

He clears his throat, eyes intense. “I’m good with whatever you want, Jess.”

I lick my lips, biting down on the bottom one with a smile. “Okay,” I say quietly. And I take the shot.

I set the camera down on a small table set against the wall and walk over to Greyson, holding my hand down to him. “Come on.” I swallow thickly. “Your custom Jessica Martinez will be on its way to you soon. Now let’s find our way back to my bed.”

The intensity in his eyes increases tenfold, and I almost climb on top of him right here and now, before we could ever make it to my house, let alone my bedroom.

Turns out, we only make it just outside my studio doors.

And my favorite place to ground? The one smack-dab in the middle of my self-made meadow? That’s where we collide together and strip, and taste, and feel.

I’m pretty sure it isn’t anywhere in the rulebooks of how it’s done, but I can say this: I’ve never felt more grounded in my life.

Seventy-six After

I WATCH GREYSON,quietly, as he makes his way around his kitchen. His back and arms flexing as he reaches up into his cabinets for two bowls. His fingers wrapped around a matching pair of spoons before setting them down onto his marble countertop.

The way he licks his lips as he lifts the lid from an ice cream container—his green eyes catching mine watching him as he scoops said ice cream into the bowls sitting in front of him.

I smile, not at all ashamed at being caught. He’s something to watch, this man. The ease and surety in which he moves about a room. The calmness that seems to emanate from his every pore.

Just being in his presence puts me at ease. Calms something inside of me, too.

He winks at me with a soft smirk before looking back down and continuing to put together our desserts. Chocolate brownie, vanilla ice cream, caramel drizzle, crushed almonds, whipped cream, and a cherry on top.

He knows me well. I bite back another smile, hiding the evidence of it behind my clasped hands. He is too,toogood to me. If this dessert has anything to say about it, anyway. “You’re too good to me,” I voice my thoughts.

He shakes his head with a hidden smile of his own. “It’s just dessert, Jess.”

I quickly suck in a breath with wide eyes and feigned shock that borders on disapproval. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.‘Just dessert.’Who are you?” I slide my bowl from the counter and spin around on his stool, making my way towards his back doors with my dessert in hand. “Dessert is everything,” I finish.