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"It's nothing."

"Now you have to elaborate."

"I simply never thought I’d meet someone who could sense my emotional states." She sets a glass jar of solvent beside a folded rag and unwraps a wooden palette, placing it flat. "It sounds kind of woo woo."

I smirk. "Didn't I tell you I’m a secret hippy? Chakras, horoscopes, healing crystals. They're all essential to my practice."

She laughs while adjusting the easel legs, ensuring stability, and securing the canvas. She evaluates the lighting, slightly repositions the setup.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" She steps back momentarily, confirming everything's optimally positioned. "And why are you looking at me like that?"

"In what way, Vignette?"

She flinches, though not from discomfort. It's more as if the nickname sends a tremor of desire coursing through her. She attempts to hide it, to suppress it, but I can tell how desperately she craves another kiss, more intimate contact, more passion.

Presumably as intensely as I do.

"Do you always give strangers nicknames?" she asks.

"You didn't specify how I was looking at you."

"Yeah – and I won't. Because it's inappropriate."

"That indicates it was sexual, then."

"For this painting, I'll need you to do your best not to speak if possible. I need concentration. Pencils were my first love; painting takes more effort. Can you manage that?"

"If it means I can watch you, piccola pittrice, I could sit here indefinitely."

* * *

After roughly an hour, she rises and stretches her arms overhead. The hem of her shirt shifts slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin.

"You're looking at me in that way again."

I can't help it. I've likely had the same expression throughout the entire time.

"No – it's subtly different."

I stand, rolling my shoulders, stretching my neck from side to side. "How so?"

"Before, you resembled a caged animal. Now you look like you also appear... impressed."

"You read me like a book."

"I must need more classes, then, because I can only read some of your few pages."

"Maybe those fragments are the only significant ones."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

I approach her, conscious of her sharp intake of breath, the vibration that courses through her exquisite body. She gazes up at me with eyes brimming with restrained desire. She's trying to conceal it, combat it, but unsuccessfully.

"It means that, like everything between us, we can block out the rest of the world."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Stranger."

When I grip her hips, she emits a tempting gasp. Her luscious curves press against me as I pull her closer. My arousal intensifies.