Page 61 of Infatuated as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #2)

Holly

“Holly, would you stop moving?”

“Well, when can I see it?”

“Just wait a minute.”

“I’ve been waiting for literally twelve hours.”

“Literally?”

I was exaggerating ever so slightly. A lot, really—it had only been an hour or two.

I loved watching Sawyer paint, to see him get lost in concentration as whatever colors and images flew through his talented brain, but I was dying to see what he had come up with after he had insisted that I pose for him for his newest piece in the studio.

Y ou’re my favorite thing to paint , he told me in the morning before we made the walk to Brooklyn.

I groaned. “Yes. Literally . Just show me. Please.”

“Alright, alright.” Sawyer’s eyes were still zeroed in on the canvas as he grabbed the rag in front of him. He gave his hands a wipe before taking a step back, head tilting at his work before he finally met my gaze. “Come take a look. It’s not finished yet, though.”

I hopped off the stool and rounded the easel so I was standing next to Sawyer, and then my lips parted to gasp when I took in what was before me.

He said it wasn’t done yet, but it already looked very close to being finished.

The sides were a lush green, a few pink and red flowers there at the bottom and some at the top right corner, all of that creating a border for what was in the middle: me lying down on a red blanket with my hair all sprawled out, my dress painted a pretty purple.

I could feel my skin getting hot as I took in every last inch of it.

I knew the day he had painted, the exact moment he was recreating, and I couldn’t believe how he managed to remember it all without so much as a photo.

There I was in painted form. A slight blush on my cheeks, hair cascading around me in long waves.

He even got every last one of the details of my dress right: from the lace trim along the hem to the exact hue of it.

“I really loved that day,” he murmured behind me. “And I know it got a bit messy at the end, but everything before that was pretty damn good.”

Pulling my gaze away from the painting, I turned around to meet his face. “It’s really beautiful,” I said. “And I hate it when you make me say that, because then I feel so conceited.”

Chuckling, he put his hands on my hips and brought me to him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s gorgeous. Everything you paint is gorgeous.”

“You’re my most gorgeous subject, though,” he said, leaning down to peck my lips.

“Wait, this isn’t even the pose I was doing,” I said, looking over my shoulder and back at the painting.

“I know, I just like looking at you.”

“Only you,” I said. “I don’t even understand how you did all of that without a photo or anything. You can remember all of that from the top of your head?”

He hummed. “Easy.”

“What I was wearing? How my hair looked?”

“Yeah,” he said casually.

“I’m a little scared of how good your memory is.”

“It gets scarier…”

“How scary?”

“I remember,” he said, reaching up to push some strands of hair behind my ear, “the color of your dress when we first kissed, and exactly what your smile looked like when you told me you wanted to be mine, and how damn pretty you looked the first time you wore one of my shirts. ”

His green eyes looked into mine, those memories swirling around in my mind in a fantastical loop, all warm and bright. “You remember all of that?”

“I do, and I won’t forget it. I don’t ever want to forget it, either.

” Strong, long fingers circled at my hips through the material of my dress, his lips brushing against mine.

“They’re gonna be doing an exhibition in about a month.

Damien asked me if I was interested and I said yes.

I kinda already have an idea for what I wanna do.

Maybe a series of paintings or something… ”

“That’s so exciting!” But then I frowned. “Wait, you’re not gonna use this one, right? The one of me?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“But it’s of me.”

“Yeah, most beautiful thing in the world. Makes sense I paint you, right?”

I blushed, pressing my face into his chest before staring up at him. “Everyone’s gonna see me.”

“I won’t use it if you really don’t want me to.”

“There are so many pretty things you could paint…”

“Why would I paint anything else but you?”

Cheeks still hot, I hummed lowly. “I don’t wanna ruin your project. It just feels weird knowing I’ll be on a wall for everyone to look at.”

His brows rose. “Trust me, I don’t like it either.”

“What happened to not showing anyone your paintings of me?”

“For this one time, I’ll make an exception. As long as you’re okay with it.”

Biting my lip, I gave him a nod. “I won’t get in the way of your creative process.”

He snorted. “There’s no process, just me makin’ stuff.”

“I think you’re still underestimating yourself as an artist. Don’t tell anyone else I said this,” I said, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “but you’re the most talented artist here. And I’m not just saying that because you paint me and make me feel really beautiful whenever you do.”

“I’m glad I make you feel that way. So, will you come check it out when it’s all done?

The other paintings, I mean. It’s gonna be a whole big thing.

Damien’s put some flyers out the front if you wanna grab one.

Everyone else is gonna make stuff too, and there’ll be gallery owners coming and…

” He looked off into the distance for a second.

“… Other people I don’t really wanna interact with, actually. You keep that a secret.”

“Of course I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said. “This is so exciting! It’ll be so much fun. I can wear a beret.”

He laughed, fingers brushing through my hair. “You’ll look real cute in one.”

“Everyone is gonna see your stuff and fall in love with you just like I did. But don’t forget that I was here first.”

“Could never forget that,” he said against my lips. “Ever.”

I almost didn’t want to pull away from him, but I knew I’d be cutting it close if I stayed any longer. “And while I wish I could just sit here and have you stare at me all day, I have to head to campus so I can get ready for tonight.”

“Fuck, what time is it?” he asked, eyes landing on the clock beside us. “Damn, time flies by when I’ve got you in front of me.”

“I’ll see you tonight, right?”

Eyes all serious, he nodded firmly. “I’ll be there. I will. And I can’t wait to see you cheer.”

“I’m kinda nervous,” I said, fidgeting in his arms a little. “Last time was a slight disaster…”

“I asked Claudia and she said you made one little mistake. I’ll be there tonight. I promised you I’d make it and I will.”

“I just want tonight to go well.”

“It will. You got this.” He stroked a thumb against my cheek, voice and eyes all warm. “You’ll do amazing. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Okay, I gotta leave now or I’ll be late, but thank you for painting me. Again. For the millionth time,” I said with a laugh. “And I cannot wait for everyone in New York to talk about what a great artist you are and gush over you and tell you how much they love you.”

Sawyer groaned, eyes looking over my head and to the painting behind me. “I think I change my mind about this already.”

* * *

Claudia’s dorm room was buzzing with excited voices as we got ready for the game. I was on the floor in front of her as she raked a brush through my hair, pulling my locks into quite possibly the most painful ponytail of all time.

“Is that too tight?” she asked.

“Uh, no,” I said with slightly teary eyes. At least my ponytail wouldn’t come out mid-game. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll curl your ends now.”

“What are you guys doing in exactly four weeks time, by the way?” I asked the room.

“Four weeks from today there’s no game and no practice and no pep rallies,” Claudia said firmly.

“You know all that off the top of your head?” I asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re like a cheer robot. I wanted to invite you all to an art gallery event. It’s in Brooklyn and they’ll be doing an exhibition and Sawyer’s gonna be showing off some of his paintings. You guys should come.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Claudia said. “Cover your eyes!”

I did as she asked and soon, the sharp scent of hairspray was in my nose.

“I’m free that Friday,” Claudia said. “What did he paint? Did he paint the cheer team like I asked?”

“No, nothing like that.” I laughed. “I’ll have to convince him to do that.”

“I bet he painted you. Did he paint you?”

I blushed, thinking of the beautiful piece he had showed me in the afternoon. “He seems to be addicted to doing that. So, if you wanna see a painting of me, you’re all free to come.”

“I’d love to!” Claudia said, fingers running through the curls of my ponytail. “I’ve never been to an art gallery showing before. It sounds cool.”

Millie took a seat in front of me, a small container of glitter in her hands. “Can you do my eyes? ”

“Of course.” I nodded, grabbing one of the many eyeshadow brushes in the little bag by my side.

“Should we wear black?” asked Claudia from behind me. “I don’t own anything black except my gym clothes.”

“You can wear whatever you want,” I said, dapping some of the red glitter against Millie’s eyelids, the crimson color contrasting against her ebony skin. “There’s no dress code.”

“I’d love to come too. I don’t know how to fit in with artists, though,” said Millie.

“They’re not as intimidating as you think. It should be a really fun night.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be there,” Claudia said before standing up. “Girls, we’re leaving in exactly five minutes! I want your ponytails tight .”