Page 76 of Into These Eyes

“I more than think so.” While I continue to flick slowly through the sketches, I come across one that isn’t clean like the others. Smudges and streaks smear the page, lacking a polished finish, though it was clearly on the way there. “Why didn’t you finish this one?”

“I was still working on it the day I walked out of prison. I left it like that. As a reminder.”

I look closer, fascinated by the process.

That’s when I notice it. The reflection in the irises.

They look like … prison bars. Intrigued, I flick through the pages, seeing the bars on all the others.

Until I get to the more recent sketches.

The bars are gone, replaced by the silhouette of a man instead.

That one little detail shatters my heart all over again.

It’s him. It’s me, looking at him. It’s the moment I stopped seeing him as a prisoner and started seeing him as a man.

Taking a moment, I breath through the overwhelming tidal wave of emotion. When I finally have control again, I ask, “Why me? Why my eyes? Why any of it at all if you don’t think you’re an artist?”

Raising his head, he plants a sweet kiss on the part in my hair. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” I twist out of his embrace, take a seat on the edge of his bed, and look up at his questioning expression. “I’d love to know that part of you.”

A little reluctant, he slumps onto the office chair. After staring at the drawings for a long moment, he drags a hand over his face, then turns his attention to me.

“Although I always hoped I’d meet you, I didn’t believe it’d happen. So, when it did, I thought you might see all these,” he waves a hand at his sketches, “as kind of … creepy.”

I think about that for a moment. “But you drew them on the letters you wrote me. You weren’t worried about that.”

“They were doodles. Not the same as these.”

“Tell me the difference.”

He swivels side to side in the chair, his eyes focused on his hands fisted in his lap. Finally, he lets out a long breath and looks at me.

“Unless you’ve been through it yourself, it’s one of those things you think you might be able to imagine, but without firsthand experience, you can’t understand what it truly means to be locked in a cage.

When you find something— anything —that can take you out of there, that can make you feel free for even the briefest moment, you hold onto it.

Tight. For me, that was you.” He picks up one of his sketches and stares at it.

“You have no idea how many times I escaped prison by looking into these eyes.”

My heart stills. There’s something special in what he’s telling me, I just don’t quite understand. “But you didn’t know me. All you knew, was that I hated you. Why would anyone want to use that as an escape?”

He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and reaches for my hand.

“When I saw you in that courtroom, you stunned me. I tried to ignore you and concentrate on what was happening. I tried. But I couldn’t do it.

There was something about you that kept reeling me in.

I was captivated. And yes, you only ever looked at me like you wanted me to burn in hell, but …

all that fierce emotion, all that energy put into conveying how you felt about me …

You were alive with it. And since I felt dead, I wanted some of what you had. ”

My heart stutters in my chest as I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to go on.

“In between court days, I started sketching. And what came out were your eyes. I hadn’t even planned to draw anything to do with you.

It just … happened. Then it became my meditation.

I’d disappear. I wasn’t in a prison cell, waiting to be found innocent or guilty.

I was with you, bringing you to life so I could see you whenever I wanted.

Your eyes were the only image that would flow from my hand onto the paper.

Looking into your eyes … that gave me something tangible to hang onto. ”

Before I can barrel into his arms, he releases my hand, flips the sketchbook over and slides out the last drawing. “At first, I didn’t care that you hated me. I understood. But over time, I wanted to change that. I tried to make you look happy. I just couldn’t get it quite … right.”

“Until recently.”

He nods. “I guess I need to see the real thing before I can immortalise it on paper. Once I had you in front of me, giving me all those different emotions, I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t. I don’t think I ever will. You helped save me in there, J. And now you’re the one saving me out here.”

Rising, I position myself between his spread thighs and cup his face. “They’re so beautiful, just like you. You should share them with the world, Gavin.”

He shakes his head. “No. They’re private. They’re mine … and now yours.”

“But people would be amazed—”

“No, J. They’re my therapy. When I get overwhelmed, drawing them lets me escape.”

I study his face, see the sincerity there. As I run my fingers through his hair, I try not to let my own vulnerability show when I ask gently, “You still get overwhelmed?”

He nods, drawing me closer. “Yeah. I do. There’s a lot going on right now. But Jamie, being overwhelmed isn’t always a negative thing. Loving you as deeply as I do … sometimes, I don’t know what to do with that sort of fierce emotion. Drawing your eyes … it’s hard to explain. It just works for me.”

If my heart expands any further, it’ll explode. So I kiss him and try to show him everything I feel for him too, but I’m not sure I know how. This goes deeper than any words or touches can convey. And that’s when it hits me.

Breaking the kiss, I gaze into his eyes. That’s where it is. I see it pouring from those beautiful blue irises. I saw it when he broke down on me after revealing how he tried to comfort my mother. It’s the reason I kissed him.

Flicking my attention to the sketches spread across his desk, I realise it’s there in my eyes, too. There’s no hiding it, and I don’t want to.

His hands tighten on my waist, bringing me back to him.

“I told you, J … I see you. Even when I didn’t know you, I saw you. And I never want to not see you.”

I drop my lips to his. When our tongues meet, his hands travel languidly up the backs of my thighs and beneath my skirt. Groaning, I lift my mouth from his and stare into his blown pupils.

“When you touch me like that … God, it turns me on,” I whisper.

“Every damn thing about you turns me on. All the fucking time. You wearing this skirt … I remember the first time I saw you in it by the river. These beautiful legs, all smooth and perfect. Christ, how I kept my hands off you for so long is a total mystery to me right now.”

Reaching higher, he cups my arse and squeezes, deepening that ache for him, making me want so much more.

I take a step back, then another, grasping his hands when they slip from my backside. His questioning eyes gaze up at me, and when my legs hit his mattress, I sit down and pull him forward.

“I need to feel your weight on me,” I demand.

Rising from the chair, he towers over me. “Where’s the sadistic one?”

“Out by the pool.”

Crashing his mouth crashes against mine, he grabs my shoulders and follows me down to the mattress. As he settles himself over me and eases a knee between my legs, I’m not surprised to find him already hard against my thigh. Instinctively, I press up into him, wanting more, wanting everything.

A low groan of frustration slips past my lips as I free my leg from between his so I can circle them both around his waist. The moment his erection makes contact with my damp panties, we being rocking slowly into each other. It feels so natural, so right. So torturous.

Grabbing my wrists, he draws them above my head, then tangles our fingers together so we’re palm to palm. Somehow that feels even more intimate than the friction between my legs.

Trailing sweet kisses over my cheek, he sends goosebumps skittering across my skin when his lips brush the shell of my ear.

“Fuck, J. I’m desperate to be inside you.”

Heat blasts through me as I squeeze his hands. “You had your chance last night.”

“That’s not what you needed. It wasn’t the right time.”

“Oh God, do I want it to be the right time now. This feels amazing.”

A low growl vibrates from his chest to mine as he nibbles at my throat, his tongue tasting, lips gently sucking.

“You realise we’ve been reduced to teenagers sneaking around so we can make out, right?”

I chuckle silently. “Is this what that feels like?”

He lifts his head and looks at me with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, then thrusts against me. Arching my back, I tighten my legs around his hips and dig my heels into his arse.

“Fuck,” he grates out. “I need to taste you again. Right from the source this time. Just a little sample.”

My breath catches, anticipation and nerves curling through my arousal. No one’s ever looked at me down there, let alone put their mouth on me.

His fingers untangle from mine as he trails his lips over my collarbone and between my cleavage, that short beard of his giving me delicious tingles.

Cupping my breasts, his hot tongue dips between them, his thumbs grazing across my tight nipples through my tank top.

When I suck in a sharp breath and undulate my hips beneath him, he lifts his head and gives me a devilish grin.

“I can’t even count the number of times I’ve imagined fucking these gorgeous tits before I come all over them.”

Oh. My. God! My nostrils flare at his words, my core clenching. “Gavin … that’s so … dirty .” He stills, worry in his eyes as he studies my face. I let him off the hook with a grin. “And I love it.”

Relief sweeps over his face, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Cheeky little wench.”

Then his weight vanishes and he’s kneeling between my parted thighs.

I study his every move, my pulse throbbing between my legs, desperate for his touch, desperate to know the feel of his mouth and tongue on me. With a slow, teasing ascent up the outside of my thighs, his fingertips tickle as he brings my skirt with them.

Bunching it over my hips, he draws in a deep breath, his gaze riveted to the sheer lace underwear he’s revealed.

“Look how beautiful you are, J. So fucking sexy,” he breathes as he runs the tip of his index finger over my pelvic bone and down my slit. “I just hope I don’t screw this up.”

Lowering his head, he presses a kiss to my inner thigh. “Why would you …” I trail off as his lips tickle slowly upward, his beard adding incredible sensations to his journey.

“I’m guessing …” he whispers, placing another kiss higher, “that we’re both virgins … when it comes to this.” Through the sheer fabric, his hot mouth covers my clit. My breath hitches as his tongue presses on the lace, right there . The air I’d been holding explodes from my lips.

Grinning, he lifts his head. “Shhh …”

“I’m trying,” I whisper, slapping a hand over my mouth.

He chuckles as he peppers kisses toward my other knee.

“Where are you going?” I protest.

“To look.” Leaning back on his heels, he skates his palms up the inside of my thighs, pressing slightly, forcing me to spread wider. Then he runs his fingertips along the edge of my panties, slipping beneath just enough to move the crotch aside, fully exposing me to his riveted gaze.

“Fuck, J … so exquisite.” He touches my entrance, then slides a finger inside. “So fucking wet for me. Yet another one of your amazing compliments.” Removing his finger, he sucks it into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed as a low hum reaches my ears.

“ Gavin ,” I whimper, so turned on my legs tremble.

He opens his eyes, lowers himself, and delicately brushes his mouth over my clit, mercilessly teasing me before the slick heat of his tongue strokes over me. My hips buck up, my fingers tangle in his hair and grip on tight.

“Oh my God,” I breathe against the palm pressed to my mouth. I gasp when his tongue moves lower and slides inside me, in and out, until he leisurely licks all the way back up to my clit.

Writhing, I clamp my thighs over his ears and grind against his mouth. When he slides two fingers inside me, I fist his hair so tight, I’m sure I pull strands from his scalp, but his only response is to suck my clit into his mouth and curl his fingers.

I’m so close to coming apart, I almost miss the sound of the sliding door banging shut, the footsteps pounding along the hallway.

Fuck!

I wrench away, scuttling up the bed, my breath exploding as I re-adjust my panties and skirt.

Gavin stares at me with confusion, his lips and beard slick with my arousal.

Standing on shaking legs, I whisper, “Anika.”

From the kitchen, a glass clanks against the stone countertop, the slam of the fridge door rattling bottles.

He swipes the back of his hand over his lips, his own breath just as ragged and choppy as mine as he gets off the bed.

“Come here,” he whispers, and pulls me close. Then he kisses me, his tongue rubbing against mine, coating me with my taste. When he pulls back, he gives me cheeky grin. “Didn’t want you to miss out on the delicious taste of that juicy peach.”

“Dirty bastard.” Emboldened, I palm his erection through his jeans and whisper in his ear, “I can’t wait to taste you .” His cock jerks in my hand and, with a satisfied grin, I step back and walk out of his room.