Page 4 of The Passionate Orc (The Teddy Orcs #1)

E mryn

I stood in my studio space, staring at the massive blank canvas we had propped against the wall.

The afternoon sun streamed through the skylights, casting golden light across the polished concrete floor.

Nar towered next to me, his muscular green arms crossed over his chest, tusks gleaming as he frowned at our empty canvas.

"So," I said, tapping my paint brush against my palm. "Any ideas for our masterpiece?"

Nar grunted. "I think we should start with bold strokes. Red. Maybe black. Something powerful."

I bit my lip. Of course, he'd want to go dark and intense. "I was thinking more... flowing. Soft colors that blend together. Blues and purples, maybe some yellow for contrast."

His brown eyes met mine, one eyebrow raised. "Soft? This is supposed to make a statement, Emryn."

"Art can make a statement without screaming, you know." I dipped my brush in a pale lavender and made a sweeping arc across the canvas.

Nar's jaw tightened. "What are you doing? We didn't agree on that!"

"I'm starting. We've been staring at this thing for twenty minutes."

"Fine." He grabbed a thick brush, dunked it in crimson, and slashed a bold line right through my lavender curve.

I gasped. "Seriously?"

"What? It needs strength." His tusks jutted forward as he smirked at me.

My blood boiled. I'd been so attracted to this orc when we first met, but right now, I wanted to strangle him. "You know what else it needs?" I flicked my brush, sending purple droplets across his white t-shirt.

Nar froze, looking down at the splatter pattern now decorating his chest. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "You didn't."

"I did." I couldn't help the grin spreading across my face.

"This shirt is new." A dangerous smile crept across his face as he dipped his fingers into the red paint.

"Don't you dare—" I backed away, but not fast enough.

He flicked his fingers, and red paint splashed across my cheek and hair.

"Oh, it's on now!" I grabbed a jar of blue paint and flung a handful at him.

Nar ducked, laughing as he reached for the yellow. "You started this war, tiny human!"

"And I'll finish it, big guy!"

Paint flew everywhere. Blue smeared across Nar's forehead, yellow streaked my arms, green splashed across the floor. We were laughing so hard I could barely breathe, ducking behind easels and furniture like children playing tag.

"Surrender!" Nar called, advancing with a brush dripping with orange.

"Never!" I grabbed a spray bottle of water and squirted it at him, diluting the paint on his face into rivulets that ran down his neck.

He lunged for me, but his foot slid in a puddle of paint. His arms windmilled comically as he lost balance. I reached out to steady him, but his momentum was too great. We both went down, me shrieking as he toppled forward.

I felt something flat beneath us as we fell, the second canvas we'd prepared as backup had fallen to the floor earlier. Now we landed on it with a heavy thud, Nar's massive body partially covering mine.

"Oof!" All the air rushed from my lungs. "You're crushing me!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, pushing up slightly, his face inches from mine.

Time seemed to stop. Paint dripped from his tusks onto my cheek. His brown eyes, flecked with gold, stared into mine with an intensity that made my heart pound against my ribs. His weight pressed me into the canvas, and I was suddenly aware of every hard plane of his body against my softer curves.

"Emryn," he whispered, his voice rough.

I couldn't speak. My hands, splayed against his chest, felt the rapid beat of his heart matching my own.

His skin was hot to the touch, and I could feel the rise and fall of each breath he took.

The scent of him, a mix of earthy musk and acrylic paint, filled my nostrils.

Without thinking, I lifted my head and pressed my lips to his.

The kiss was electric. His mouth was warm, his tusks pressing gently against my cheeks.

The contrast of their hardness against my soft skin sent a thrill through my body.

He made a sound low in his throat, half growl, half moan, that sent shivers down my spine.

It reverberated through me, igniting a fire in my core.

His paint-covered hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking my jawline with a tenderness that belied his strength.

We rolled slightly, smearing more paint across the canvas beneath us.

The colors blended together, creating a chaotic masterpiece that mirrored the passion between us.

I didn't care. All I could focus on was the taste of him, the weight of him, the heat building between us as our painted bodies pressed together.

Every nerve ending felt alive, every touch amplified.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer. I needed to feel more of him, to be consumed by the desire that coursed through my veins. His hands roamed my body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Each caress, each brush of his fingers against my skin, stoked the flames higher.

A soft moan escaped my lips as his mouth trailed down my neck, his tusks grazing the sensitive skin.

My back arched, pressing my chest against his.

I could feel the rumble of his growl vibrating through me, and it only fueled my hunger.

The world faded away, leaving only the two of us lost in a moment of pure passion.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside my studio.

"Emryn? You in there? I wanted to ask about the gallery opening next week."

Bette. Crap.

We jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Nar pulled me to my feet as I frantically wiped at the paint on my face, probably making it worse.

"Quick, the canvas," I hissed, pointing to our accidental creation on the floor.

Nar grabbed it, and we had just propped it on the easel when Bette walked in. Her eyes widened at the sight of us, covered head-to-toe in paint splatter.

"What happened in here? Did a paint factory explode?" She pushed her glasses up her nose, looking around at the colorful chaos.

"Just... getting creative," I said, trying to sound casual while my heart still raced from the kiss.

Bette's gaze landed on the canvas we'd just set up—the one we'd been rolling around on. It was a chaotic swirl of colors, with distinct impressions where our bodies had pressed against it. Handprints, smudges, and swirls created an unexpectedly dynamic composition.

"Oh my god," she said, stepping closer. "Is this your competition piece? It's fantastic!"

I glanced at Nar, who looked as surprised as I felt.

"It's so visceral," Bette continued, leaning in. "The passion is palpable. The way the colors interact but don't quite blend—it's like a visual representation of relationship dynamics."

I cleared my throat. "Um, yeah. That's... exactly what we were going for."

"Absolutely," Nar added, his deep voice serious despite the twinkle in his eye. "We call it 'Creative Differences.'"

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"The texture is amazing." Bette peered closer. "How did you achieve this effect?"

"Experimental technique," I said quickly. "Very... hands-on approach."

Nar made a choking sound.

"Well, it's brilliant." Bette stepped back. "Sorry to interrupt your process. Just wanted to confirm you're bringing some pieces for the opening. Looks like you've got it covered." She gestured at the canvas. "This one should definitely be included."

After she left, we looked at each other for three silent seconds before erupting into laughter. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, while Nar leaned against the wall, his massive shoulders shaking.

"Creative Differences?" I gasped out between laughs.

"It seemed appropriate!" His laughter was deep, filling the studio.

"A very hands-on approach," he mimicked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Well, it was!" I moved closer to the canvas, studying it. "You know, it's actually not bad."

Nar came to stand beside me, his arm brushing against mine. "It's pretty good. We should definitely frame it."

"Our first masterpiece." I looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. "Created by accident."

"Sometimes the best things happen by accident." His voice softened as he tucked a paint-covered strand of hair behind my ear.

My skin tingled where he touched me. "I think you've got some paint... everywhere, actually."

He smiled, his tusks gleaming. "So do you. Maybe we should get cleaned up."

"My apartment's upstairs. I have a shower." The words came out before I could think better of them.

Nar's eyes darkened. "Are you inviting me to your shower, Emryn Lister?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "I meant separately! I have towels you can use and?—"

He leaned down, his lips close to my ear. "Shame. I'm very good at washing hard-to-reach places."

My entire body felt like it was on fire. This orc was going to be the death of me.

"We should clean the studio first," I said, trying to sound practical while my imagination ran wild.

Nar reached out, his finger trailing along my paint-splattered arm. "Or we could make more art first."

The way he said it made it clear he wasn't talking about painting.

I swallowed hard, my eyes drawn to his mouth. "I thought we had creative differences."

"I'm starting to think our differences work well together." His hand circled my wrist, gently pulling me closer. "Like complementary colors."

I couldn't argue with that. The space between us hummed with electricity as he bent down, his intention clear. This time when our lips met, there was no surprise, just hunger. His arms wrapped around me, lifting me slightly as my hands tangled in his hair.

Who would have thought an orc warrior and a human artist would fit together so perfectly?

But as his tusks grazed my cheek and his firm hands splayed across my back, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else but in this paint-covered studio, creating something beautiful with the last person I'd ever expected to fall for.