Page 66 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Rhett

“Okay… but how?” Eva asked. Her brows furrowed together tightly as she stared at a large canvas. Her head cocked to one side while she tried to figure out the position the couple on the canvas was in. “ How? ”

“You’re looking at it wrong, spark plug,” I whispered, stepping closer. Taking her head in my hands, I tilted her perspective the other way. The oh she let out as she saw it made me chuckle. I remained at her back and trailed my fingers over her soft curves as we stood there.

The atmosphere in the gallery was sinful, to say the least, but Jaye’s best attribute to any show was the mood he created every time.

It set him apart from other gallery show designers.

The lighting was dark with red undertones that only added to each piece, sultry music thrummed against the wall, and the only appetizer options were double shot glasses of cherry wine, complete with an actual cherry to top each one off.

I may have used the opportunity to show my ridiculous ability to tie a cherry stem, which had Eva laughing.

“I want to try that,” she announced. Thank fuck for the loud music. No one needed to hear her say that. I dipped down, my lips brushing against her ear.

“If you wanted me to throw your legs over my shoulder and fuck you, spark plug, all you had to do was ask,” I told her. She visibly shuddered and relaxed into me. I dragged my teeth over her earlobe because I could.

“ Behave,” she said, her tone playful as she slipped away from me. I smirked as I trailed after her. Behave? Who the fuck thought I knew how to behave?

She stopped at another painting and did her best to decipher it.

This was my favorite part—watching the wheels in her head turn as she interpreted each piece.

She spent more time on every painting than anyone else did.

I loved it. Not only did I love hearing what she thought but her boldness and excitement grew the longer we were in there.

I’d gone to hundreds of these things. I networked with a lot of artists. We all cycled between each other’s shows to throw in our support. But this—wandering with Eva—felt like experiencing it all again for the first time.

“I don’t get it,” she muttered when I stood behind her once again. Once again, I made her tilt her head slightly.

“Those are stirrups, spark plug,” I said.

“Man, some people get really creative with sex,” Eva commented. “There’s no way in hell we could do that. I’d break that shit.”

“Okay, first off, he’s holding her up right there.” I gestured to a portion of the abstract-style painting. “She’s not just dangling in the fucking stirrups without any other support. And secondly, that right there… that’s another guy.”

“There’s two of them?” The way her voice rose a notch was adorable. “That’s double the dick.”

“And plenty of places to put them.” Corrupting her was going to be enjoyable as hell. Not that group sex was my thing—tried it once and wasn’t into it. But if her interest in any number of the kinky things on display was an indicator, there were a lot of other ways I could corrupt her.

“You never said this was an educational experience,” she said, making me laugh. She took one long step to the side as if the location change would help her scrutinize the painting better. “It’s like a bucket list of things to try.”

“Keep a list, and I’ll see what I can help you cross off, spark plug.” I kissed her temple, letting it linger as I whispered, “Are you good for a few minutes alone? I want to go say hi to Jaye real quick.”

“I’m good. I’ll put a few surprise things on the bucket list. So, I know…

are you willing to do that ?” She pointed to the next picture, which depicted a man being bent over a railing while a faceless figure railed him from behind with what looked like a baseball bat sized strap-on.

Art could be so int erpretive or so literal.

What that was… I didn’t have a fucking clue besides painful.

I glanced at Eva, and she fluttered her lashes at me. Not this time, spark plug.

“Not a fucking chance,” I replied to shut that shit down fast.

“Damn,” she whispered, feigning her disappointment. I kissed her again and left.

Despite his flair for the dramatic and attention, Jaye Swanson hated being the center of anyone’s focus, especially when putting on a show.

Where most gallery designers loved to reap the compliments of what they created, Jaye enjoyed sticking to the shadows and taking everything in. Which was exactly where I found him.

The man was practically invisible in the shadows with his deep red dress shirt and black dress pants. The nice clothes were about the most work he put into himself. His chestnut hair was wild and in need of trimming, and I knew for a fact the man was wearing socks that didn’t match. He never did.

“Hello, stalker,” I greeted loudly.

“Shush,” he snapped. “You’ll give me away.”

“Everyone knows where you are, Jaye. Everyone just knows to give you space.”

“As they should.”

“You did a hell of a job on this one,” I said. “Everyone seems to love it.”

They did. And the turnout was impressive, considering how quickly he put together the show. In less than two weeks, he managed to get the entire thing done from start to finish. How the hell he wasn’t a little bit crazier was beyond me.

“It’s been a floating idea,” he dismissed.

Ah, his infamous floating ideas. Jaye kept a forum for all his artists where he listed his random ideas for exhibitions.

We all knew that anything listed as floating could be a show he spontaneously announced.

Quite a few of us kept art pieces in our storage units based on his ideas, just in case.

I had about five ready, but erotic art wasn’t my thing.

“You know,” Jaye began, rotating his body so he was facing me as he leaned in closer, “when I said the theme was A Secret Affair , I didn’t mean for you to take that as an invitation.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

“ Your girl,” he said. He wiggled his fingers in front of me in a dramatic gesture. “I see that ring on her finger. Jesus can see that ring on her finger from all the way up in heaven, Rhett.”

Dramatic shit. Sure, Eva’s wedding ring was noticeable but not that noticeable.

“And?” I asked.

“If you wanted to put something on exhibit at this showing, all you had to do was ask,” he told me. “You know I’ve got a soft spot for your brand of magic. You didn’t need to bring a walking piece of art to put on display.”

I sighed because how the fuck would I explain it to him. Did I even want to explain it to him? I frowned. Honestly, I didn’t want to. It felt like a whole can of worms that no one needed to fuck around with. I liked what I had with Eva. That ring on her finger and her husband didn’t change that.

“You’re right,” I said as I shoved my hands in my pockets. “She is a work of art.”

And then I walked away because I liked Jaye, but I also knew he was a gossip. I didn’t need to give him any more ammunition about my life.