Serenity

11| Before Her

Shane's POV

A hiss escaped from her lips as the brush glided over her skin, the sensation no doubt new and exciting.

"Sorry," I mumbled, even though I wasn't. Not really.

"What are you painting?" she asked, her eyes filled with curiosity and excitement.

"Something," I said, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.

"That's not very descriptive," she teased, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, too.

"Flowers," I murmured.

"Flowers?"

"Yeah," I said, the tip of the brush brushing her skin, leaving a trail of wetness behind. The color I chose was vibrant and alive, and I couldn't help but think that the shade perfectly complimented the color of her nipples.

"What kind of flowers?"

"Why does it matter what kind of flowers?"

"I'm just curious," she replied. 

We fell quiet after that. I kept painting on her breasts, and as the seconds passed, I could feel her body start to relax. Her breathing grew less shallow, her body became less tense, and I realized how easy this came to me now. This was the same feeling that I had whenever I painted—the same feeling that made me want to keep painting.

It was so unlike the surge of anxiety I had felt as I stood in front of the blank canvas back in the art studio of the campus. The white expanse had seemed to mock me, a dark reminder of my inability to create. The sensation of the brush on her skin was opposite to the emptiness I had felt in the art studio. Back there, the blank canvas had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, a void that I couldn't fill. But here, with her body as my canvas, the brush flowed effortlessly, each stroke a burst of color and life.

It was crazy to think that the mere thought of painting had filled me with dread before this. Before her. I had been afraid of failing, afraid of exposing my vulnerabilities. Now, though, ever since I tried painting here in the presence of no one but her, I felt a sense of freedom. As if all the walls had fallen down just a little, and I was finally free to explore and express myself. Not completely, but just enough.

I wondered if I could ever recapture that same feeling when I used to paint on a canvas. Perhaps with time and practice, I could overcome my fears and rediscover that feeling. Perhaps.

For now, though, this was enough. I was content to enjoy the moment, to revel in the pleasure of creating something beautiful. Both on the canvas and on her.

As I continued to paint and she leaned into me, her hands gripping my shoulders, my thoughts strayed to what she told me really happened in my office the other day.

The more I thought about it, the more confused I felt. My first reaction had been shock. It was hard to believe what had happened. But then again, knowing Leo, it wasn't so surprising.

But the main question that lingered in my mind was, why did she kiss me? It was obviously a mistake, but after everything that had happened between us... had it really been a mistake?

I looked up at her face. She was so close, and the heat radiating from her was overwhelming. Her eyes, filled with longing, were already focused on me.

Right then, she grinded her hips against mine, the motion making a moan slip from her mouth.

"Stay the fuck still, Kara," I grunted.

"Sorry," she whispered, her breath warm on my cheek as she moved her face closer to mine. "But you're the one who's making it so difficult."