With a wink, she’s gone, and a quiet frenzy ignites as the models waste no time getting naked. Mateo and I share a glance as the clothes start flying off. He’s still mixing the colors.
“These people are fierce,” he says anxiously. “I feel like we’re on a reality show bake-off or something.”
“I guess we’d better get started?” I say.
He laughs. “Strip, girl, strip. And go slow so I can enjoy it.”
I smack him playfully on the arm. “Jesus, Mat. Horndog much?”
“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before and you know it.” He shrugs. “A body is a body.”
I hear someone forcefully clearing their throat beside us. We both turn to look and my stomach drops as I take in the sight of Luka at the freshly arranged workstation next to ours, whipping off his shirt to reveal his perfectly sculpted torso.
Mateo is smiling like this is the best thing to happen to him all week.
“Well well well, Mr. Zoric,” he says, shooting me a smirk. “Fancy seeing you here…”
“Great to see you too, man,” Luka says to Mateo. But his tone doesn’t match his words.
As for me, I’m…I’m speechless. My husband lifts a brow as he continues undressing, holding my gaze the whole time. Shock turns to lust as I watch him unzip his pants and let them drop. He’s completely naked within seconds.
Crossing his arms, he says, “Surprised to see me?”
“You could say that,” I murmur.
“I thought we’d enjoy some husband and wife bonding time,” he says, as if it’s completely expected for him to be here right now. I don’t know what to say in reply, so I look at Mateo, but he’s still busy ogling my nude husband. To be honest, I’m wondering how everyone else in the room can focus on anything but Luka’s body, that face, his patented devilish grin.
He gestures at my clothing. “You heard Mateo—time to strip. You’re the only model here that isn’t ready for paint. Time’s a-wasting.”
Pulling myself together, I kick off my heels and shimmy out of my pantyhose. Both Luka and Mateo watch as I pull my dress over my head and step out of my underwear, leaving me naked. I shiver, but my body heats instantly as I take in my husband again. His form is so perfect, so unbelievably sculpted, that he puts this entire room full of professional models to shame. I want to be angry that he’s crashed my night out with Mateo, but the truth is: I’m not.
I still can’t figure out why he showed up. He wasn’t on the model list—in fact, he hadn’t signed up to have any involvement at all. Was it pure jealousy that drove him here tonight? If so, I can’t help feeling satisfied that my speculation was correct. He doesn’t want the men in the audience to appreciate my nakedness, and he sure as hell doesn’t want them touching me.
That would imply that Luka still cares about me. And there’s hope in that.
I catch him running his eyes over my body greedily, as if drinking me in after a long, parching heat. I enjoy his gaze, but then his artist has him turn to the right, and Luka looks away.
Even still, all hopes of having a relaxing, fun evening with Mateo are gone. Instead I’m overcome with need for the man who’s only an arm’s length from me.
Mateo pulls out a photograph from the folder on his supply table and gives an annoyed click of his tongue as he thrusts it in my direction. “Let’s do this, babe. It’s go time. I have to turn you into Almond Blossoms in under two hours.”
Mateo doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body, and he’s been tasked with recreating Van Gogh’s iconic art piece on my skin. I suspect this is going to be a royal disaster…especially now that we’re both under the watchful eye of my very sexy, very distracting husband.
Luka shifts his position again at the direction of his artist, a serious young man working to duplicate Starry Night by covering my husband in a base layer of cobalt blue paint. I imagine the bright crescent moon, the soft yellow circles of stars that will soon grace my husband’s skin, with the most impressive swirl of dark blue curling right over his—
“Brooklyn, for God’s sake. Look this way.” Mateo grabs my chin and turns my head. I didn’t realize I’d been staring so long at Luka’s cock. My mouth is watering.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and try to focus on following Mateo’s directions.
Soon the room fills with the laughter and chatter of artists and models. Mateo covers most of me with a faded teal blue. Then he hesitates, brush poised at the apex of my thighs.
“Well this is awkward,” he says.
“You don’t want to paint my lady bits?” I tease.
“I mean, I do…but…” He nods subtly in the direction of my husband. Who happens to be watching us.
“Ninety minutes!” someone calls out.
Mateo’s expression turns to challenge. He dips his brush into the well of paint and presses it against my pubic bone. I jump at the coolness of the paint and try to hold perfectly still as he swipes lower and lower, finally working the brush in quick strokes across my labia.
“Oh my God, that’s cold. And it tickles. Hurry up!” I yelp.
I have the urge to swat the paintbrush away, but I force myself to hold still. At that moment, I see Luka’s artist going for the same region, only with a dark navy paint. He uses a wide brush to slick the color down Luka’s shaft, gently stroking the bristles over the impressive length of it. My mouth goes dry as I watch the paint glisten in the fluorescent lighting.
“Okay, time for some blossoms on these branches,” Mateo says. “Maybe I should start with your nipples. Get the most sensitive part out of the way first.”
His tone is so pointed and direct, it takes me off guard. Luka whips us another look.
“What do you think, Luka?” Mateo asks, turning toward my husband. “If I paint her nipples with blossoms, then I can make the tree branch run between them.”
Luka doesn’t respond right away, but I can see his jaw clench. “Sure. Good idea.”
Then he looks away with a grumble that I can’t make out as an actual word. He shifts a little, and I watch his artist begin painting yellow circles in the center of Luka’s hard abdomen.
God, he’s so perfect. He’s the perfect canvas for something like this. As I watch each dip and rise of the brush, the flicker of lust inside me gets stronger. Luka keeps stealing glances at me too, his eyes burning with a heat I know well. Mateo leans back to inspect his work on me.
“Mmm, girl, your breasts look amazing with those flowers. Don’t you think so, Luka?”
“Mateo,” I whisper-hiss. “Quit it.” Things are strained enough between me and my husband at the moment. I don’t need my best friend adding fuel to the fire.
“Why?” He shrugs and dabs his brush in more paint. “Someone has to appreciate you.”
Is the tension that noticeable? Then again, Mateo knows me so well it probably didn’t take him long to pick up on it. He can also probably tell how hot I’m getting just watching my husband get painted. I can’t take my eyes off him. My nipples stiffen with a sharp ache.
I watch the bristles stroke his skin, wishing they were my fingertips instead. Luka catches me looking and his eyelids flicker, the fingers of his left hand flexing. And then his gaze drops to where Mateo is creating a branch between my breasts, taking his time to get all the different colors of the bark just right. Or maybe he’s purposely torturing Luka. It wouldn’t surprise me.