Villa Blue by Isla Dean Page A

not dry yet and I haven’t signed it, but the heart of it is done. Do you like it?”
    “Incredible. I had no idea all of that could… This is going to sound wrong so just let me get it out. I have no idea how all of that, I guess, emotion , could come out of one person. It’s incredible.”
    Her face pulled into a pleased and sleepy smile. “I’m glad you like it. You were an excellent subject.”
    He wasn’t sure what to say about the figure in the painting, the profile he knew was his. Was that how she saw him? That intense show of his face?
    Deciding he needed to stick with what he’d gone there to say, he angled toward her. “I’m sorry, Ivy. Truly, I don’t know what happened today, but you went from looking like a woman on top of the world to a woman not very happy with me.”
    She wished she hadn’t stood so close to him. Everything about him consumed her—the clean scent of the soap he’d used, the dampness from his dark hair that was casually pushed away from his face that he’d left unshaved.
    Feeling like her overly open senses were going to swallow her whole, she started to walk away to wash her hands or drink more water or do anything for a breath away from him. But he gently put a hand over hers and stopped her.
    Before she could slip away, she slipped into desire—an unfamiliar place that apparently needed no compass.
    He lifted his warm hands to cup either side of her face. “I didn’t mean to shut you out today. I’m not used to sharing like you do. I travel a lot and meet a lot of people who, as nature has it, ask standard questions, so I have standard answers that I give people. I didn’t want to give you standard answers. The way you share is poetic. And I don’t consider myself a poet so my responses were, well, vague.”
    The deep green of his eyes, his worldly eyes, were focused on her and it was unnerving to be so captivated by it.
    “I’m not used to sharing like that either.”
    “Maybe you’re just braver than I am.” His palm skimmed her cheek.
    “I doubt it,” she told him, caught in the thoughtful way he saw things. “You’ve probably tamed lions and snorkeled with sharks and run with dinosaurs.”
    “Your imagination fascinates me. You fascinate me.”
    “You’re the one taming lions.”
    He was so close that the warmth from his body boosted her temperature up more than a few notches.
    “And you’re the one painting works of art that shock the hell out of me.”
    His thumb trailed over her lips with such confidence of movement, her breath hitched. And when his lips brushed hers, she sighed into the warmth. Encompassed by him, the heat of him, the scent of him, she let go for that moment. Her mind drifted further into a colorful oblivion that captured her, held her, and when her lips parted, his tongue touched hers, sweeping glorious, glimmering desperation alive within her.
    Heat and vulnerability and desire merged together in a soft moan when the kiss dove deeper, each pulling the other in, closer. Hands sought to touch, clamored to explore.
    The taste of that mystery she’d painted sparked to life like the stars above them through the dark night. Never had she desired so greatly, and when she realized the enormity of it, the unknown flavors of it, she said his name as she breathed out.
    She needed to think before she disappeared into the moment entirely. Wasn’t she just starting to build a life for herself, a life she had no desire to disappear from?
    His name was a whisper, but he’d heard it, felt her pull gently away.
    Unsure what the hell he was doing—not that he was unfamiliar with romps with beautiful women he’d just met—he looked at the soft blue of her eyes. She’d been crying the day before and now he was moments from tearing her clothes off.
    Needing to get a grip, he stepped back, tugged a hand through his hair that was still wet from his shower.
    “Aiden, I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’m… I was married for five years