Something True (10 page)

I take the frame he offers out to me, blinking rapidly as I look down at the beautiful painting of myself on stage, all dressed up as Lydia Bennet. It's. . .gorgeous. Breathtakingly gorgeous, and so fantastically detailed. He's caught me mid pose, with one gloved hand on my hip and the other holding onto a splayed fan. A little smile tilts up one side of my mouth as I peek at the audience out of the corner of my eye.

“It's from your first performance,” he explains when I don't say anything.

“I. . .I didn't even know you were there.”

He nods. “I was. I painted this from memory – this is the image I have of you in my head every time I think of you up there on stage. You probably think it's lame, right? I can get you a better Christmas gift, I-”

“Don't you dare,” I break in, finally looking up and giving him a watery smile. No one has ever done something so wonderful for me before. “I love it. You made me look so beautiful.”

Walt sags in pure relief, moving to stand behind me. His hands take a hold of my hips and his chin rests on my shoulder. “You
are
beautiful.”

Gently placing the painting back down on the table, I spin in his arms and kiss the corner of his lips. “I got you something too.”

“Oh yeah?”

Reaching into my purse, I pull out a little wrapped box and hand it to him. “Here.”

“You didn't have to get me anything,” he says with a smirk, because I literally nagged him for a fortnight straight to tell me what he wanted for Christmas, and each time he said he didn't want anything because he's such a frigging GUY!

I bite my lip as he pulls the paper off, suddenly very nervous. Not about the gift, but about what the gift really
means
. He opens the little box, lifting an eyebrow at the shiny pair of cufflinks.
 

“Wow. . .” he says uncertainly, unsure of how to respond. We both know that he is
not
the kind of guy who wears cufflinks on a regular basis, but it's super sweet that he doesn't want to say that. I can't believe I think
Walt
is sweet. “Thanks, Ibbs.”
 

“I thought you could wear them. . .” I take a deep breath. “. . .to your show at Nathan's art gallery.”

Dark eyes whip up to meet mine. “What show? What are you talking about? I never called Nathan.”

I nod, beginning to feel sick. Maybe this was a bad idea. “I know you didn't, and I know that you were never going to even though your art is so amazingly good – and that's not just my opinion, it's a total brain fact. It's beautiful and I love it and I know you probably think I'm the worst kind of interfering bitch on the face of the planet but I just care about you so much and I didn't want your awesome talents to go to waste.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my rambles. “So I spoke to Nathan for you when I went back to Fortune over Christmas. I showed him your work and he was so impressed. He had a spot in a show in January he needed to fill, so. . .”

His face is stony and expressionless. I'm beginning to regret this whole thing – I never should have gotten involved. I'm such a busy body! “You showed him my work? When? How?”

“I took pictures of it,” I reply in a small voice. “Oh God, I'm sorry. This was a mistake – I never should've gone behind your back. Tell me to go duck myself if you want, but please don't hate me. You don't
have
to do the show if you don't want to, I can just call Nathan and-” I squeak in surprise when he drops the cufflinks to the floor and grabs a hold of the front of my dress in his fists, yanking me to him and crushing his lips to mine with such ferocity that my knees go numb and I almost forget how to stand. Pulling back, he cups my cheeks in his charcoal covered fingers, his eyes shining with gratitude and excitement. I sigh in relief.
 

“You're incredible,” he utters. “I can't even. . . Thank you, Ibbie.”

“You're not mad?”

“You kidding? This is the best gift anyone's ever given me.” He swallows, pressing his cheek to mine. “You really care about me, don't you?”

The vulnerability in his voice makes my heart melt. “Of course I do.”

He wraps me up in his arms and sways us gently side to side.

Suddenly nervous again, I step back out of his hold and throw my purse on his sofa. “That's not your only gift,” I tell him. As he watches, I pull off my blazer and drop it over my purse.

His head tilts to one side as he regards me, his face inscrutable once more. “It's not?”

“You realize it's been a month since we started dating?” Carefully, I step out of my heels and nudge them to one side.

“It has,” he replies evenly, giving nothing away.

Keeping
eye contact, I reach around my back and pull down my zipper, letting my dress fall to the ground around my feet.
 

His eyes hold mine for a moment longer, his feelings still completely hidden. When his gaze finally travels down my body, he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “
Oh
,” he says. “So you want me to draw you?”
 

My mouth drops open, because that is
obviously
not what I'm here for. “What?” I splutter. When a girl drops her clothes in front of a guy after a month of no sex dating,
drawing
should not be the first thing that comes to mind.
 

Turning away from me, he picks the charcoal he must have been using before I'd arrived off the table and holds it up for me to see. “You want me to draw you, right? What position do you wanna pose in?”

I fold my arms across my lacy bra sullenly, glaring at him so that he knows I Am Not Amused. “It's been a
month
, Walt.” If he's forgotten that, then maybe he doesn't want me as much as I thought he did.
 

He nods obliviously, then grabs up his pad. It's the same pad he hid from me the first ever time I came to his apartment. I learned later that it was because the pages were filled with pictures of me. “So you wanna lay down, or maybe stand by the window, or-”

“Ugh!” I grab my dress up on the floor. “You are such a stupid idiot! How about we just forget the whole thing and I'll go home. Or better yet, you could just get off my planet-”

Suddenly he's in front of me, snatching the dress out of my hands and throwing it and the charcoal carelessly behind him. There's an annoying smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “I'm kidding, dumb ass.” He slides his hands around my waist, his fingers leaving black smears on my skin.

I huff. He really had me going, the jerk. Yeah, sometimes the old Walt still pops up every now and then. “You are so not funny.”

He kisses my pout with an adoring grin. “I'm a little bit funny. Of course I know it's been a month – I've been nursing a fucking semi all morning just thinking about it.”

I want to remain mad at him, but I find myself laughing anyway. “You're so romantic.”

Burying his face in my neck, he pulls me flush against his body and. . .oh, he's most definitely no longer nursing a semi. That thing is full mast. He presses a kiss against my throat, my collar bone, then behind my ear. “I'm going to kiss every inch of your spectacular body,” he promises in a gravelly voice. “And then I'm going to make love to you until you forget your own damned name.”

“Oh,” I breathe, clutching the back of his t-shirt. “Much better.”

His mouth covers mine as he kisses me firmly, leaving me with no doubts at all about how much he wants me. I slide my fingers into his silky black hair and he makes a low, pleased hum when I clutch him closer. My eyes close at the taste of his tongue, so warm, so perfectly Walt.

Unable to wait a moment longer, he walks us back into his bedroom, pushing me down onto his bed.

“Oh,” I repeat in a small voice when I see the candles lining every surface of his room. There must be at least a hundred. He really had been prepared for this; the thought makes me warm inside.

“Don't laugh.”

“Wasn't gonna.” I tug the bottom of his t-shirt and he sits up to lift it over his head. He kicks off his jeans before pressing into me once more.

I open my legs for him. We're both still covered by the thin layers of our underwear, but when he rocks into me I can feel almost everything and it makes us groan. He lowers his hips into me again, moving, rocking, driving me completely senseless. When he kisses me this time, it's furious, frenzied, ardent.

His hands move over my body, tracing my lines and curves like they crave my heat. My fingers move in patterns over his tattoos. He rocks into me extra hard and I throw my head back with a gasp as heat floods my body, holding his head against my skin as he kisses my collar bone and my ribs.

Deft fingers move to unsnap my bra. There's no hesitance in his actions now. For the first couple of weeks he was always hesitant when he touched me, like he was worried I'd reject him or leave him if he didn't treat me like a breakable glass doll. But he got over that when he realized that I wasn't going anywhere, and now he touches me like I belong to him.

I do. I belong to him and no one else, and he belongs to me.

I moan when his fingers brush my nipples.

“I love when you make that noise,” he whispers in my ear. “It's beautiful, everything about you is so fucking beautiful. I'm going to make you make that noise all night long.”

My heart pitter patters when Walt tells me I'm beautiful. He isn't the kind of guy who hands out compliments any old time, so when he does, I know he means them with every last inch of his soul.

And Walt, he's beautiful too, I've discovered. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. I'd never seen it before, probably because I hadn't looked hard enough, but he truly is. He's beautiful in an imperfect, harsh, misunderstood kind of way, and I'm beginning to find that's my most favorite kind of beauty of all.

His arms press into the bed as he leans up over me, glancing down at my face with lowered eyelids. There's something so raw in his expression. So wonderfully, wonderfully raw. I drag him back down so that I can taste his lips once more. His lips are my addiction and I never plan to quit them. My back arches as our bare chests brush together.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I breathe.

He kisses my heated cheek. “I'd wait forever for you.”

I bite that bottom lip of his, causing him to grunt in approval, then roll over on top. My hair falls over one of my shoulders, tickling his chest. His hands automatically reach up to palm my breasts as he gazes wondrously at my body. My panties come off next, and I drop them over the side of his bed.

“I'm keeping them,” he informs me with a teasing smirk.

I roll my eyes playfully. “You're stealing my panties? Some things never change.”

Laughing, he pushes up his hips to get rid of his boxer briefs. When we're both finally and perfectly naked, he sits up with me still in his lap and tugs at my earlobe with his teeth, causing my whole body to shiver in delight at the sensations. I
give a needy whimper, grinding shamelessly against him.
 

“Fuck,” he grunts, whipping us around until his body covers mine again. He's fast as frigging lightning putting the condom on, and then he's lining himself up against me, brushing up and down against my opening in the most tantalizing of ways.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I can't wait any longer, and I lock my legs around his hips, pulling him into me. We both sigh in unison as he slides inside and we find home, right there in each others bodies.

One of Walt's hands cups my head and the other sits by my shoulder as he rocks into me, again and again in a brilliant rhythm. Soft mewls escape my lips as I throw my head back in ecstasy. He worships my body, loves it, makes it ache in incredible ways.  

Our skin slides together, a fine sheen of sweat making us glisten as we move. His skin is darker than mine, the dark lines of the tattoos contrasting vividly with my own pale skin. I love the differences between us. He kisses every inch of me he can reach, and I clutch him tighter, unwilling to ever let him go. I'll never be able to get enough of him.

Soon I'm flying right over the edge, swept away in a wave of bliss and pure magic. Walt follows me over, yelling my name hoarsely, holding me tight against him as he lets go.

+++

I DON'T KNOW how many times we go at it, but he makes good on that promise to kiss me all over. I'm a puddle of goo by the time we finally collapse into the sheets, barely even able to lift my limp arm. Contentedly, Walt traces the black marks he's left on my skin with a quiet chuckle. Most of the charcoal has rubbed away by now, but I'm still in definite need of a shower.

“Sorry about that,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. I know the feeling – it's hard to feel anything other than completely blissed out right now. “Guess I should've washed up first. I was planning to, but then you got all naked and my brain rushed right to my dick.”

“I look like I've been having sex with a chimney sweep,” I reply cheerfully.

“That one of your fantasies? Dirty, dirty girl.”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly. He's got sleep tattoos on his cheek from where he's been laying against a crease in the pillow, and I trace the line fondly with the tip of my finger before moving it over the sharp lines of his face. I brush his full bottom lip with my thumb. “Burn.”

He laughs again. These days he always seems to be laughing. “You're funny.”

“You're going to break my heart,” I whisper, my heart clenching painfully. My feelings for him have come on so fast that sometimes I wonder if I didn't have them all along, locked up in some secret compartment in my heart that I'd never had access to before. He's unlocked so many things within me.

Kissing my fingers tenderly, he shakes his head back and forth. “Never,” he vows. He leans in and kisses me again, and as our tongues tangle, I think I might just believe him.

When our bodies finally recover enough to make it all the way to the shower, I absolutely insist that Walt joins me. You know, to save water and stuff. I'm just conscientious that way. Walt doesn't exactly complain, and we have a lot of fun getting all soapy and wet and dirty again.