She’d definitely never been remotely excited about the idea of exploring more of it as an adult. Until now. Exploring anything with Jake could be exciting. Who knew, she might even learn to love ancient pottery.
“Do you like art?” she asked.
“I can appreciate it as much as the average person, I guess. But I’m not educated about it, if that’s what you mean.” He smiled. “I’m always open to new things, however.”
“Good. Now, I know we’re supposed to be expanding our sexual boundaries.” She lowered her voice when a passing patron looked their way with a raised eyebrow. She blushed, anyway, when she caught the teasing light in Jake’s eyes, but forged ahead. “But, well, I thought you might enjoy this and…” She stopped trying to explain, suddenly nervous about her choice. Would he think it too personal? “It’s this way.” She tugged him out of the wing they were in and steered him toward the exhibit, before she lost her nerve.
“You seem to know your way around here. I take it you have been here before.”
“Several times.”
“A real fan of the arts, then.”
She laughed. “No.” She turned the corner and paused. “In fact, I loathe them on principal. Haven’t been here since I was fourteen and never planned to come back.”
He looked understandably confused. “What changed your mind?”
“Like you said, I’m open to trying new things. I want to see art through your eyes. Might give me a new outlook on the medium.” She grinned. “Sort of like the new appreciation you gave me for oatmeal.”
Jake laughed, then shrugged. “I try.”
“You succeeded. Now it’s my turn.”
He gestured in front of them. “Lead on.”
Natalie had been uncertain about how patient he’d be with this idea. They had limited time together, as usual, and by issuing an invitation at all, she’d basically tacitly agreed to go to bed with him again. Some men wouldn’t want to take any detours on their way to the good stuff. She’d been hoping Jake would indulge her. She was more than pleased to find him up for the adventure.
She barely got through the door, when he was tugging her over to a small bronze in the corner.
“I’m sorry, but I had to see this up close.”
Natalie just smiled and let him go. Yes, this was going to be another fun adventure, after all.
“Would you look at this,” he said in a hushed tone, stopping in front of a small sculpture of a Native American man on horseback. “You can almost feel the power of the horse, the muscles bunching beneath the rider.”
Natalie felt muscles bunching, too. Hers.
“You can actually see him clenching his thighs against the side of the horse as he leans over his neck. Amazing.”
Natalie’s throat went dry. “Yes,” she managed to say. So, okay, maybe she could appreciate art. She started to say something, anything, but he was already dragging her over to see another sculpture. She couldn’t help but smile at his honest enthusiasm. Never let it be said the man didn’t tackle new things with gusto. She barely held back a sigh. Boy, what gusto.
“The same artist,” he said, reading the small plaque mounted to the front of the pedestal.
This one was another bronze. It was a Native American woman kneeling, her hands cupped to her mouth as if sipping water just scooped from a stream. He said nothing as he studied it, but Natalie found herself studying him instead of the piece.
He was totally focused, taking in every detail. As he had before, when he found something that fascinated him, he blocked everything else out. She’d learned that with the blueberry.
“You can almost see her throat working as she swallows.” His voice was hushed, his respect for the artist obvious.
Natalie could only swallow hard herself. Was it her, or was it getting warm? She’d hoped he’d enjoy the sculpture, but she hadn’t had any idea just how sensual a study it would be. She looked at Jake—the smooth, hard lines of his face, the determined look in his eyes as he studied the piece. He seemed so rugged, too rugged to be such a sensualist. But she looked again at what he was wearing and realized the fine fabric of his trousers and lush warmth of his pullover were probably chosen for how they’d feel against his skin. Comfortable and plain enough. And yet undeniably sensual, when you thought about it. She had to curl her fingers inward against the urge to run her hands over the leather jacket he wore, the suede sleeves, the soft weave of the sweater stretched across his chest.
“Makes you wish you could touch her, doesn’t it?” he said, totally unaware of the direction her thoughts had taken her. “Feel the power of what the artist created under your fingertips.”
“Yes,” she said, and the word was heartfelt. Only, she wasn’t looking at the sculpture.
Her body vibrated at the idea of his long fingers exploring her with the same intensity he had focused on the bronze. If there was any way to make him leave right now and take her directly to bed, she would do it.
She caught herself and almost laughed. Now who was rushing ahead, impatient for the good stuff?
She took his hand, enjoying the rough warmth of his palm against hers. Had she known she could get so turned on in an art museum, she’d have come here daily. “Come over here,” she said, determined to get her mind back on track. “There is a piece I want to show you.” It was the piece from the cover of the magazine, the one that had given her this idea.
He glanced around him as she led him to the adjacent room. “This is all early Western art, isn’t it? Or inspired by the early West.”
“Different artists, but yes, the theme is the Old West. You come from the West, said your family had been there a long time, so I thought you might enjoy it.” She hoped that wasn’t treading too close to taboo territory, but he smiled.
“My ancestors were on one of the wagon trains well over a hundred years ago.” He paused by a painting just inside the door. It was a watercolor of the sun setting over the Rockies. “But I never thought of that history in terms of art.” He was silent for a moment, then looked down at her. “Thank you for this.”
It stunned her a little, how good it made her feel to please him. “You’re welcome.” When he looked at her the way he was right now, it made her want to do whatever it took to continue to please him. She cleared her throat. “The sculpture I want to show you is this way.”
He squeezed her hand and wove his fingers more tightly between hers. “How long is this exhibit here?”
“A few months, I think. It just opened.”
“Good. I’d like the chance to see more of it.”
She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m rushing you again.”
“No, no. I want to see this through your eyes, too.” He pulled her a bit closer. “I can come back later. Right now, I want to see what you want.”
What she wanted. Dear God, if he only knew how badly she wanted.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Show me the way.”
“It’s over here.” She slowed. “Of course, now I’ve made this big deal out of it and it’s not really. I just…well, I saw it on the cover of a magazine and it made me think of—” She broke off, realizing she was probably revealing more than she should about how much of her thoughts he’d occupied of late.
“Think of what?” When she balked, he turned slightly and pulled her against him. There was no one near them, but Natalie still stiffened and tried to pull away. He simply put his arm around her and tucked her right back against him. Grinning now, he said, “Think of what?”
“Let me go, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
She gave him a look, but he gave it right back.
“I’ll start taking penalty kisses right here the longer you make me wait,” he said.
That should have ticked her off. Instead it made her wet for him. “I shouldn’t tolerate this kind of treatment.”
“Yeah, it’s pure torture, I know.”
It was pure torture, and he knew it. Making her ache like crazy while fighting against her natural desire to not be so public about that ache. But she didn’t force him to end it, either, which she knew he would have if she asked.
He leaned in and took a quick but devastating taste of her mouth. “Clock is ticking.”
She trembled but said nothing.
The second kiss was slower, bordering on being too passionate and personal for a public place. It also bordered on making her not care too much about all that.
“Show me first,” he said, his voice a bit rougher. “Maybe I’ll figure it out on my own.”
He was giving her an out. She should take it. She didn’t. “You. It made me think of you.” I think about you too much. All the time. She only hoped that wasn’t written all over her face.
“Thank you,” he said softly. He kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth, then released her. Which conversely made her want him even more. “Show me.”
This was not how she’d planned this. She should have known that anytime the two of them got together, this would be the result. And the problem with that was? she asked herself. The problem was, she was coming too close to revealing her growing feelings for him. Feelings she had to get under control if she was going to continue this. And Lord, she wanted to continue this.