Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Wow.” Kiel gasped as he looked at his surroundings.
“I come out here to think sometimes.”
“Not to paint?”
Eloise shook her head. “Not everything has to be painted or brings inspiration. There are times when my mind needs the chaos of the pier or the beach, and then there are times when I need this.” She paused for a moment. “The peace and quiet. The ocean raging and reminding me I’m human and I’m allowed to make mistakes. The tranquility I feel from sitting here with my eyes closed. I love being able to use my other senses to keep me grounded. Painting takes a lot of me sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
Eloise sighed. “I remember, when I was younger, my grandfather would lock himself away for days on end, living off take out or whatever my grandmother would leave for him. My father called him manic, but that’s not it. The best way I can describe it is a need, a yearning, to paint and create and the feeling doesn’t go away until our mind tells us we’re finished.”
“Does that happen often?”
She didn’t answer right away, afraid she’d scare him away, even though she should. Eloise had no business getting involved with him so if he ran, he’d be better off.
“It’s one of the reasons my dad is adamant I get what he considers a normal job. I scared my parents once. I didn’t come out of my room for a week. They’d check on me, bring me food, but I sat on my stool for hours on end just painting. When I ran out of canvases, I started a mural on my wall. My room was a mess. My father says it’s a sickness and wanted to throw all my supplies away. He tried to forbid me to paint.”
“I’m happy he didn’t succeed.”
“He might have if it wasn’t for my aunt.” Eloise said with a shrug. “My mom called her, asked her for help.”
“Does your aunt go through this as well?”
Eloise nodded. “I think at some point, all artists do. Not just the ones who paint, but anyone who creates. Your task overwhelms you and you become your work.”
As tempted as she was to ask him what he thought, she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t too late for him to peace out or for them to remain friends. They’d shared a couple of kisses and hand holding. Nothing that would be heartbreaking.
“How often do you come out here?”
“This is my first time since I came back to Seaport.”
“Thank you for bringing me. For sharing this part of you with me.”
Eloise glanced at Kiel and squinted. The position of the sun cast the perfect glow around him. Now, she wished she could capture him for a painting. She studied him. Drank him in. Determined to memorize him this way.
Kiel closed the height distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm against hers, and the desire to taste him was overwhelming. Eloise opened her mouth with anticipation, inviting him in. His tongue touched hers softly, hesitantly, and she moaned out of pure pleasure.
French kissing was Eloise's favorite form of foreplay. More than anything, aside from sex, the simple act of arousing each other this way made her yearn for more. Kiel responded to her advances with enthusiasm, exploring her mouth with a gentle, patient intensity that seemed to increase with each passing moment.
Eloise felt her heart race as she felt his hands move from her waist to her hips, deftly pulling her closer to him. She could feel the heat emanating from his body as they embraced, and soon, their passionate kiss became almost frenzied with desire.
Eloise knew that this was just the beginning of a night that promised to be even more passionate and pleasurable than she had ever imagined.
“We should go,” she said when they parted. Kiel nodded and placed small kisses on the corner of her lips. They held hands on the way back to the car, stopping only to pick a bundle of hydrangeas. When she held one to her nose, Kiel snapped a photo of her.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned in while he took a photo of them together. “Send that to me?”
“Of course.”
They made their way to the grocery store, where they went back and forth on what to eat. They settled on steak frites with black garlic butter. Kiel offered a few times to get takeout, but Eloise insisted on cooking for him.
“It’s something I can do that I’m good at.” With the hanger steak in hand, along with four large potatoes and a bottle of wine, they checked out. Kiel carried the groceries to the Wrangler and then froze.
Eloise laughed when she saw him looking at the backseat, sans doors. “I’ll hold the bag.”