"I do want to talk about it." He tenderly kisses my forehead. "As soon as I clear the air with Cleo, I want us to talk, Bridget. I want to talk about our future."

Our future? It's what I want to talk about too because a future with him is the one thing I want more than anything.

Chapter 15

"What would you say if I told you to move to Paris?"

"Bonjour?"

He cracks a wide smile. "You'd need to learn more than that. I can teach you the language. I speak fluent French."

Of course he does. Beck lived in Paris before he met Zoe. I didn't gather that tidbit of Brighton Beck's past from his wife or from his very detailed Wikipedia page. I got that from an article I read in one of the trashy gossip magazines I used to read when I lived in Connecticut and worked at the local supermarket. He moved there with one woman and ended up having an affair with another woman. I've never actually discussed that with Zoe because I want to keep our friendship in one piece. Bringing up her husband's playboy past would only hurt her.

"Why would I move to Paris?" I ask in my best French accent.

He cocks a dark winged brow. "Don't use that accent there. You'll offend the entire population the minute you open your mouth."

I pull my hand up to my lips to mask the giggle I can't contain. "I won't be offending anyone. I'm not moving to Paris. I live in New York."

"I went to Paris and my career took off."

No. He went to Paris and his libido took off. "You were famous before you went to Paris."

He tilts his head to the left. "I'm not famous."

I roll my eyes as much to make him laugh as to accentuate how ridiculous that statement is. "There's a graduate class at Yale that only covers your art, Beck."

He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. "How do you know that?"

Zoe told me but not before I'd read about it myself. I've followed his career since well before I met him. He's one of the major players in the art world today. His water color paintings routinely sell at auction for six figures. He's gifted and humble enough to appreciate the talent of others. The fact that he runs a studio in the city that offers art classes to underprivileged youth is often noted in the press. He downplays it though and it's one of the reasons I strive to have a career just like his.

"I know a lot about you." I brush a piece of lint from my sweater. "I was a fan before you met Zoe."

"You were the only person in the pub the night I met her who knew who I was."

I had practically fawned over him. I'd rushed to get him a drink and when I brought it back I had hoped to launch into a rant about how much I admired him. My goal was to mention my own pencil drawings. I never had that chance because by the time I returned with his whiskey in hand, he was mesmerized by Zoe.

"Can I ask you something?" I approach a line of his paintings that are hung on the wall of his home office. "It's personal."

"You can ask me anything you want, Bridget." He moves so he's standing next to me.

"Zoe hasn't said a lot about your past relationships," I begin as I trace my finger over the edge of one of the canvases. "I read about some of them."

"There's a lot of information out there." He stares straight ahead. "Not all of it is accurate."

"Does Zoe know everything about your past?" I turn to look at his profile. "Have you told her all about it?"

I see a vein in his neck twitch. His brilliant blue eyes hone in on my face as he pivots his body to face me. "I've answered every question she's ever had. She knows that my life was empty before I met her. She knows that I love her more than anything."

"My boyfriend," I stop to consider the title. "Dane, the man I've been seeing, has a complicated relationship with his ex-girlfriend. She's close to his mother, and she has a sister that he cares a lot about."

"That bothers you?" He frames it as a question, not a statement which means I need to answer it.

"It worries me," I say honestly as I scratch the back of my neck. "It's like there are all these ties binding him to Maisy. That's her name. His ex is named Maisy. How can we be happy and together if she's still a part of his family and he's still part of her family?"

"Does he love you?" His hand darts to his stubble covered chin. "Has he told you how he feels about you?"

"He loves me." The sound of the words coming from my own lips stops my heart for a brief moment. "He's told me a few times that he loves me."

"Families are complicated," he says hoarsely. "Zoe's parents have never warmed up to me. It's not ideal but I love her and regardless of what anyone else feels, I'll never give that up."

Dane's situation isn't ideal either but he makes me feel things I never knew I could feel, and I'm not about to give that up either.

"Bridget." He taps his hand on my shoulder. "I'm serious about Paris. There's a three month internship program there that you're perfect for. I've already spoken to the director and there's a spot reserved for you. It would allow you to show your work in some of the city's most influential galleries."

"There are galleries here," I offer back. "I can build my career here."

"Promise me you'll give it some thought."

"I promise," I reply, even though the thought of moving that far away from Dane rips me to shreds inside.

Chapter 16

"I thought you came over to talk," I finally manage to say.

"I have been talking," he growls as he weaves his fingers into my hair. "I told you how good it feels when you suck me off."

He did say that. He probably said it more than once but I was too busy sliding my tongue over the length of the thick root to hear anything but the moans coming from deep within me. I'd brought him to the edge and just when I felt his body tighten, I'd pulled back hoping to be rewarded with a hot burst of his release on my lips. He'd managed to level his breathing enough that he held off.

His cock is still rock hard and as I graze my lips over the lush head, I hear a low groan seep from his mouth. "I want it to last, Bridget."

I do too. I actually want him to fuck me. My body is aching for it. I've wanted him to take me this way for days and when he texted me an hour ago to say he was coming over, I'd dropped my sketchpad on the bed in the other room and I'd taken a quick shower to freshen up.

I kissed him the minute he walked over the threshold into my apartment and he was quick to yank my clothes off before sliding out of the jeans and sweater he was wearing. Now, as he leans his back against the wall of my bedroom, I rest my cheek against his firm thigh.

"Lick it again." He pulls gently on my hair. "Let me see your tongue on it."

I shift back enough that I know that when he looks down he can see my mouth touching him. I slide my tongue over the head, stopping to circle it again and again. I wrap both my hands around the thickness, sliding them slowly up and down.

"Bridget." My name gets lost in a moan. "I need to fuck you now."

I have little time to react before his hands slide from my hair to my shoulders. He jerks me up, and in one quick movement, I'm on my back on the bed. He leans forward, his moist lips meeting mine in a sensual, deep and core touching kiss.