I reach up to grab his face but his hands are quicker than mine. He pushes them down, so they're resting on the sheets. "I have to put on a condom. Don't move. Don't move an inch."

I nod without a word. I pull in a deep breath as I watch him reach towards the nightstand to pull out a condom package. He rips it open without breaking our gaze. My eyes drop as I watch him sheath his erection quickly and deftly. His hand circles his cock, pulling the condom into place.

His eyes rake over my nude body. "You're so beautiful."

I blush at the compliment. I don't feel exposed when he looks at me. I always feel cherished and admired. My body may not be perfect in the eyes of many men, but I know when Dane looks at it, that he's seeing something he desires at the deepest level possible.

I cry out when he rams himself into me balls deep in one movement. I arch my back trying to adjust to the full length and girth of him.

"Take it," he whispers the words against my lips. "Feel it all."

I reach up to cup his cheeks in my hands. "I feel it. Please."

He starts moving. His hips pounding out a steady rhythm as his hands rest on the bed above me. With each pulsing thrust of his body against mine, a small growl flows from his lips. It's masculine. It's intoxicating and the sheer depth of him inside of me pulls my desire to the surface.

I clench myself around him, which only spurs him on more.

"Fuck," he says into the still air as he throws his head back. "Ah, fuck."

He pumps his hips into mine, each movement deeper than the last. I cling to his face, wanting to find my release so he can chase his own. I know he won't come until I do.

"Dane," I call out his name as I feel the rush approaching.

He adjusts his leg on the bed to gain leverage with his knee, curves his hand under my ass and drills his cock into me with a fierce tenderness I've never felt before.

I pull him closer as I feel the edge approaching and as I climax, I call out his name in a heated rush. He pumps one last time and through clenched teeth he lets out a low moan as he finds his own release.

Chapter 17

"Did you see Brighton Beck about your drawings?" He pushes my hair from my forehead.

We'd collapsed into a mess of arms and legs after we both came. He held me for a few minutes before he pulled himself up, rid himself of the condom and went to get us a glass of water.

Now, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, completely nude. I stare at his back and the definition in the muscles. "I saw him. He thinks I should move to Paris."

His shoulders stiffen almost instantaneously. I watch as his hands leap to his face. "Paris?"

I reach up to run my fingers over the back of his neck. "There's an internship program there. They're saving a spot for me if I want it. Beck thinks it would help my career."

"It would." He turns briefly and I catch a glimpse of the side of his face. It's striking. I doubt that I'll ever tire of looking at him.

I adjust my body so I'm resting against the mattress again. "I'm doing well here. I'm still selling portraits at the gallery. I'm going to see if I can find people who want more commissioned pieces."

It's something I've been thinking about since I finished the drawing I did of Leanna Henderson. She loved it and Harper, the physical therapist who had helped me after my accident, even called to ask if she could buy her portrait. She was trying again with her ex and wanted to give it as a gift to him. I had dropped it off at her office with a smile and a question about her future. She was cautiously optimistic that they could make things work this time. I'd left her office with a hug after giving her the portrait as a gift.

"You're too talented not to chase your dreams, Bridget."

"I am chasing my dreams." I glide my legs along the soft sheets. "People pay to buy my portraits at the gallery and Brighton is going to include a few of my drawings in his exhibition. I'll be a featured artist he said."

He pivots his hips, pulling his knee up and bending it so he's sitting on the bed, half facing me. "There are more people in Paris who can help you. A lot of aspiring artists who go there hit it big."

I know he's only thinking about my future, but the fact that he's on board Brighton's one way train to Paris train surprises me. I want him to support my career, but I didn't think he'd be pushing me towards moving across the world. "Paris is far away."

"You have a gift." He turns towards the portrait I'd set on the dresser earlier. It's one I started earlier today when I spotted an elderly man in Central Park. "If you don't nurture it and go after every opportunity to share it with others, you're going to regret that one day."

I pull my arm over my face, trying to mask the disappointment I feel. "I can't move to Paris right now. I have too much going on here. I'm going to start back at the pub soon. They need me."

He leans forward, his left hand darting to the mattress to support his weight. His gaze catches mine as he looks down at me. "Nothing here is as important as your talent, Bridget. Think about this long and hard before you make a decision."

I turn away from him as I bury my cheek into the softness of my pillow. I don't know what there is to think about. Maybe the one thing that I thought was keeping me in New York isn't worth staying for after all.

***

"I think you should take that portrait you did of her to the hospital and give it to her." Zoe motions towards the portrait of Cleo that is still sitting on the easel by the window.

I glance towards it. Since I found out that it was Maisy's sister I've been able to walk past it without feeling as though my heart is dropping out of my chest. "I don't know her. I don't think going to the hospital is a good idea."

"Why not?" She pulls a portrait I did last year of a couple from the cardboard box that is now sitting atop the bed. "I think it would mean a lot to her."

I've thought that too. I've never drawn people as a means to financial gain. I've been lucky that my portraits have sold as well as they have but I've always felt it would have more meaning if I could hand some of them back to the people I captured with my pencil. Cleo is a perfect example of someone I drew at a pivotal time in her life. She was pregnant, planning her future and celebrating with the man she loved.

"I need to talk to Dane about it first." I reach past Zoe to rifle through the drawings. "Beck said I should pick portraits for the museum that would speak to a lot of people. He wants me to choose some that mean the most to me."

She nods as she begins pulling more from the box. "If you don't take Cleo's portrait to her today, she's going to be discharged and you'll lose your chance to give it to her."

I turn back towards the window and the drawing. "I'll text Dane first and if he's okay with it, I'll take it."

I'm grateful when she doesn't respond. I know she's aching to tell me that I don't need Dane's permission to do anything, but when it comes to Cleo, I don't want to get in the way of him trying to mend the friendship the two of them once had.

Chapter 18

"Visitors are only allowed for another hour." Vanessa glances at her watch. "My break is then, so go see her and then I'll buy you some dinner."

"Cafeteria dinner?" I joke. "I might pass on that."