Gravity: A Novel (17 page)

I could feel his deep voice resonating in his chest as he spoke.

I paused and thought about what he was saying. Seeing the girl who he remembered. I had once wanted to do something that would make a difference, to stand up for what was right. But that girl was lost and in her place was someone different.

“I wanted that too, but there’s something so unpredictable in criminal law.
There are too many surprises. I knew that I could work my ass off to try to make a difference, but, in the end, it’s out of my hands. The verdict is rarely the right one. I like feeling in control. I like the power that consumes me when I fight for something bigger than me. Knowing that, no matter the outcome, no one’s life is at stake. I don’t know how to explain it.” It was the first time that I had ever felt the need to defend my career path.

“I get it, Gem.
I was just curious,” he said, as he kissed me on the cheek and then on my neck again.

I took a deep breath and gave in to my body, knowing what it wanted, what
I
wanted. His lips found my shoulder as his hand reached around to cup my breast. I turned to face him, wanting—needing—to feel his lips against mine. I kissed him hard and deep as our hands explored the intimate venues that our bodies had to offer. Our conversation was lost to his touch. I was on fire, desperate for more, as desire consumed me.

“Feel free to take control at any time,” he whispered, between breaths.

My mouth turned into a smile. “Smart ass,” I whispered. But when our lips met again, I pushed him down, straddled him, and showed him just how much I liked to be in control. And by his symphony of moans, I could tell that he didn’t have any complaints.

***

An hour later, we showered together, devouring each other again and again. We couldn’t seem to get enough of one another. Our bodies finally demanded sleep, and I drifted away, nestled in Drew’s arms with a lazy grin stretched across my face.

I felt Drew shake my arm gently and looked up to find him standing over me.
The room was drenched in darkness; the night had fallen upon us while we slept.

“Come with me,” he whispered and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of bed.

I had the sense to drag the top sheet off the bed and wrap it around me when I noticed that Drew was wearing a pair of loose mesh shorts that hung low on his otherwise bare body. I followed him quietly up the stairs, down the long hallway that led to the sunporch that opened up to the upper balcony. When I stepped into the room, bathed in moonlight, I was awestruck by the paintings that hung on a wire that stretched across the far wall. An easel was posed in the middle of the room holding a blank sheet of paper, ready and waiting.

“Drew,” I breathed out.
He turned on an upright lamp in the corner of the room that illuminated his paintings in soft light. There were at least twenty strung up on the wall, all amazing replications of the lake and its beauty. Drew had a gift; he always had. I felt so much emotion in his paintings, like each brushstroke represented something profound. It moved me.

“I turned this room into a studio,” he said
, as if he needed to explain.

I moved closer to take in the detail of each painting.
“I didn’t know that you still paint.”

“I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it, until I came back,” he said, standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded over his bare chest.

“You’re amazing,” I said, crossing the room to him. I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck, letting the sheet fall to the ground as I kissed him tenderly. Drew showing me his work was like looking through a clear window, directly into his soul. I was so grateful and so proud of his talent, and so turned on.

His hands gripped my
backside, pulling me closer to him as he kissed me hungrily. He pulled away a moment later, his gaze raking over my nakedness. “You’re so beautiful, Gemma. Let me paint you, like this,” he said, almost a plea.

I had never felt so loved and so wanted as I did in this moment.
How could I say no?

“Where do you want me?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little shy and vulnerable.

He bent and picked up the bedsheet that was crumpled on the floor and led me by the hand to the chaise longue that sat in front of the balcony windows. “Here, lie on your side,” he instructed.

I did as he asked, letting him make slight adjustments
to my arms and legs.

He weaved the sheet around me, so that only parts of my skin were visible
; my breasts he left exposed. My head was propped up with a large square pillow that rested behind me. One arm was draped above my head, my long hair splayed out all around it. My other hand rested across my middle. I felt sensual and beautiful and completely comfortable as Drew sat on a small stool behind the easel and began mixing paint on a small palette.

At first I had a hard time keeping a straight face
—a smile threatening to erupt at any moment, but then I would look at Drew’s face, and a sense of calm and peace would wash over me. He was so beautiful, his serious features visible from the moonlight that spilled in from outside. His eyebrows were pulled in tight in deep concentration, and he just barely bit down on his lower lip with his teeth. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers along his lips, releasing them, to feel his skin beneath my touch.

He was completely silent for a long time
, and I wondered how long I would lie like this, how long it would take for him to complete this painting. My gaze never left his face, and, every now and then, our gazes would connect, causing my breath to still as I felt my heart pound in my chest. A slow burn was brewing inside me, the silent ecstasy escalating with each minute that passed by.

It felt like an hour before he finally put
down his brush and moved toward me. I felt my breath hitch as he knelt down beside me. I was on fire, ready to burst from the anticipation.

He ran his hand along my hair, grazing my hand that rested above my head.
Slowly, sensually, he leaned down and sucked my lower lip into his mouth, gently biting down with his teeth. I lay still, unable to move, barely breathing. His hands gripped the sides of my face as he moved his tongue into my mouth and kissed me deeply. I could feel it everywhere, my body thrumming at his touch.

When he finally pulled back, looking into my eyes with such intensity, I whispered into the space between us, “Did you get what you needed?”

“Almost,” he breathed, running his hand along my bare leg that was slightly bent above the other. He started at my ankle and worked his way up to my thigh before his hand slid behind me and cupped my backside tightly, his gaze raking over every inch of my exposed skin. He stood and removed his shorts, letting them fall to the ground, and then slid in next to me on the chaise, pulling me closer to him.

I was ready for him, the buildup burning through my core, begging for release.
He rolled me onto my back, pulling both of my arms above my head and held them there in his hand, gently, while his other hand pulled my left thigh up against his shoulder. He moved his hand to the cushion beneath us and rested his weight against it while he thrust into me, hard, his gaze penetrating me as much as his body, never wavering. My eyes blinked closed as I called out his name on a breath.

“Look at me
, Gemma,” he demanded.

I forced
open my eyes as he held me captive with his fiery gaze and his body’s demands. I felt my body explode with such intensity that it almost hurt, just moments before Drew found his own release, his gaze piercing me so deep that I could feel it in my soul.

Without a moment to recover, he pressed his lips against mine, fervently, releasing my arms in his grip to caress my face.
I brought my leg down to rest beside his and ran my fingers through his hair, pouring myself into his kiss—giving him back everything that he had given me in that moment. As open as we were with each other, I couldn’t help but feel that Drew was holding back, withdrawn, but the intensity in the room—in his gaze—felt like he had torn down the invisible wall around him, allowing me to see inside, to see all of him. In return I wanted him to feel all of me, now, in this very moment—so there was no room left for him to doubt how I felt about him.

Moments later, while we were enjoying the bliss, I asked him if I could see the painting.

“No,” he teased.

I started to wiggle out from underneath him
, and he wrestled me in place. When I finally broke free, I moved toward the easel, but he pulled the sheet that was still tangled around my body. I fell to the ground, laughing, as he rolled off the chaise and tackled me.

“I said no,” he said, trying to rein in his laughter.
“You always were a defiant little thing.”

“
Pleeease
,” I begged, nearly breathless from his weight that was crushing my lungs. I leaned up and kissed him on the lips, gently at first, but then I wrapped my hands around his neck and deepened the kiss until I felt him surrender. His body relaxed on top of mine and I slowly rolled him to the side until our positions were reversed. I could feel his need spring to life underneath me, and I knew that I had him right where I wanted him.

I continued to kiss him until he was rendered useless under my touch before making my move.
I rolled to the side and broke free from his grasp all in the same moment, and lunged toward the easel. His hand caught my ankle, and I fell to the ground once again. When I looked up, I could see the painting from where I was sprawled out on the rug. I was instantly mesmerized, taken in by the beauty of the girl on the paper—all from Drew’s hand.

“Oh, my God. Drew,” I said, unable to
break my focus away from the painting. I felt him release my ankle, and I stood slowly, captivated. He had captured every detail, every shadow, the way the moonlight struck my skin. But it was my face, mainly my eyes, that held me. It was as if he could see right through me—every fear, every dream, every loss, every desire. It was all there in my eyes. I was touched at the way he saw me; the beauty that I couldn’t see in myself was here, written through his eyes with the stroke of his hand.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, still in awe at how well he knew me, how much of me was in this painting.

“
You’r
e
beautiful,” he said, coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around me while we both admired his talent. I felt his lips brush along my bare shoulder, and I shivered as my eyes filled with tears—overcome by him, the girl in the painting, this moment.

***

Days drifted into the next, and we had hardly gotten out of bed. We spent hours naked, loving every inch of one another. Drew was insatiable. And I couldn’t complain.

At night we would cuddle in the warmth of a bonfire on the beach in front of Drew’s cabin, admiring the blanket of stars above us.
It was as if we could see every star in the galaxy from here. I loved getting lost in the vast canvas of night sky, imagining all the possibilities for my future.

It was late one night when we were lucky enough to catch sight of the northern lights.
I hadn’t seen the hazy iridescent colors since I was a child. The night’s phenomena was mostly in shades of green, as if there were ghostly vapors swirling across the dark sky, but I could remember the vibrant purples, blues, and reds that we had witnessed years ago when I was just a kid.

Drew was sitting in the sand, leaning back against a large log that offered seating near the fire pit.
I was resting against him, sitting in between his legs, wrapped in a blanket. I shivered against the chill in the air, and Drew wrapped his arms tighter around me.

“It’s pretty amazing
, isn’t it?” Drew asked, referring to the northern lights. The night was quiet; the crackling of the fire and a distant frog’s croak were the only sounds that could be heard.

“What causes this again?
I can’t remember,” I admitted, my gaze locked on the transparent colors lighting up the sky.

“If I remember correctly, it has something to do with gas particles in the Earth’s atmosphere and charged particles released from the sun’s atmosphere.”
Drew raised his hands to the sky. “They collide and, ta-da, we have the northern lights.” Drew wrapped his arms around me again.

“Very scientific, Mr. Monroe,” I joked.
“I think I like my dad’s explanation better.”

“Magic,” we both whispered at the same time, remembering my
dad and the tales that he used to share around the fire at night. I took a deep breath, fighting against the familiar ache.

Drew and I sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in memories.

“I tried to call him, Gem. But I think he’s avoiding me.” He leaned down and kissed me behind the ear.

I turned to look at him and asked, confused, “Who, my
dad?”

Drew looked me square in the eye and said, “William.”

I tensed at his name, and Drew’s eyes grew solemn. I turned back to the fire, ignoring the pain in my chest, ignoring Andrew.