The professor rambles for a little bit about the importance of art and history and what his areas of expertise are before he says, “But the best way I find to learn about art is to create it yourself .”
Several small moans can be heard throughout the room. There is a reason most of us are art history majors instead of artists .
He motions for us to stand up, so we do. Then, we follow him to another room where easels are set up throughout the room .
“Take a seat. We are going to work on two paintings. The first will be of an object, and the second will be of a person .”
I sigh. I’m a horrible painter. I’ve tried countless times, but it’s just not a skill I’ve ever learned to harness. I love art, and I love history. I would love to be able to contribute something meaningful to this world, but I realized that I would never be the kind of person who could paint, draw, or do anything artistic. I’m the kind of person who will study it and teach others how to use their gifts and learn from the past .
“Start by painting this beautiful bouquet of flowers .”
That’s all the direction he gives us after showing us the vase of flowers, and then he sits in the front of the room. I don’t understand what we are supposed to learn from this class if he’s not going to give us any amount of instruction. I could attempt a crappy painting of some flowers at home anytime. But I should be happy because it gives me time to mindlessly think about Arlo .
“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?” Eden asks five minutes after we’ve started painting .
“Not today .”
I get lost in painting until I have a picture that resembles a vase of flowers that a five-year-old could have painted .
“You’re a good painter,” a man sitting to my right says .
I raise an eyebrow. He’s got to be kidding. Most people looking at my painting wouldn’t even be able to make out that I painted a vase of flowers. I turn my attention back to the boy on my right. He is very good-looking with light, sandy blond hair and a bright smile. I’m sure most girls immediately fall for his charm .
Why can’t I go after someone like him ?
Because he’s a boy, not a man. Because he’s easy, not hard. Because I can already guess every boring thing about him. He’s not the excitement that I crave .
I open my mouth to say, Thank you for being so nice, but I know you’re just trying to sleep with me , when I hear a deep voice say, “It looks like shit. You should tell her that if you want to get into her pants. I’m sure she’d spread her legs for a good-looking boy like you .”
My mouth drops as I look up and see Arlo standing over us with a wicked grin on his face .
“He’s right; it does look like shit. While I appreciate you trying to give me a compliment, my painting skills are not what you should be complimenting me on. And, as far as sleeping with me goes, he’s right .”
I watch both men’s eyes grow wide .
“The only men I don’t sleep with are those who lock me in a dungeon and think they can control me,” I say, glaring up at Arlo .
“Oh, Mr. Carini, you made it,” our professor—I already forgot his name—says as he runs over to Arlo and kisses him on each cheek .
Arlo walks to the front of the room as the professor says, “Everybody, this is Mr. Carini. He will be helping us with our paintings this afternoon .”
I watch as Arlo removes his black leather jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. My mouth waters, and my cheeks flush when he begins unbuttoning the dark blue shirt that he is wearing underneath his jacket .
I turn my attention back to the professor, who’s still rambling, but I do manage to catch his last word .
Nude .
We will be painting Arlo in the nude .
Arlo smirks as I realize that I’m going to see him naked and be forced to attempt to paint him naked while keeping my composure. I’m sure I won’t be the only one who struggles with painting a naked man. I glance around the room, but no one else seems to be blushing or fidgeting in their seat like I am .
Arlo continues to undress with his eyes locked on me. Today, he seems to be in a better mood, probably because he got a good night’s sleep while I attempted to sleep on a dungeon floor. I’ve seen him almost naked before, but somehow, him undressing in front of us makes it all the more intimate, especially when his eyes stay on me the entire time he’s doing it .
My cheeks flush a bright shade of pink when he pulls down his pants and briefs all in one motion, and his cock springs free. I try not to stare even though I know every other warm-blooded female in the room is doing the same .
God, his body still draws me to him just as much today as it did before he locked me up .
“Paint. Free your mind, and just paint,” the professor says, breaking the spell that I’ve been under since Arlo came into the classroom .