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    With Every Stroke
    With Every Stroke
    With Every Stroke
    Ebook114 pages1 hour

    With Every Stroke

    By Devon Cross

    ()

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    About this ebook

    With Theo's career on the line and the art exhibit weeks away, he'll do whatever it takes to deliver his collection on time, even if it means dealing with another homophobic model. But when Alex takes an interest in Theo's art as well as himself, this beautiful distraction could cost Theo an entire year's worth of work.

    When Alex's friend asks him to help Theo reach a deadline, the last thing he expects is to get involved. On the heels of a nasty breakup, jumping into bed with another man, much less fall in love with him, is the farthest thing from his mind.

    Until he reaches Theo's apartment.

    All bets are off as soon as these two end up in the same room together. Can Theo keep his hands to himself long enough to finish his work, or will his heart win over reason?

    With Every Stroke is a steamy gay romance of approximately 30,000 words, with an HEA and no cliffhangers.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDevon Cross
    Release dateAug 16, 2017
    ISBN9781386931591
    With Every Stroke

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      Book preview

      With Every Stroke - Devon Cross

      Chapter One

      Theo

      Please tell me you’ve made some progress today.

      My sister Kendra had a habit of calling at the worst times, and now was no different. Even as I looked at my blank canvas, it stared back at me.

      Have you eaten at least? she asked once I didn’t say anything.

      Ahh, taking over the role of our mother. I knew it would come sooner or later. Yes, I’ve eaten, I said, rolling my eyes.

      And the painting? She sounded hopeful, as though she expected to get a different answer from what I’ve given her in the past.

      Maybe a little?

      You’re running out of time.

      I hated to let her down. I really did. In fact, she was the reason I got this deal in the first place. An entire exhibit to myself. My very first one, and if I kept dragging my feet, I wouldn’t just be blowing my career but probably hers as well.

      It wasn’t like inspiration could magically appear and give me that drive I really wanted, the same one I had back in college. It seemed as though the closer we got to the exhibit, painting became all the more difficult. At this point, I knew it was performance anxiety, but how the hell was I supposed to work through it?

      Can I at least know the tone you’re going for this time? Kendra asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

      I hadn’t even figured that out. Well, it’s sort of red-ish. Of course it’s red, you dimwit. It’s a heart. The heart of the piece. Of my entire body of work. Literally.

      You haven’t started it yet, have you?

      What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can aimlessly put color on the canvas.

      Why the hell not? Even if it’s just to get painting again, it’s worth doing. I know you can do this. Why do you keep blocking yourself?

      If only I knew. Truth was, every single morning I woke up, I dreaded having to paint. Art was something I loved to do. The drive was there, but for some reason I couldn’t paint.

      I’m going to send someone over, Kendra said.

      I considered arguing with he, telling her it was fine, but she and I both knew that was a lie. It wasn’t like the last muse she sent over didn’t help. In fact, his embarrassment and anger bled into the piece I worked on around him. That’s not to say I’d like to have the experience again. If she was going to send another, at least make him someone I’d get along with.

      Theo, are you even listening to me?

      I exhaled and flopped on the sofa, pulling a pair of pants from under me that I hadn’t even bothered to fold and put away. Fine, but try and make this one a little friendlier, okay? There’s nothing worse than studying a model who wants nothing to do with the art.

      She laughed on the other side of the line, and I could almost see her eyes light up as she pushed a tendril of hair from her face. I can’t make any promises. Just try your best, okay?

      I’ll try.

      Once I hung up the phone, I looked over the canvas I had perched on my easel. And, like before, it stared back at me. I really hope this muse works. Because, if not, I’m gonna have to find a new way to earn a living.

      ––––––––

      When Kendra said she was sending someone over, she didn’t tell me how gorgeous he was. As soon as I opened my apartment door, I was taken back by his intense blue eyes. As for his brown hair and the way he smiled at me then? I very well may have melted into the floorboards.

      As if on cue, Blue-Eyes said, You must be Theo. Kendra told me I could find you here. Am I too early?

      Even as confusion washed across his face, he was cute as hell. Eyebrows raised, eyes intently focused on me, and that damned smile again! I was in for one hell of a ride with this one. Especially since Kendra had already established the hands-off rule when I insisted I needed some live subjects. Clearly this was a way to get back at me for taking my time. I couldn’t decide then if I loved or hated her for it.

      I gave him an incredulous look. You here to get in my sister’s pants?

      The color drained from his face. What? No. God no. Dude, she’s a friend. Honest.

      I continued to block the doorway. If he wasn’t here to get brownie points, how did Kendra convince him to do this in the first place? And you know why you’re here?

      He shrugged as if it had no meaning to him in the world. To be a model. Why? Is that wrong?

      I blew out a long breath and closed my eyes. Kendra, you’re killing me over here. First she sends me a jackass, and now she sends a guy with probably the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. If I thought I didn’t get any work done before, there was not a chance in hell of it happening now.

      Shaking myself out of my trance, I backed away from the door and invited him inside. No, there’s nothing wrong. Sorry. Kendra has a habit of sending her suitors my way. You know, to see if they’re a good fit. But enough of that. I waved my hand to dismiss the subject altogether. Of course, taking one look inside my apartment, I really wished I’d had a chance to clean. Um... don’t mind the mess. I kind of have blinders on when I’m working. More like all the damned time.

      Clothes lay wherever they fell, and I never really bothered to clean up after myself since there was no one around to judge. Really should’ve thought about that last night.

      My model shrugged, removed his denim jacket, then tossed it on the back of the couch. I don’t mind if you don’t. He flashed me a smile that reached all the way to his ears. I’m Alex by the way.

      It’s nice to meet you, Alex. I offered him my hand, eyes widening from the electrical currents buzzing under my fingertips. Just let me gather my things, then we can start.

      No rush. So, Kendra really didn’t go over the details of what you’re working on. Are these all yours? He glanced back over his shoulder at me as he crouched in front of one of my latest pieces.

      Setting my paints and brushes to the side, I went over to join him. Yeah. This one here is called Fury, for obvious reasons. I could still remember putting down the first splatter of red, soon followed by the streaks of orange, and a handful of gray. The piece itself almost looked like fire and ash, which was exactly how I felt at the time. Granted, it didn’t fit in with the collection I was working on now.

      Then you’re an abstract artist. Alex rose to his feet as he noticed another piece resting against the opposite wall. Now that’s more my style. He went over and, like before, I accompanied him. I find it interesting you focus on not the entire body but segments of it. It’s different.

      It was also a big risk. Any artist could paint an entire model. I ended up focusing on the smaller things. Things most didn’t consider putting in their work. The eyes were a given, of course, much like the set staring back at us. I’d actually done just about every part of the male anatomy, one canvas at a time. Altogether, every single piece would become a full body of work. Literally. I had the overall look I wanted in mind, but every painting I did was a different tone. A different emotion. My hope was once they came together, viewers wouldn’t see a bicep, calf, or breasts. They’d see the entire human body, along with the emotions we’re bound to experience throughout our lives. As for the piece I was stuck on now? The last piece that was giving me so much trouble? It was the heart.

      That was one of the first pieces I did, I said, nodding to the intense eyes on the canvas. I guess it’s because it happens to also be the first thing I look at on an individual. Windows into the soul and all that.

      Alex looked right at me, meeting my gaze. I totally agree. It also shows you their intent. He stood then stretched his back. So, what piece is left? He glanced around the room, noting each of

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