To be consumed by the need for ecstasy to the point where logicality and shame meant nothing, where those brown smoldering eyes that gazed at her, were all that mattered.
At first, her plan had been for him to see her, then she had progressed to wanting him to know how she felt, just like the other paintings she had described to him, just like the many things he wanted to touch but couldn't.
She had been caught in the moment with the painting and done what she did without much thinking. Her system had shot into overdrive and her brain had taken a break from shock. She didn't want him to feel terrible about it, it appealed to her in a sick way she couldn't describe, and in her bid to reassure him, she had stripped and approved his actions further.
Besides, had she not told him to show her all the paintings and she would describe how they felt to him?
That had been one of the reasons she went ahead. She wouldn't scurry away just because a couple of those paintings were of her.
