"She's pro,"
I murmured, my voice filled with awe as I stood in Natasha's room, surrounded by an array of paintings that looked like they belonged in a gallery. My fingers brushed lightly over the edge of a canvas that depicted a serene landscape.
The delicate strokes and the vividness of the colors told me the hours she spent alone, working on her craft.
Then my eyes landed on something else—a painting tucked behind the others. I pulled it out, and my throat blocked as I stared.
It was a strikingly sensual piece: two nude women intertwined, lips locked in a passionate kiss. The depth of their emotions was captured perfectly, the flush of their skin against each other under the soft brushstrokes.
"Damn…" I muttered under my breath, feeling a sudden heat creeping up my neck. "This painting is so…"
