A Light in the Dark_Survival of the Fittest Read online

  “Oh, God. And, you wonder why I’m leaving.” Brie grabbed her purse and ducked around Jess so she could say goodbye to Cohen. “You guys have fun.” He offered her a sheepish grin and a half wave and then Brie eyed Jess. “Stay out of my room.”

  Jess giggled. “Spoil sport. See you later.”

  With her hands shoved into pockets and her breath puffing out in little white clouds, Brie made her way to the art studio. The one place she hoped would actually be able to hold her attention. After the kiss Bailey laid on her in London, nervous energy had left her unable to focus on any one task for the last few days. Her mind had turned into a tornado of emotions and excitement she couldn’t quite separate. Though she’d dreamt of Bailey touching her, now that it could actually happen, her dreams were muddled with fear. The safety net of her position separating them was no longer there to protect her from what could come of her time with Bailey.

  What would happen if they grew closer? What about her future in New York? What about his? He was just starting school and when he finished what then? Would he return to LA? To the band? The lifestyle? And, where would that leave her? Angry at him for leaving? Or, angry at him for making her give up her dream for his? She tilted her face down deeper into her scarf aware she was getting ahead of herself and worrying over what might be instead of what was.

  She blew out a breath against the inside of her scarf and walked faster. A distraction couldn’t come soon enough and the mural was going to be that distraction.

  Her plan was to create the London skyline. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, but people tended to like the familiar. And, what was more familiar than the London skyline featuring the London Eye, Tower Bridge, and the Parliament Building. It was a simple plan, but one she needed to get started on nonetheless.

  When she entered the building, she unwound her scarf and hung it on the coatrack near the front desk where Laurel was on a call.

  “Yes, that’s right. Thirty-five pounds for one class or one month for a hundred.” Laurel caught Brie’s eye and winked.

  Brie smiled and then set out for the classroom, her footsteps echoing across the empty space. She dropped her bag on the lone desk and crossed to the wall of windows where she proceeded to drag the heavy curtains closed. While they encouraged onlookers during class, tonight, called for seclusion.

  She took her phone out of her bag and scrolled through her music until she found what she was looking for, making sure to avoid all Survival of the Fittest music. Listening to Bailey’s guitar solos was hardly going to help her purge him from her thoughts.

  Settling on some alternative music from the 90s, she cranked the volume until she couldn’t hear herself think anymore. She was tired of worrying and dissecting. Tonight, she wanted to get lost.

  She dragged a large, dull gray sheet out from the storage area and slid it against the wall. It was covered in faded old paint stains from years of use. Then, she toted cans of paint from the cabinets, being sure to choose vibrant colors which would add excitement to the picture. The scene was familiar, but that didn’t mean it had to be boring.

  With her sleeves rolled up and her feet bare, she unrolled the sketch she’d done and taped it to one of the long mirrors to reference. Her mural needed to cover the space above and below the mirrors. The skyline would be above, with the mirrors serving as River Thames, and the space blow would serve as the opposite shore.

  She stepped back and tilted her head to the side, first one way and then the other. The space was empty, open, a blank canvas for her to do with it what she would. The scene of the skyline opened up before her artist’s eye. Tower Bridge appeared in her mind the way she’d seen it a hundred times, tall towers joined by the slope of iron.

  Opting to start in the middle, she lined the paint cans up at her feet and dipped her brush in the bright orange can first. With her brush in one hand, she climbed up to the third rung of the ladder she’d carried out from the closet and sketched the outline in the bright paint. The familiar fumes and thumping music filling her with a calm she desperately needed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Bailey rounded the corner, the sharp wind biting at his exposed skin, but his determination was too great to be thwarted by a little cold. Not after months of waiting, no years of waiting, because Brie wasn’t like anyone else he’d known.

  He halted when he ran into Laurel locking up Splash Pad for the night. “Is Brie around?”

  Laurel grinned, her knees seeming to go slack as she leaned into the doorframe for support. “Um, Brie? Yeah, she’s inside. Did you need me to get her?”

  Bailey stifled his smirk. “No, I think I can find the way. If you don’t mind.”

  “Nope.” She bit her lip and unlocked the door. “Not at all.”

  He slipped through the entrance, gave the girl a wink through the glass, and then he flipped the lock. Alone inside the entryway, he followed the thumping music and grinned. Guns N’ Roses, classic. When he spotted Brie on the ladder, arm extended while she reached for a high spot on the wall, he stopped and leaned against the doorway to admire the view. Tight calves flexed as she balanced on her toes, her midriff reflected in the glass, and as usual her dark hair was pulled back revealing her slender neck.

  He flexed his fingers as he imagined running them along the curve of her spine. An action, that until today, he’d had to put on hold, but no longer. Tonight, he planned to show her what they’d been waiting for. And, that he was worth it—that they were.

  Her eyes met his in the mirror and even from across the room he could see the color rushing into her face. He grinned and sauntered her way, letting the tension build. She didn’t turn at his approach, but kept watching him in the glass, her eyes on his. A guitar solo sounded in the background and he had a brief moment of clarity. It was a sign that this wasn’t a simple hookup. This moment and this woman were much more.

  When he reached her, he ran his hands up her legs and squeezed her thighs. The mere feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers was enough to awaken every part of him. They held gazes a moment longer and then she turned to him. As he lifted her from the ladder and set her on her feet, a silent understanding passed between them. What more was there to say?

  With deft fingers he lifted the paintbrush from her fingers and tossed it to the floor. Her hands free to roam, they rose to his shoulders and then pushed his jacket down his arms. He tossed it to the side and let her continue to explore. She took her time, her hands on his chest, feeling their way along his torso until his stomach quivered beneath her touch.

  He sucked in a breath as she slid her hands around his hips and then traced their way back up, this time hauling his shirt up over his head. Her eyes raked over him, but unlike others before and the doctors in the hospital he didn’t feel exposed or vulnerable, he felt alive.

  The hunger in her gaze made him want to please her in any way he could. Unable to stand still any longer he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her standing before him in yoga pants and a white lacy bra. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took in the sight of her. From the orange paint streak across her cheek . . . to the swell of her breasts . . . to the tips of her brightly painted toes, she was perfection.

  His eyes roamed back up her body and stopped at her neck. He let his fingers trace over her shoulder, across her collarbone and down until he brushed the tips of his fingers over the swell of her breast. When he did, she inhaled sharply and moved closer, their exposed skin touching. Like the rest of her body, her breasts were perfect, modest and inviting.

  His blood roared at the feel of her. He needed more. He moved his hand to her back and unhooked her bra with one hand while he caressed the side of her face with the other. Flesh met flesh in a collision of bodies and mouths. He tasted her mouth and let his tongue run along the edge of her upper lip, and then grazed the lower in a
tantalizingly slow kiss.

  Her tongue flicked against his igniting what was left of his self-control until there was nothing left. He stepped forward, until Brie’s back hit the mirror. She sucked in a sharp breath and then giggled.

  “It’s cold.”

  He grinned and kissed her again. Her fingers ran down his ribs and traced the top of his jeans. As she tugged at the button, he braced one hand on the mirror for support. His zipper followed and then nothing else was in his way as she freed him. He kicked his pants away and then used one of his hands to push her pants to the floor. She tried to bend to pull them the rest of the way off, but he stopped her.

  “Allow me.” He knelt on his knees in front of her and, with deliberation, slid the clingy fabric over her legs. He used his thumbs to massage her calves and then her thighs as he made his way back up her legs.

  While still on his knees, he looked up, the whole of her body before him in flawless shades of pinks and whites, the occasional freckle sprinkled along the way. The sight brought with it a renewed sense of urgency. He kissed her thighs, one and then the other, and then paused long enough to meet her eyes as he asked her permission without words. When she ran her hand over his head, urging him on, he kissed her again, this time where she was the warmest.

  Her back arched against the mirror, but this time she didn’t giggle or mention the cold. Instead, her hips rocked forward, her hand coming down to rest on his head as he tasted her again. Christ she was amazing and if he wasn’t careful their first night together was going to be short lived, but he couldn’t get enough.

  “Bailey.”

  When she gasped his name, he got to his feet. “Together. We go together.”

  She nodded and wrapped her legs around his waist. He gripped her tight ass and pulled her against him and then turned to lower her to the floor. As he positioned himself over her they locked eyes again and he knew he’d never be the same.

  With rock music as their soundtrack and the smell of paint surrounding them, he took her, their two worlds joining as their bodies melded together. One as lost in the air as the other, impossible to separate. He slid into her gently at first and then in a fervor of motion.

  Paint cans clanged somewhere in the background, but he didn’t care. The world could burn around them. If this was their end, so be it. He’d never get closer to heaven than he was at this moment.

  Brie’s gasps were coming faster now punctuated by moans. His heart threatened to explode in his chest as he moved—a fresh punch of pleasure with each motion. On the verge of taking them both over the edge, he slowed his pace, determined to make what they’d waited so long for last.

  He bent low to nip at her lips and then her breasts while he filled her with an aching slowness. Her back arched beneath him, her pale skin flushed pink under the lights.

  “Bailey, please.”

  He picked up the pace again and lifted his face to watch her soft expression as the pressure built within her. He wanted to see her when she fell.

  She clamped down around him and his hands balled into fists. He was undone. Her body clung to his and they moved like two instruments in harmony.

  “Fall with me, Brie.”

  She cried out, a shudder wrecking them both until they both collapsed among the spilled paint.

  A few minutes later, Brie chuckled against his side as she traced her fingertips lazily along his chest. “This is going to be hard to explain.”

  He pushed up onto his elbow and glanced around at the soiled drop cloth and pools of spilled paint surrounding their streaked skin. Then, with a devilish grin, Bailey dipped his finger into the blue paint, and touched it to the tip of her nose.

  Her eyes widened and she scrunched her nose at him. “No, you didn’t.” She shoved him onto his back and climbed on top of him. This time, it was her turn. She slapped her two palms into the collection of red paint next to her knee and wriggled her red fingers to show him what was coming.

  He grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  She giggled again and proceeded to place handprints over his torso. Her fingers slid across his chest and mingled with the sprinkling of hair, her eyes greedy. “Two can play at your little game.” She leaned down and kissed him, turning him on further. “Hey, what’s this scar from?”

  As she touched her finger under his collarbone he grabbed her wrist, gently, and with a firm motion moved her hand to his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

  The last thing he wanted to think about was his port scar or why he had it in the first place. He hadn’t felt as strong or as alive as he did tonight since his diagnosis and he wasn’t going to let it ruin what was happening between them.

  To distract them both, he dipped all of his fingers into some green paint and traced his fingers down over Brie’s breasts. Her nipples tightened at his touch and her back arched. There, that was what he wanted, her vibrancy, her heat, her light. He sat up and held her in place, kissing her shoulder and then her slender neck.

  “We’ll just have tell whoever it is that asks that you had your way with me.” He nuzzled against her neck and massaged his fingers into her hips until he could feel her pulse quicken beneath his lips. “Several times.”

  “Honesty is always the best policy I suppose.” She kissed along Bailey’s lightly shadowed jawline. “For example, that was the most erotic encounter of my life to happen in an art studio.”

  “Hmm, we’ll have to see if we can top it.” He leaned into her and kissed her. An easy meeting of the lips until he lingered and the kiss deepened.

  Her body responded at once and she rocked her hips welcoming him inside. They moved together again, this time he’d planned on taking his time to explore her, but as soon as she took the lead, urgency took over as they explored each other’s bodies with their mouths and their hands.

  As the familiar tension built and her pace quickened, Bailey stared at the woman changing his life. With her head thrown back in passion leaving the bluish veins in her neck visible, veins full of life and love, he buried his face in her chest, her pounding heart the last thing he heard before rolling her onto her back and over the edge for the second time.

  As they lay suspended, bodies intertwined and his mind empty of worry for the first time in years, he wondered if he’d ever been whole before Brie.

  Chapter 18

  When Brie crept home under the faint light of dawn, she took extra care to shut the door with as little sound as possible. Jessica hadn’t woken up earlier than nine or ten o’clock since they’d met claiming she was an artist and that artists were creatures of the night. Brie wasn’t sure if that were true of all creative types, but it was where her friend was concerned.

  As she slid out of her jacket she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Under normal circumstances she might’ve grimaced, but not today. The paint coloring her face and hair alongside her slightly swollen lips only made her self-satisfied grin widen. Body still humming from Bailey’s touch, she turned and then screamed.

  “Hiya, sorry there, Brie.” Cohen was standing in her kitchen with wet hair, rumpled clothes and a mug of coffee.

  She lowered her hand from her mouth and released the wall. “Jesus, you scared the life out of me.” As she crossed to the kitchen, too alert to consider sleep, she caught Cohen appraising her appearance.

  “How’s the mural coming along then?” He smirked behind his mug, but had the decency not to comment further.

  She poured a cup of coffee for herself and turned to lean against the counter. “I’d say it’s off to a good start.” They grinned at each other over their chosen mugs.

  “Right then. Well, I’m off.” He pitched the rest of his mug’s contents into the sink and headed for the door.

  “You know the semester ended. It’s okay to take a break.”

  Cohen shrugged into hi
s coat. “I know, but I have a project that I’m helping a friend with. Will you tell Jess I’ll call her?”

  “Will do.” Still smiling and not the least bit embarrassed about her sunup return home, she climbed the stairs and headed for the loo. What she needed was a bath or to break out into song, she didn’t care which.

  Feeling whimsical and only a little silly she rummaged under the sink for the bottle of bubble solution Jess was known to keep around. It was, after all, sort of a special occasion. While the tub filled, she set her coffee to the side and peeled away her ruined clothes. She moved to toss them into the rubbish bin and then paused and opted for the laundry hamper instead—a keepsake from their night together.

  The bubbles crackled around her as she sank into the warm water. Her body felt used in the best way, reawakened after a long drought. But, getting close to someone had been hard after Theo, if not impossible. How do you trust again after being hollowed out by another person? How do you overcome being betrayed in every way by a person who claims to love you?

  She raised her hand out of the water, red paint visible under her nails. Bailey wasn’t Theo. He was caring and warm. He’d had her back and taken the fall when he didn’t have to, all so she could hold onto her job. She sighed as she let the warm water slide from her fingers. Bailey with his expert hands and chiseled abs . . .

  The door swung open letting in a burst of chilly air and a disheveled Jessica. She paused on her way to the toilet and squinted down at Brie. “There seems to be an unusually large amount of paint in your hair. What happened to you last night?” She leaned down and inspected the water. “Are those my bubbles?” Her sleepy expression vanished and her eyes widened as she dropped to her knees beside the tub. “Tell me everything.”

  Brie recounted the evening’s events with fewer details than Jessica wanted, but enough to keep her squealing every three minutes.