Free Breaking Free by Cara Dee

He could tell she wasn’t moving around in any way to get his attention, but that only made it more sensual. Sophie was focused on the task, getting on all fours to place her hands on each side of the black print from his shoulders.
    Without a word, she got up and retrieved the bowls of paint. She drizzled some right onto the canvas and then got down on hands and knees to smear it out.
    "Could you just put your hands a bit more here?" she asked, never facing him.
    Tennyson really didn’t want to get any closer, but he had no excuse. None he wanted to voice out loud, anyway. So he joined her on the canvas and followed her lead. He brushed his hand over the subtle heart-shaped print of her ass, catching Sophie's blush out of the corner of his eye.
    "Breast man or ass man?" She grinned as the color on her cheeks intensified.
    Tennyson tilted his head at her and smirked at the small spot of purple paint on her chin, but what really caught his attention were her eyes. Up close, he saw just how big and expressive they were. They held every shade between green and blue.
    Goddamn .
    And her mouth. Her lips looked soft, almost pouty.
    "I, uh…" Snap out of it . He met her gaze, hoping she couldn’t see the lust in his. "Yes. To both."
    "Heh." Sophie giggled shakily and ducked her head.
    It was time to stop. He stood up and wrenched away his gaze when the desire became unbearable. There was a sink in the corner, as well as a stand with a thick roll of paper towels—no doubt to use after cleaning brushes—so he occupied himself by wiping off as much paint as possible.
    The paint was already drying in places, and he finished his legs first so he could put on his pants. It was uncomfortable as hell, but it was either this or showing Sophie too much of himself.
    He was disturbed, wasn’t he?
    His reaction couldn’t possibly be related to only Sophie. There had to be something else, too.
    "All done," Sophie declared lightly.
    Good , Tennyson thought. She could get dressed now.
    By the time he had finished putting on his clothes, Sophie was thankfully back in her dress. They were both stained with paint, and Sophie wore the silliest grin Tennyson had ever seen. Silly cute, silly sexy. Carefree.
    "This was fun." She grabbed a prepared frame to tighten the canvas in front of. "I honestly don’t think I've gotten my hands dirty since, like, junior high."
    Which wasn’t all that long ago—not from Tennyson's perspective. But he understood what Sophie was saying, and he was glad she'd ignored the inner voices of her friends. They were most likely there in many decisions she made in her everyday life.
    "Let me help you." Tennyson forced a casual expression on his face and got to work. The paint was drying quickly, and together they managed to staple the canvas onto the frame. "I have to say it's not bad to look at." It was a complete mess, but it was creative.
    If he didn’t know any better, he'd say the two people who'd made it had had a great time creating it. It was erotic in a chaotic, fun way. It held not-so-subtle hints of passion. Prints from hands, feet, and body shapes.
    "Let's see what the charity lady thinks, shall we?" Sophie looked a bit nervous now. "I have a feeling it'll either be a hit, or we'll be laughed at."
    As it turned out, neither was the case; there were mixed reviews.
    When the charity's spokesperson, the café owner, and the reporters rejoined Tennyson and Sophie in the studio, they showed different stages of surprise and confusion. The spotlights came on brighter. The café owner was the first one who smiled widely upon connecting the dots. Her gaze flicked between Tennyson, Sophie, and the painting. The stains said it all, and the spokesperson found it very interesting and unique .
    Tennyson and Sophie exchanged wry smirks at that because they didn’t believe the spokesperson for shit. A few of the reporters worked at various art magazines, and they seemed to like it very much.
    Countless flashes of the