“Do you think Degas was a perv?”

JC almost choked at my question, stopping to turn around and see if anyone was near us and had heard me. “No, I don’t think he was a perv. Do you know the history of these pieces?”

I shrugged, making my way down the quiet walkway between either side of the gallery. One side was laden with paintings from various periods in Edgar Degas’ career, from his oils to his pastels. The other side held some of the sculptures he started when age and poor eyesight began to take over. Dipped in bronze, they gleamed under the bright lights of the gallery. I stopped in front of Woman Combing Her Hair, a depiction of a woman, nude from the waist up, dragging a comb through waist long auburn hair.

“I’m familiar with him.” I nodded at the paintings, all in a row, noting the similar theme. “I’m just looking at these paintings and thinking, hmmmm…women in various states of undress. Just wondering if he was just exorcising some demons. You know?”

JC appeared next to me, studying the painting, arms crossed, one hand disturbing the stubble as he mindlessly rubbed his chin. “Mmmm…” he mused. “I think it’s more that he had an appreciation for the female body. There’s something artistic about a woman’s curves. Think about all the art that focuses on women’s bodies.”

“Spoken like a fellow perv.”

He laughed, low and quiet, and stepped behind me. I felt his hand at my waist, his thumb working the hem of my shirt and slowly scraping across bare skin. He leaned forward and mumbled into my ear, “At least I don’t stare and play grabass in public. That’s all you. Don’t act like I’m the only one.”

I worked hard to conceal my smile, shooting back at him, “You like that about me though.”

“Love it. That’s beside the point,” he said, stepping back, taking his thumb away just when it was feeling so good, shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans and walking on, to the next exhibit, leaving me to smolder and compose myself before following him down the aisle.

He was so deliciously evil, even when I was mad at him. Even when we were fighting, he was hot. I loved him and hated him, at the same time.

“I’d love to own a Degas someday.” I nodded at the doorman as we exited the gallery into the chilly air. The sun was setting over Brooklyn, the shadow of the famous bridge cutting into the fiery orange skyline.

“Which one would you want?” JC asked, stepping beside me, squinting into the sunset. “The Ballerina one?”

“Do I look like a Ballerina kind of girl? Any of them.” I was occupied with trying to hold the phone steady long enough to snap a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge. Melissa was going to kill me--I sent her pictures of a giant rotating cow and two hotel rooms. I’d been having too much fun to even think about sending snapshots to her and Annette. “I mean, just to say I owned one, I’d take it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t want one, just because of the name. It should mean something to you. Every piece I buy says something to me. That’s like… wanting to date any celebrity, just as long as he’s famous.”

I glared at him, over the camera, snapped a few pictures of his profile against the darkening sky. I saved them and slid it back into my pocket. “It’s not quite the same thing, but I get your drift. I don’t know, I kind of liked the woman combing her hair.”

“The one you said was pervy.”

I linked arms with him and started walking him down the street. The restaurant I where I wanted to have dinner was a few blocks uptown. We’d get our exercise and enjoy the fresh air—and get there faster—if we walked.

“I didn’t think the painting was pervy. It was beautiful. But I was considering his motivation for always painting half nude women. What do you think that one goes for?”

“Uhm, a rare Degas?” His head bobbed side to side, his eyes rolling upward in thought. “Thousands, probably. Lots of thousands. But I could get you a fake for a couple grand.”

“What would be the point of a fake Degas?”

“To tell people you have one.”

“But I don’t. Wouldn’t. I’d have a fake.”

“No one would know.”

“I’d know.”

“You’re so picky.”

“So? Just like I wouldn’t date just any celebrity, just to date him. He’d have to be just the right one…”

“The right one meaning the one that puts up with your shit?”

I wrapped a hand around his arm and pressed up against him as we made our way down the city block. “He’d be tall… well, taller than me. And have dark, dark brown hair. He might dye it, every once in awhile, to cover the gray that’s coming in. But he’ll stop doing that, because I like the gray.”

JC was smiling, fighting laughter. “Oh, he will, will he?”

“If I told him I liked the gray, that I thought it was sexy and made him look all distinguished and handsome, he probably would.”

“What else?” The restaurant came into view a few blocks away. The setting sun reflected off of the glass, sending shards of light up into the sky. I couldn’t wait to get there. I was hungry, and it was cold.

“Well, he’d have the bluest eyes you ever saw. And broad shoulders and these incredible arms and…this sick body, and this really sexy attitude about himself, kinda like… he knows he’s hot shit, but doesn’t want to draw attention to it. I call it swagger, and he’d have it, so fucking much of it.” I sucked in a breath, trying not to get all worked up. Breathe, Serena. Pace yourself.

JC was laughing, so hard and loud he almost couldn’t walk straight. “I’m serious. I’d have a favorite part of him, though, a part I like more than his eyes or his shoulders or his arms or his hair.”

“You’ve really thought this out. It’s so creepy. Can I guess what this favorite part is?”

“Well, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, it’s not? What is it?” I giggled and pulled away, suddenly shy. He was going to think I was either weird or crazy. JC held my hand and pulled me back close to him. “Is it the big toe on his left foot? His left ear? His bottom lip?”

“No. It’s… it’s his nose.”

He stopped suddenly, nearly pitching me forward onto the sidewalk. “His nose? His nose. Out of all the body parts that could be your favorite, you like his nose.”

“Uhm…yeah. His nose.” I pulled at his arm, to get him walking again. “I never used to like it, but he’s grown into it so well. I think it’s very… Greek God. And now, well…it’s perfect. I’d probably really love his nose.”

I ducked my head, avoiding his stare as we walked on, crossing the last street before arriving at the restaurant. He elbowed me once, then twice, and then kept doing it until I gave up, sighed, and looked up. He eyed me, more amused than apprehensive, thankfully.

“So you like the honker, huh?”

“It’s not a honker! Stop that, your nose is great.”

“I thought we were talking about someone else.”

“Whatever. You know something I like even more than his nose?”

“Oh, here we go…”

“See, you’re such a pervert. I was gonna say…” We had arrived at the restaurant, but I had something I wanted to tell him, before I lost my nerve, and the moment passed. I stepped in front of him, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him toward me.

“I was going to say that I would really like… no love… how well he took care of me. And how well he treated me, and how much he loved me, and never made me feel like I wasn’t special because I wasn’t on his level, or whatever. I’d say that I loved that he was the nicest man, ever, especially when I’ve been a brat all day and I appreciate it when he’s patient with me. And I’d tell him that I’m having the most fun I’ve ever had on a road trip. And that I kind of don’t want it to end.”

The pink hue of blush in his cheeks was barely visible in the rosy glow of dusk. He glanced right and then left, then shrugged and leaned forward. Soft lips brushed across mine once, twice, and a third time, lingering and then pressing as he turned his head and open his mouth. His hands came out of his pockets and found a new home, curled up in my hair as he stepped in, moving closer, as close as he could get, so close I could feel his heart beating double-time. My arms slid around him, clinging to him as we stood on the sidewalk, in front of a brightly lit restaurant on a busy street in Brooklyn, enjoying a long, slow, romantic kiss like there was no one else on the planet.

For those few minutes, there wasn’t. It was just him and I. I wished it could stay that way.

“Mmmm…” he hummed, pulling back with a sigh, just far enough to see my eyes. “I love you,” he said, in a voice just barely audible. “Even when you’re a brat. All day.” His eyebrows rose and fell and I couldn’t help but laugh and dip my head.

“I know you think you’re lucky to be with me, but it’s really the other way around. That other guy you were talking about, back there? The right one, the perfect celebrity? The problem is, that guy is a celebrity. I mean, he sounds nice, but…” He shook his head slowly. “Most of him is an image that’s put out there for public consumption. Behind him, behind that image, is me. Grumpy, bossy, neurotic, overbearing… me. I don’t know about that other guy, how he feels about you, but I love you. Imperfect, regular, normal… me. Pick me.”

I could have melted into a puddle, right there on the sidewalk. As imperfect as he insisted he was – and I found out every day how right he was about that—he was perfect for me, in every way.

“Well…so… do you kiss better than he does? Cause that was pretty awesome.”

JC laughed, then tipped his head forward until his forehead met mine. “I can name a couple of things I probably do better. But we’ll get into that later. Hungry?”

I nodded, then stretched up, onto my toes and kissed him. “And cold. Let’s see if we can catch the last of the sunset.”

Dinner was elegant and cozy and romantic, in front of a spectacular view of the water, the city skyline and Brooklyn Bridge just beyond its banks. The walls were windows; floor to ceiling was nothing but glass. Absolutely nothing but a thick pane separated us from New York.

“Do you want some dessert, or do you want to get some drinks? Maybe stop for something sweet later on?”

I pondered my options as the waiter cleared our table. We’d had wine with dinner, almost a full bottle between us. JC seemed fine but since I rarely drank I was on my way to tipsy. And enjoying it.

As soon as the table was cleared, I stretched my arms toward him, palms up. His hands dwarfed mine as he reached across the table and held them. “I think I’m ready for drinks. I don’t know where we’re going, though. It took everything in me to send our clothes out to the laundry.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re a freak who can’t let people touch her clothes.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling in the low light, crinkling around the sides. “Good for you, honey. Uhm, I might know a few places. Let’s go back to the hotel, first. I’ll make some phone calls. And you can find something warmer to wear.”

The cab ride was long, but warm, snuggled in the backseat together, listening to the low music crackle over cheap speakers. JC sang a few bars here and there, tapping a beat against my hip. I was content to lay my head on his chest, listen to his heartbeat and watch the nightlife roll by. Finally, the cab pulled over outside our hotel and we piled out, into the chilly air.

We smiled at the concierge on entry, and made our way to the elevator. “You alright?” I asked him as we waited for the doors to slide open.

“Perfect,” he answered. A ding announced the arrival of the elevator. The doors open and we stepped in.

“You sure? You’re a little quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just happy.” He grinned and rubbed his belly. “And full.”

We reached our floor, the doors slid open and we stepped out. As usual, JC felt along the pockets of his jeans and through his jacket. “Uh oh…”

“I never give you your card anymore,” I said with a sarcastic smirk, producing both keycards from my purse. “You always lose it.”

“Thank God. I could swear you gave me one.”

I slid the key through the reader and opened the door. A note from the Laundry service had been hung from the knob —our laundry was ready at the front desk. I was impressed. And a little happy at not having to do laundry.

“Wow. I could get used to that. Right after I stop heebing over someone touching my clothes.”

JC laughed and shed his jacket and shoes, tossing them both toward the bed, then dug his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it. “You’re a funny girl. I’ll give Darren a call, see if he’s in town. Maybe there’s something going on tonight.”

I was dreaming of a hot, steamy shower. I was chilled to the bone and would be good for nothing if I couldn’t warm up. “If you end up getting talked into working, I will hurt you. Remember that.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I came out of the shower, warm and fresh and clean to find him lounging on the couch, his legs stretched across the small coffee table, feet dangling over the edge. The TV was on, a glass was in his hand and a mini bottle of vodka sat on the table next to his leg.

“You started without me?”

His eyes seemed more occupied by what I was wearing—a plush, white terrycloth robe, furnished by the hotel. His stare lingered on my legs, since the robe only hit me mid thigh.

“I uhm… yeah… we have a minibar.” He lifted his glass to and shook it at me. “Are you naked under there?”

I sat next to him and reached for his glass, took a sip and grimaced as it burned down my throat. “I don’t see how people drink that stuff straight,” I choked out.

“You get used to it,” he said, his eyes smiling at me over the glass as he sipped. “Answer me.”

“Yes, I’m naked under here.”

He leaned over, trying to peek down the V that formed where each side of the robe crossed over. “Let me see.”

I pushed him back, giggling. “You know what I look like, naked. I’m gonna get dressed in a bit. What did Darren say?”

“Not in town, but there’s a couple of parties tonight. Stay right there.” He kicked his feet up so he was sitting up again and moved closer, right up against me, dropped an arm around my shoulder and tipped his head to the side. Teeth nipped lightly at my neck, working down and across my shoulder. “Just a minute…” he said, muffled against my skin.

“I’m all clean, and you’re gonna get your vodka breath all over me.”

I might have been protesting – not very hard—with my mouth but my body kind of wanted to see where he was going. And maybe go along. I was warm and getting warmer, a flash igniting in the pit of my stomach and crawling up. His lips were so soft and kind of cold, against the warmth of my skin. My eyes slid closed and I was close, so close to just giving in, leaning back and letting our evening take this fork in the road.

“Be careful,” I said, trying to sound stern and ominous. “We won’t make it out of this room, tonight.”

“That…” He reached for the tie to the robe and pulled it loose, then slid his hand into the opening and across my bare belly. “…would be fine with me.” He leaned into me, his lips landing on my chest, laying light, airy kisses across, and then down and back up to my neck.

The robe was pushed down, baring my shoulders and pinning my arms to my sides. I shrugged out of it and let my hands explore him, sliding up his arms and across his shoulders and around to one of my favorite spots—his back. I leaned back against the armrest of the couch. He took advantage of the extra room and more access and made me squeal when his mouth closed over a nipple, taut and straining upward, reaching for him. He flicked and teased it, groaning, sending shockwaves through my body. I shuddered in response, clutching handfuls of his hair with one hand and clawing his back through his shirt with the other.

“We really might not make it out,” he whispered, rolling his eyes up at me just before taking the other nipple into his mouth. I melted against the couch, trying hard to keep my eyes open.

“I don’t care…” I heaved and writhed beneath him. I didn’t care if we never went out, ever again, at that point. I just didn’t want him to stop.

“Then we should move to the bed. We’re too old for couches.”

I sat up, grabbed a hand and his drink and crossed the room to the bed. “Agreed. Get naked.” I set his drink down and climbed up onto the bed, momentarily distracted by how comfortable it was. “This bed is ridiculous. Come feel this.”

“It’s not the bed I want to feel,” he said, his smile deliciously evil. Slowly, so incredibly slowly, he crawled up the bed, toward me. I backed up against the headboard with a smile and giggled uncontrollably as he finally reached me and inched his lips down to mine.

He moaned as our tongues intertwined in a slow, lazy kiss. I slid down the bed until I was lying down, wrapping my arms around him and bringing him down on top of me.  My legs wrapped around him as soon as I felt his weight on me. His hips were already moving, pressing himself against me.

The kiss had turned hot and frantic, impatient and wild. I shuddered as a wave of goose bumps raced across my skin. He whimpered and pulled at his clothes, kicking out of his jeans and breaking the kiss just long enough to pull his t-shirt over his head.

“I want you,” I said, breathing hard, reaching for him. A few seconds without his lips on me was like torture. I wanted him back there.

“Not as bad as I want you.” In a flash he was back. His mouth occupied mine again, his hands were wild again, squeezing and rubbing and gliding along my skin.

“Please don’t tease me,” I begged. Screw pride. I needed it and didn't want to have to fight for it. “Let’s just do it, okay?”

“Honey, I don’t think I could hold out if I tried. One second.” He started to sit up and pull away, but I grabbed him by the neck and held him.

“Don’t. It’s fine. Don’t.”

For a few seconds he was still. My mind raced with guesses as to what he was thinking. My plan to avoid ruining the mood by not stopping to put a condom on might have backfired.

“You don’t want me to—“

“Just this once, I don’t. Okay?”

He shrugged and grinned down at me, then lowered himself again. “I wasn’t the one that insisted on it all the time.”

“I know. But I don’t want to stop.” I tightened my limbs around him and raised my hips under him. “Now. Please.”

His chest barreled with a deep breath and then, in a mad rush of sexual energy, he was inside. It was my turn to exhale with relief and elation and erotic thrill, moving my hips to meet his as the speed and force of his movements rose.

“Shit, that’s the good stuff.” That was all I managed to get out, between heaving breaths and satisfied moans.

“Fuck yeah, it’s good,” he grunted, hovering above me, his gasps for air matching the rhythm of his hips. “You’re going for best tonight, aren’t you?”

I smiled up at him, my hands crawling down his body to a perfectly formed cheek. I squeezed, my nails digging lightly into his skin. “Guilty,” I breathed, lifting my brows, giving him a little push of encouragement.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. I watched his eyes go dark and his face twitch with concentration on long, strong, driving strokes, pushing the both of us closer and closer to climax. He sank even lower onto me, panting hot breath into my neck. His moans began to match his thrusts, rising in volume and speed, skin slapping against skin so hard it stung. I matched him move for move, moan for moan. The headboard joined in, a thumpthumpthumpthump beating against the wall. Sounds of sex filled the air, sounds I loved so much that hearing them pushed me so close to the brink I could scream. And then I think I did.

“OH MY GOD! FUCK! YES!”

I heard it, loud and clear. It wasn’t even a yelp, or a cry, or a moan. It was a loud, strangled scream. I didn’t realize it came from me until I was convulsing and clenching and uttering something unintelligible, an intense pulsing violently ripping its way through me.

“Shit, was it good, baby?” JC laughed, still working. He hummed, the vibration against my neck extending the spread of warmth all the way down my back, making my toes curl, and my hips convulse and my body clench again. “That must feel so fucking good on your end, ‘cause it feels amazing to me.”

I laughed, basking in the glow, not wanting the wave to subside—at least not before he joined me. “Are you close? Can I help you?”

“You’re helping. Almost there… almost there… almost…”

He moved hard and fast, his breathing staggered, eyes clamped shut, a bead of sweat dripping off the end of his nose. His eyes popped open, suddenly, and he moved up a little, covered my mouth with his and kissed me, his tongue dancing with mine as he stiffened and then convulsed. It was the most intimate, erotic thing, ever… like he was sharing his orgasm with me. His moans were deep and sensuous as the kiss slowed from a wild, passionate lip lock to a slow, romantic one. His hips slowed, and then stopped, and then he laid down on me fully, his hands wandering along my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps and shivers in their wake.

The kiss ended a leisurely few minutes later with a long, satisfied exhale. His head came to rest in the crook of my shoulder and my neck, his lips moving every once in awhile to nibble at my skin.

For a few minutes, I had no words. And then all I could say was, “Oh my God. That was… incredible.”

“Mmmhmm,” he agreed, a proud smile on his lips, lifting himself up and listing to the side. He landed next to me and stretched out on his back. “This bed is comfortable!”

I rolled my head so I could see him, so I could watch him come down from a sex high. He was grinning. So I was I. With a little effort, he flipped to his side, cupped my chin and leaned forward until our lips met. “You’re definitely, you know, in the running for the Best. I have some other entries I’m considering…”

Loud giggles bubbled up out of me. I reached over to him with two fingers, looking for an inch to pinch. He blocked my hands, laughing, until I gave up. “You’re mean,” I sighed, pressing myself up against him. “I was almost going to apologize for nearly killing you early today. Now I’m not.”

“You didn’t nearly kill me. You were right to yell at me about that. Everything you should have been doing, you were doing it. That guy was just a cocky asshole driver and we managed to avoid him. If something happened, it wouldn’t have been your fault. But nothing happened. We’re okay. Right?”

I nodded and held onto him tighter. "I’m so happy nothing happened. Even when we fight all day, we’re so good. I don’t know what I would do if…” JC shook his head, laid a finger over my lips, then replaced his finger with his lips.

“Don’t say it. Just… don’t even say it. It’s over, nothing happened, we’re okay.”

He sat up, stretching and popping limbs as he did so. I watched him, knowing full well he knew I was watching him. “You still feel like going out?

I yanked a pillow out from under my head and tossed it at him. He ducked in time to miss it, throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “You let me get all sweaty? If I’d known you still wanted to go out, I’d have made you wait.”

“I know,” he said, laughing. “I am evil. Come on.” He stood, headed for the bathroom. “I’ll help you get all clean again. We’ll go out, for a little bit. Get fucked up.”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” I grumbled, rolling off of the bed and toward the bathroom. Again.

“I know. I’m very lucky you love me.”