Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series by Donna McDonald

you know .”
    Brooke uncrossed her arms as she finished and threw up both hands. That was all the apology she could manage.
    Drake snorted. “ You know …?” Cognac-fueled laughter sneaked past his filters. “You’re kidding me. The daughter of a woman who makes glass vaginas calls it… you know ?”
    Then he remembered Michael’s TMI bragging about his stupendous sex life with Carrie and Shane’s orgasmic drawings of Reesa hung on display at the gallery. Will carved penises and breasts with mesmerizing accuracy of detail. Yet here Brooke was…the daughter of a glass vagina artist…not even able to verbally attach the word sex to what happened between them.
    His uncontrollable laughter over Brooke’s prudishness was from the gut when he finally dissolved. Drake set the empty glass on the floor when his shaking threatened to eject the few remaining ice cubes. He laughed and laughed about his bad luck in having seduced the most uptight female he’d ever known until the amusement finally ebbed away. But the smile that lingered on his face might end up staying there until he sobered.
    Brooke was damn lucky he hadn’t stayed with her earlier. He would have been an education in sex she obviously wasn’t ready yet to have.
    “Was being with me so bad that you can’t even say the words?” he demanded.
    “We cannot have this conversation tonight. You’re drunk,” Brooke accused.
    “Yes—yes I am,” Drake admitted, laughing and weaving as he stood. “And thank God for cognac. I don’t think I could handle arguing with you again so soon without the crutch. But I’m up now and standing to face you, Dr. Daniels. So say what you need to say to me to appease your conscience…and then leave. Although I think you’re going to be wasting your breath saying more. You already made the only point that matters when you brought up your intentions about sleeping with the guy I chased off…oh, and basically any others that might come along who can meet your basic need. I’m sure you’ll get to be in control next time…when you get to choose the time, place, etc. Just chalk me up as a fluke, and you can be on your merry way.”
    Brooke shook back her hair and told herself to be calm. Getting angry over Drake’s snarkiness was not going to accomplish anything. But then she couldn’t let all his insults just roll by either.
    “Boy, scratch your surface and you’re just a bitchy guy underneath all that calm, aren’t you?”
    “Yes. I am. It’s called having passion…not that you’d recognize it…since you have such a low opinion of the expression of that trait. Well, too bad for you if my emotional depths are not pretty…or logical. You got a taste of the best of my passionate nature earlier—when I got a taste of you—and yes, you were more outstanding than I dreamed. Too bad you aren’t interested. I’ve stored up a lot of passion in all the years I’ve waited to feel again like you make me feel.”
    “Stop, Drake…just stop…talking like that,” Brooke ordered, throwing up a hand.
    Now she was shaking. Why was she shaking? Drake wasn’t serious. He was just spouting drunken nonsense.
    “I never said I wasn’t interested in you. I never said you weren’t…outstanding…too. I just…look Drake…I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who gets to ogle naked breasts any time he wants. This is not an unreasonable female limitation, not that I expect you to hear what I’m saying tonight. I refuse to debate my feelings with a drunken artist on an ego trip who can’t see anything past his own egotistical nose right now.”
    Drake walked a little closer and leaned down. “Why are you suddenly shorter?” He leaned back and looked down at her feet. “Oh…flats. Good choice for stability. Wish I had some on. Are you finished being logical yet?”
    Brooke rolled her eyes at his weaving demand and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Shit…I don’t know…I guess I am.”
    She put