MeltMe

Melt Me

Calista Fox

Book 2 in the Body Scenes series.

Trendy columnist Yvette has wanted Finn for years. The
feeling is mutual, but Finn, a renowned artist, has yet to let pleasure come
before business. He wants Yvette to model for a series of paintings for his
next showing at the exclusive nightclub and naughty art gallery, Body Scenes. Unfortunately,
the perfect theme hasn’t materialized in his usually creative mind. That is,
until a heat wave hits Manhattan and the idea of hot, slick, naked body parts
causes inspiration to strike.

Armed with custom ice sculptures, Finn turns a steamy photo
shoot into a wet and wicked affair to remember!

Chapter One

Yvette Samson stripped her curve-hugging Roberto Cavalli
dress from her body before the door to her contemporary, midtown condominium
even closed behind her. Wearing nothing but a black lace bra, matching
boy-short panties and her four-inch stilettos, she walked into her bedroom and
tossed the dress over the back of the armchair in the far corner. She crossed
to the bed and threw back the crimson-colored duvet, then dragged the satin top
sheet off the mattress.

Carrying the sheet into the living room, she draped it
haphazardly over the enormous, high-backed sofa that served as the centerpiece
of the artistically decorated room. Next, she retrieved a tall, oscillating fan
from the hall closet, plugged it in, positioned it to blow on the sofa and
cranked it to high. She stood in front of the stream of air for several
minutes, letting the wind tunnel she’d created cool her hot, dewy skin. The
quick change in temperature tightened her nipples behind the lacy cups of her
bra. The breeze from the fan on the moist crotch of her panties was as
stimulating as fingers brushing over the sensitive spot, a whisper of a touch
along her pussy lips.

The fine layer of perspiration that covered her chest and
belly felt less sticky and oppressive as it chilled with the light gust coming
her way. Making her skin tingle. She would have turned the air conditioner on,
but with all the humidity and rain of late, the built-up condensation had
killed the motor. The part was on order, leaving Yvette without air
conditioning for the weekend.

The association that maintained the building had informed
her the temperature inside her condo was still within a range deemed
“appropriate” according to their written bylaws. Therefore, her lack of cool
air was not currently subject to their involvement in expediting the repair.
She was
this close
to checking into a hotel, but couldn’t fully justify
it when the air conditioning units in the condos surrounding hers helped to
keep the building from burning up. In fact, the hallway was downright chilly
from the central unit. A Godsend during this massive heat wave that had hit
Manhattan following the unexpected rains.

She poured a glass of freezer-chilled vodka from the wet bar
and downed a healthy gulp. The frigid liquid helped to cool her insides a bit.
She set the glass on the tall end table next to the sofa, went out into the
foyer and propped the door open. Just enough so she could leave the security
chain in place. The brisk breeze from the hall was welcome, but it’d take
awhile to bring the temperature in her condo down a couple degrees.

Perhaps a cold shower was a better alternative to the fan,
but she suspected the respite would be fleeting. She’d need another one five
minutes later, so what was the point?

Instead, she retrieved a spray bottle from under the kitchen
sink, filled it with cold water and returned to the living room. She flipped on
the CD player, already loaded with sexy jazz tunes, and then sank onto the
plush sofa. She’d covered it with the satin sheet, knowing the lightweight,
slippery material would be a hell of a lot cooler than the velvet.

Finally feeling the relief from her efforts, she reached for
her cocktail and sipped it as she spritzed herself with water, the air from the
fan turning the mist chilly. She leaned back against the rolled arm of the sofa
and spread her long, blonde hair over it, letting the air and the spray of
water cool her neck.

She’d just finished her first glass of vodka, certain her
internal temperature was no longer in the triple-digit range, when the doorman
rang her, announcing Finn Griffith’s unexpected visit. Perking Yvette up
considerably.

“Send him up!” she said into the phone receiver she’d left
on the coffee table.

Finn was a renowned artist who was also devilishly handsome.
A bit broody, as most creative geniuses were, yet definitely a tall, dark and
hunky fantasy come to life. She wondered what had brought him by this evening.

A thrill of anticipation shimmied down her spine at the
possibilities that ran rampant through her mind.

Climbing off the sofa, she refreshed her beverage and poured
one for Finn. Leaving the cocktails on the smoky glass-top of the wet bar, she
strolled to the foyer, just as she heard the elevator ding. She unhooked the
security chain and pulled the door open just enough to peek up and down the
hallway to ensure her neighbors weren’t out and about. Seeing only Finn, she
yanked the door open and filled the doorway with her nearly naked body as she
propped a hip against the frame.

Finn drew up short, staring at her, a wicked grin on his
perfectly sculpted face and lust flashing in his melted-chocolate brown eyes.

“Jesus,” he said. “You could give a grown man wet dreams.”

She smiled. “How sweet of you to say.”

“Do you always answer the door in your underwear and high
heels?”

“When my air conditioner is on the fritz in the dead of
summer…yes.”

Finn whistled under his breath. “You look gorgeous, as
always.” He gave her a kiss on both cheeks, then took her in from head to toe
one more time, making her breath catch and her clit tingle. Finn had a way of
devouring her with his eyes that made her want to strip down to nothing and let
him feast on her.

“Looks like my timing is perfect,” he said. “I come bearing
a gift you’re going to want.”

“Please,” she said in a teasing voice as she crossed her
arms over her chest. “Dicks are a dime a dozen in this town. And it’s too hot
to fuck anyway.”

He chuckled. “You may change your mind about that when you
see what I brought for you.”

She’d noticed he pulled an enormous cooler-on-wheels behind
him. Her attention shifted to it.

“They let you into the elevator with that monstrosity?”

“The appropriate question is, how the hell did it fit?”

She stepped out of the way, pulling the door fully open so
Finn and his traveling ice chest could enter the condo.

“Whatever you’ve got in mind,” she said as she closed the
door behind him and followed him into the living room, “must involve something
that’s going to cool us off.”

Finn shot another sexy, wicked grin over his shoulder. “Or
steam the place up.” He winked at her.

Yvette felt that familiar flash of heat and desire Finn
sparked so easily. He was sexy in an edgy way that suggested he knew how to
fuck a girl until she was fully sated. Yet could instantly have her begging for
more, because she really couldn’t get enough of him. He had obsidian-colored
hair that was always a bit tousled, like he ran his hands through it in
contemplation while he worked. Or he’d just tumbled out of bed after a quick
romp. His eyes were warm and inviting. His smile was wickedly delicious. And
his body…. Tall, muscular and downright tempting!

They had yet to do the dirty deed, despite years of
flirting. Both she and Finn were workaholics, with little time for romance and
dating. Finn was consumed by his art, which included traditional paintings on
canvas, as well as amazingly creative body art on nude models.

His human murals were on display once a month at Body Scenes,
an exclusive nightclub and high-end art gallery that was strictly
invitation-only. Yvette had taken her newly divorced friend, Annabelle, to one
of Finn’s showings at the beginning of the summer. Finn had been minus a female
model for one of his masterpieces and Annabelle had agreed to let Finn paint
her. It’d been an erotic mural. Three men and one woman. Cocks filling
Annabelle in an arousing way that had made Yvette a tad disappointed she hadn’t
been in her friend’s place.

But Yvette had yet to acquiesce to Finn’s dozens of requests
to let him paint her. She’d been waiting for that one special idea, that flash
of inspiration that would capture her in a unique way. For Yvette, body paint
wasn’t it.

Not that she didn’t find the pieces brilliant. She just
wanted something different. Something that portrayed her true spirit, the
essence of who she really was. Perhaps it was an intentional challenge she’d
issued for Finn.

As she watched him now, moving with stealthy fluidity that
screamed cocksure arrogance and bad-boy wickedness, anticipation of exciting
things to come—hopefully her!—zinged through her. He dragged her coffee table
farther away from the sofa and carefully placed his shoulder bag on it. Quickly
removing two cameras, he outfitted both of them, then played around with the
lighting in the room before using the digital single lens reflex camera to take
several test shots.

Yvette’s curiosity mounted. What
was
he up to?

Finally, he grabbed her by the hand and directed her to the
sofa, where she sat still while he took more test shots with the DSLR. When he
stepped back and viewed the shots on the miniature screen on the camera, he
nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.

Yvette said, “If you tell me I look like a whale on film,
I’m going to kick your sorry ass right out of my condo.”

He lifted his gaze and grinned. “Live solely off fast food
for a year and then you might have a problem.” He eyed her body in a slow,
appreciative way, his eyes lingering on her breasts, the tops of which spilled
out of her demi bra. “Trust me, you’re a knockout, doll. The problem is the
lighting. Not exactly optimal, but this photo shoot is just so you don’t have
to pose for hours on end.”

“That’s good news. You know I have the attention span of a
gnat. Plus, I’ve got three columns and six blogs due this week.” She’d carved
out a nice little niche for herself both in print and on the Internet as an
avant-garde art and food expert. Another reason she and Finn had likely never
hooked up. She was too busy playing Queen of the Mountain, with an endless
stream of competition trying to knock her off the top.

“Despite the lighting, this room will do nicely,” he
commented as he eyed the sofa with the cream-colored sheet draped sloppily over
it, creating ripples of satin amidst a sea of purple velvet. “Your setup is
perfect.”

“Just trying to chill out,” she said. Dying to know what was
in the ice chest, she added, “What, exactly, do you have in mind for this
evening and what makes you think I’m going to go along with it?”

Finn set aside his camera. He plunged his hands in the front
pockets of his black-as-night jeans and gave her a coy smile, his dark brows
lifting suggestively. “Because you like being naughty.”

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as excitement shot
through her again. Her nipples were already hard. They seemed to get harder.
Tightening in an almost unbearable way. Drawing her attention to them, along
with their need to be rolled between his fingers and thumbs. Suckled in his
mouth. Flicked by his tongue. Scraped gently by his teeth.

A prickle of arousal danced along her clit as she lifted her
gaze and asked, “You really think you know what I like?”

“Oh yeah.” He kept his hands in his pockets. Didn’t move an
inch. Just eyed her with a sinfully hot look that made her pulse jump. “I was
sitting at home the other day, trying to sketch out a new body art mural, but
all I could think about was you. Sweaty and slick from this ridiculous heat
wave we’re having. And then it hit me. The perfect thing to cool you down while
heating up my canvases.”

She squirmed a little on the plump cushion, her arousal
making her a bit uncomfortable. In a good way, of course. Anticipation mingled
with a need that had been burning bright for years, since the first day she’d
met Finn Griffith. Would it finally be sated tonight?

Yvette said, “If this involves putting my clothes back on,
you can forget it.”

He laughed. “No, doll. I need you just like that.”

“Hmm. Fortuitous.”

“You said it. Now here’s what I’m thinking. Four scenes—I’ve
already figured out the poses for each one. I know you used to model so this
should be a breeze for you.”

“It’s been awhile, Finn,” she said, not exactly thrilled to
admit she was thirty-one, not twenty-one. Even if she was only admitting it to
herself.

He scoffed. “I’ve watched you in the club, Yvette. You’re a
natural. You probably pose in your sleep.”

She couldn’t argue with that one. It was likely true. “So
what’s in it for me? You get a model and more artwork to sell at Body Scenes.
What do I get out of this?” She knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn’t
settle for anything less. Not tonight.

She wanted Finn. Finally stripping down with her. Touching
her naked body with his mouth and hands. Sliding his thick cock into her wet
cunt, thrusting deep, fucking her hard.

It was all she could do to keep from begging for it.

She’d only been teasing when she’d claimed dicks were a dime
a dozen in this town. In her opinion, there weren’t any attached to such a
devilishly handsome man. And she no longer considered it too hot to fuck. She
had no qualms about steaming up the windows with Finn! Had to fan herself with
her hand, in fact, as her cheeks flushed at how badly she wanted it. Wanted
him
.

He said, “Given your current predicament, how about I put
you up at the Ritz Carlton ’til your cooler is fixed? You can turn the air on
so high, you’ll need to light a fire in the fireplace to take off the chill.
Unlimited champagne, strawberries and room service. Knock your socks off,
babe.”

A tempting offer. But Yvette could afford all of that on her
own. “Hardly incentive.”

Finn grinned. “I’ll be there with you.” His brows lifted
again as he said, “With a box of condoms.”

“
Oh
,” she said on a lusty sigh. “That’s a horse of a
different color.”

“Tired of us pussy-footing around,” he said, looking as
uncomfortable as she felt. All because of the sizzling chemistry they shared,
which they had yet to act upon. “I’ve become the poster child for blue balls
because of you.”