Life in Paintings

Chapter 37 - The Desperate Man

Chapter 37 – The Desperate Man

I know exactly where I am when I appear in the next painting, without having to open my eyes.

The smell is engraved in my mind. I think that if I ever smell it again once this curse ends, I'll crumble in tears.

I open my eyes.

Gustave is looking at me, standing a few feet from me.

I'm back. I'm really back. He brought me back again. I didn't know you could feel joy and pain of this level at the same time before.

I want to say his name, I want to tell him that I love him, I want to do something, anything, but I can't move.

Gustave doesn't have that problem. He says, "I'm so sorry about this, but stop me if you don't want to," and he walks right up to me, grabs the back of my head and crushes his lips against mine.

I stumble back, surprised by his kiss. My back hits the door.

Yeah, I'm not stopping him.

I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him closer to me.

I think Gustave might not have been sure on how I was going to react to him kissing me, and the fact that I'm not pushing away makes all his worries disappear as his body melts against mine.

He keeps a hand behind my head, his fingers brushing through my hair while his other hand wraps around my body keeping me close.

I'm sandwiched between his body and the door.

I want to wrap my whole body around him.

He's kissing me like he thinks I might disappear in any seconds because I might. I could. I have no idea what kissing Gustave will do.

Because this is true love's kiss.

It's ridiculous. It doesn't make sense. It's impossible.

But it's true.

The moment his lips touched mine I knew.

This is true love's kiss.

This is how it's supposed to feel when you kiss someone and you truly love them.

Also, he's a tremendous kisser. His lips move with confidence, coaxing mine to move in a feverish rhythm.

I wonder where he learned to kiss like this.

My hand is in his brown hair that falls at his shoulder. I squeeze him even tighter against me.

I think I'm crying. I'm pretty sure tears are falling down my cheeks. I don't know if it's because I'm sad or happy or a mix of both.

Our kissing slows down, his lavishing lips nipping gently at mine.

            We stop kissing. Gustave's forehead is pressed against mine.

            I open my eyes. I wasn't the only one crying.

"Hi," I say, looking in his warm brown eyes.

"Hi," he answers, smiling back at me, his hands caressing my cheeks.

I smile a little, keeping my hands pressed delicately around his jaw. "So, what do you know, the fire of Saint John's Eve really did help the witch to get to the right place."

Gustave frowns with a smile, confused by what I just said, "What?"

"My last painting," I say, like that explains everything.