With a satisfied smile, she stretches languidly as her toes point and her arms stretch overhead, wrists crossing instinctively as if bound.
"Don't move."
From the foot of the bed, he slowly pulls the sheets, exposing her body.
He silently appraises the marks on the canvas of her flesh. From the faint bruises on her wrists to the light purple love bites on the creamy softness of her breasts, to the blue thumbprints left by his powerful hands on the rounded swell of her hips.
In the morning light…
He, the artist, drinks in the colors of her... his masterpiece.
© Copyright 2003, Dani Benjamin. All rights reserved.
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