A/N: Apologies for the delay in this. Blame J.R. Ward, a stationary bike, a possible romantic interest and my lack of … er, inspiration to write this. Don't worry. I would never abandon a story.

The Inspiration

Chapter 7: Ch-Ch-Changes

Edward

Okay, I admit it. She caught me. Red-fucking-handed. Or maybe the better term is red-fucking-eyed. But come on! Her tits? Were simply perfect and I'm pretty sure they were putting some kind of spell on me. I've seen a ton of tits in my time as a painter of nude women and hers were probably the best ones I'd ever seen. I couldn't help myself with them just there … in front of me … looking so … delicious. Who was I to blame?

But yeah. I'm a pig. I'm a guy with a dick that seriously needed attention by the time Bella was done with me.

And more importantly when I got home from my afternoon staring at Bella's books, I could barely contain myself. I immediately went from walking to wanking. Dear sweet baby Jesus. I thought I was going to rub myself raw even with the help of a trusty bottle of lube.

Four good handjobs later in bed, I ran out of tissues at my bedside before I crawled my sorry ass into the shower so I didn't have to throw my sheets away from how much spunk was spewing from Mt. Splashmore.

When I finally collapsed into my bed (which smelled a little too much like one-sided sex) I was satisfied and satiated.

I can't say I didn't feel a little bad for objectifying her that way, using her for visual and mental fuel for my own twisted fantasies about her. I may have been zoned out on her amazing chest, but despite all other indicators I did pay attention to what she was saying.

And here's the thing.

What she was saying about my work was possibly the best thing I'd ever heard about my work in my short yet fruitful career. I've heard plenty of both empty and honest compliments. Most I took to heart and enjoyed, but there was just something in particular about the ones she gave me that lit a special place in my heart like a fucking pussy.

Bella seemed so genuine in everything she said. I couldn't ever picture her saying anything disingenuous. I couldn't picture a lie ever passing those perfect, pouty lips of hers.

I woke up the next morning with two feelings. The first being hard morning wood that demanded attention. Sadly the previous night's …. activities had left me a bit on the sore side. Rather than attend to The Dude's needs, I let a cold shower and thoughts of sumo wrestling take care of them for me. Nothing like a fat man in a thong to deflate the downstairs extra fast.

The second feeling I woke up with was one of anxiousness. I was anxious to see Bella again. Anxious to be around her. Anxious to hear her speak again. Anxious to see what came out of her mouth today. Anxious to feel her body's warmth and lean into her.

And fuck if I was anxious to know what she tasted like. What face she made when she came and if she liked being on top or underneath. Need I remind you of my dude status? So of course those things were there. I couldn't help them. The hard part was keeping them in check. Well, the hard part was technically The Dude, but that's neither here nor there. That's merely a given being around Bella.

My trip to the museum seemed shorter that morning and my steps lighter. Every one brought me closer to Couch Girl … brought me closer to Bella. The thought was not all together unpleasant to say the least.

Some new girl was at the front desk instead of Bea and I made a mental note to compare tomorrow. Bea may have been one of the most strong-willed women I'd ever met, but she was still quite old and the thought something could have happened to her worried me.

Jerry was already there like usual when I came sauntering up to my gallery. He gave me the typical man nod, tipping his chin up in my direction.

"So Jerry, Bella here yet?" I asked casually, trying to sound interested and yet detached at the same time.

Jerry gave me a funny look before breaking into a knowing smile.

"You like her," he said with his secret smile and a twinkle in his eye. He'd made the statement, rather than asking me the question.

I sputtered and backtracked, trying to cover myself for some reason I couldn't understand. My head shook side to side and I waved my hands about in agreement.

Jerry laughed and said, "Relax, Edward. I'm not going to rat you out to the pretty girl but I am gonna ask you to treat her right. She's a special one. Something about her that is so sweet and innocent. She reminds me of my girl at that age."

She might be sweet and innocent, but she's got tits that ain't saying that, The Dude reminded me. I bet if you got her under you, that sweet act would fly right out the proverbial window.

I silenced The Dude's lewd thoughts with a mental shove and tried to do my best to lock him away for now. Plenty of time enough for his comments while I had my cock in my hand … later. Much later. After I got a day's worth of fodder for the solo sexing.

I sheepishly nodded at Jerry, indicating that I would keep that promise to him as best I could.

His eyes darted from mine and I sensed another person behind me.

Play it cool, man. No need to get all pussed out for this girl even if you do wanna hear her talk all freaking day like a wuss.

Seriously, sometimes the thing between my legs could be such a fucking drag.

"Hey," the soft voice from behind me said. Much to my dismay, the mere sound of her voice started to get me hard.

Today was going to be a damn log day if she wanted to talk the entire time. Eight hours of sitting with a hard on would be like eight days at this rate.

I turned around and was once again reminded of just how beautiful Bella was. She was wearing some kind of navy blue turtleneck sweater, probably in response to yesterday's tit show. The artist in me couldn't help but admire how well the color reacted with the undertones in her skin.

The man in me wanted to peel said sweater right off.

Her rich brown eyes made my mind reach to come up with the right combination of oil paints I would need to mix to reproduce the shade. Mentally doing the mixing, I came up with a combination of equal parts Brown Ochre and Burnt Carmine, with a dash of Transparent Oxide Brown. Bella's skin tone though … that would take some time to mix properly. And her shade of blush would take longer still.

She smiled gently at me and brought me out of my paint mixing thoughts.

"Want to head in?" she asked sweetly.

Okaaaaay, so the sweet Bella was back today. What had happened to the temptress who hypnotized me with her great tits yesterday? I made it my goal to see that side of her again today. As much as I liked sweet innocence, the temptress sides of women were so much more fun to see and play with.

I followed Bella into my gallery, a few steps behind her so I could take a good look at her ass I'll admit. Which, of course, was perfect. I was beginning to wonder if there was a part of her that wasn't perfect, though the chance of that was rather slim … much like her hips I might add.

The morning passed in much the same manner as the previous day's afternoon went, but this time my eyes weren't blatantly attached to Bella's chest. I will admit to a sly glance every now and then when I couldn't stand it any more though.

Mostly, I just listened. I watched as her mouth carefully formed each word, as her brow's furrowed when she was trying to figured out how to explain something in her mind, or as her hands waved animatedly around in the air. I noticed she had a nervous habit of playing with her hair when there was the occasional awkward pause, tucking it behind her ear or running her fingers through the ends that hung over her shoulders.

People came and went around us in the gallery, though thankfully none of them recognized me. There wasn't many pictures of me out there in the media about the up and coming painter EC, and I liked it that way. The adulation was only so good for so long. Fuck, I loved being a private person and preferred walking down the street in peace to walking down the street being mobbed. I couldn't understand how those movie stars lived their life like that, always constantly in the spotlight. But maybe that's the difference between artists and actors. What artists produce was something of their own hands and minds. Actors actually put themselves out there as the product.

What hung on the white walls around Bella and me in the gallery was products of my own hands. Hours upon hours carefully spent scrutinizing the lighting, shading and coloring of my subjects. Replicating those facets of a subject's personality I wished to highlight while minimizing those I wished to hide.

After awhile Bella took out a small notebook and made a few notes in it, and I gave her peace to do whatever work she was doing. I leaned back into the small couch, savoring what was probably the first time in awhile I actually felt … peaceful.

Sitting there in the small, intimate space with her didn't make me want to get up and run. Her body so close to mine had a calming effect on me. While a part of me still wanted to throw her down on that very couch and take her, the larger part of me was really having a good time just talking to her.

She tucked her notebook back into her bag and fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her hair falling down in a curtain around her face.

I didn't even notice when my hand reached up to brush it back.

My fingers grazed her cheek and the only thought in my head was so soft.

Bella sighed quietly, almost too quiet to hear if it wasn't for the almost near silence of the museum around us.

"So," she said and looked up at me through long burgundy eyelashes.

Unfortunately The Dude chose that moment to picture her looking up at me through the very same eyelashes under vastly different circumstances.

Fuck, not now. Everything is going so damn well.

I carefully repositioned myself on the couch, desperately trying to not give away the fact my dick was getting carried away.

"So," I squeaked out, probably giving myself away.

A faint blush crossed her cheeks and I caught a hint of a knowing smile on her lips.

Oh fuck, lips.

Not helping, dammit!

"So what do you do anyway?" Bella asked and popped her head up to look me square in the eye.

I could see the edges of sex kitten Bella begin to come back to her and it certainly didn't ease my current predicament at all. She pushed her chest out a bit and I bit back a moan, remembering her catching me openly staring yesterday in the process.

Must. Not. Attach. To. Nipples.

"Do you work?" she said again, reminding me there was a brain attached to those tits.

"Oh, yeah. Work. I … uh … I'm in art," I stammered and tried to cover my ass.

"That makes sense considering you're here and all, but what do you do 'in art?'" she continued.

My mind did flips trying to come up with an explanation.

"So Bella, look around. All this art of naked chicks you like so much? Yeah, that was me. That one there? That's Tatiana. I fucked her on the couch she's posing on after we were done."

Yeah, no. Not exactly what the response she was probably looking for. Problem was, I had no other answer than to lie.

"I dabble. You know, a little of this here, a little of that there. I do a lot of … uh, gallery stuff," I said, flying by the seat of my pants.

Bella's smile faltered a bit, turning somewhat into a frown.

"Vague enough?" she asked with narrowing eyes.

Quick, buddy! Cover your fucking ass!

"Yeah, well. Art's kind of one of those areas. Talk to anybody else in this industry and they'll probably give you a similar answer. Us art folk wear a lot of hats. Personally, I like those old man ones that look like golfing hats. Totally old school throwback style," I laughed at myself.

Fucking word vomit, douchebag. Spectacular. Really.

She shrugged a bit, seeming to be appeased by that answer.

"Personally, I'm a sombrero kind of girl," she chuckled.

The image of Bella in a huge sequined sombrero passed through my mind and I couldn't help but join her laughter. The picture was just too fucking funny.

"Really?" I grinned.

"No, stupid. I'm just giving you shit," she laughed and her eyes flashed with enjoyment.

"So what do you do then since you asked me? I mean, I think you do something with writing, but what?" I asked in return to her question.

Bella grinned at me and waved her wrist in a dismissive manner.

"Oh you know … I dabble mostly," she said and laughed.

Her laughter was contagious and before long we were pretty much whooping it up with full bellied laughs. Jerry leaned his head in the glass door and shhh-ed us with a menacing looking smile.

Bella covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to contain a few lingering chuckles that were still coming. I leaned back against the couch.

And it hit me then.

It felt good to laugh like this. To laugh with her.

I was by no means an uptight guy, but for most of my life I'd heard variations on "let loose", "live a little" or "chill out." Art was everything to me and I took all facets of it very seriously. Problem was, those facets pretty much were in all parts of my life. There really wasn't anywhere I could go to escape from the seriousness that was my art.

When I woke up in the morning, the canvases were there in the corner of my loft to remind me of paintings still undone. Pretty much everything I owned smelled like turpentine or oil pants from the open air apartment.

The most I usually "let loose" was downing a shit ton of liquor and passing out on my couch. Well, that and the occasional good fuck, but those were coming farther and farther apart these days.

That wasn't because I didn't have an endless stream of willing partners thanks to a charming personality and great smile, but it was more of a … well, it just wasn't satisfying any more. Honestly, I didn't know how guys kept it up. The constant manwhoring.

Let's be honest. We're not all that bright. We like three things. Food. Sleep. Sex. In any combination and variation. But the problem with that was somewhere along the line, the proportions of that had gotten out of whack for me.

And life was about balance. Or it should be at least.

"Earth to Edward…" Bella said and waved her hand in front of my face.

My unfocused eyes drifted up and refocused on her face.

"Hey," I said lazily.

"Where'd you go just then? You kinda zoned out while I was talking about Chicago winters," she said and her eyes searched my face.

"Oh shit. Sorry. I got lost thinking about something," I replied in a rush.

She smiled softly at me, a different smile than I'd seen her make since I'd been … er, watching her.

"I do that sometimes. Kind of the curse of being a writer. Care to share with the class or not?" she asked, her eyes falling to her fumbling hands in her lap.

Did I want to share? Did I want to share how everytime I fucked a new girl now I was terrified I'd get her name wrong? How my life was not exactly fulfilling even though I was a successful artist with a fucking Art Institute gallery exhibit for godsakes? How I just wanted to get away from the constant push to create, to paint, to bring in money? How I hadn't really even painted in … shit, weeks now?

Yeah, those are probably things I shouldn't be dumping on her right now.

Maybe later …

Wait. Later?

Bella sighed a little and I realized she was still waiting for me to say something.

Problem was, all I wanted to do in that moment was touch her.

And being the jerk I was in large part, I couldn't hold back.

I reached out my hand, trailing the back of my fingers down her jaw. Her eyelids closed a bit and I watched as her lashes fluttered from my touch. Her head leaned a bit into my hand, almost as if she wanted more. I turned my hand around and this time ran the pads of my fingers across the other side of her jaw. She sighed again, but this time it was more of a happy sigh I think.

When I got to Bella's chin, I cupped her jaw and felt the softness and warmth of her skin.

My dick twitched in my pants, responding against my will. In one of the few moments like this in my life, I actually just wanted to enjoy being with her. To hear that laugh of hers and see her eyes shine. Catch the sideways sultry looks and know she wanted to be there with me just as much as I wanted to be there with her.

Jerry's words from earlier in the day rang through my head.

"You like her."

I wasn't sure I wanted to deny it any more.

We'd spent, what, maybe fifteen hours tops together and I couldn't deny his words any more.

I liked her.

I really did.

My heart was beating strongly in my chest and I worried that Bella could hear it. The thing was practically a fucking bass drum in the quiet stillness of the gallery. Listen any harder and I'm sure she could hear my damn cock getting hard too.

That's what Bella did to me. Thinking about her. Wondering about her. Wanting to be around her. Actually being around her. Listening to her talk. Hearing her sigh those soft little happy sighs. Learning her quirky mannerisms. Seeing her scribble in that notebook of hers.

I took a quick look around the gallery, and Jerry was pointing to his watch through the glass.

It was my turn to sigh this time. Bella's eyes flickered open and they were wide as they took me in.

"What?" she asked breathily.

"I think we have to go. Looks like Jerry's giving me the stink eye from outside," I lamented. Yeah, I actually lamented leaving today.

Bella blinked a few times and I could have sworn she was trying to wake herself out of a daze. Or at least that's what it looked like she was doing. She grabbed her bag and I stood up, offering her my hand to help her up.

She smiled at my outstretched hand and grabbed for it.

Fuck, even her fingers were beautiful.

And there in that moment, I made it my mission in life to get her naked. Not so I could fuck her, though that would be oh-so-enjoyable, but so I could paint her.

I wanted to immortalize what I saw in front of me. Those big brown eyes and creamy skin with an apple cheeked glow lit from inside. The soft ringlets of her hair and sloping neck. Her high cheekbones and slightly clefted chin.

That light I saw inside of her when she ranted and raved about art. The passion she showed for explaining things. The personality I'd only seem the tip of. The intelligence that impressed the hell out of me already.

All of those things and so much more.

And I wanted to do it the right way. I didn't want to be some jerk who smooth talked his way into her what I'm sure were sexy as hell underwear. I could already tell that this girl deserved more than that.

I wanted to deliver.

For the briefest second the thought that she'd already begun to captivate me crossed my mind and for an even briefer second that thought scared me.

I liked being me. How I did things was great. I didn't want to … well, change.

But in a lot of ways, right then I wanted to be someone else. I wanted to be someone who was worthy of Bella. I knew so damn little about her and yet I wanted to be worthy of her. I wanted to be worthy enough that she felt safe and comfortable enough with me to let me paint her. To let me see that vulnerable side every woman had when they took off their clothes and posed. They thought I saw their imperfections.

What I saw was female beauty.

Here … this girl … this Bella … she had more of it than any woman I'd ever painted before.

And not just because of her physical beauty.

I had a sense that there were so many more things about Bella that were beautiful than just her appearance, as fucking hot as that was.

I'd seen a little of it in our short time already.

As we made our way out of the museum and into the crisp fall Chicago air, we exchanged awkward pleasantries about the weather and sports neither of us were really interested in. We talked about the museum a bit.

I felt like both of us were leaving something unsaid though. There was something I wanted to say, something she wanted to say and wasn't saying. I longed to be able to hear her thoughts, to know what was going on in that head of hers at the moment. She looked so far away as we walked through the streets, business commuters and suited people of all ages and colors all around us.

"Bella?" I finally said, halting my steps.

She stopped too, looking up at me from beneath those lashes of hers again.

"Yeah?" she said softly.

"I really liked being around you today."

It was as honest as I could get without giving away everything I actually wanted to say.

She smiled at me, that soft smile that made her eyes glimmer a bit.

"I liked being around you, Edward," she answered me.

"Tomorrow then?" I asked, not wanting to draw it out any longer. I wasn't sure what to say and sure as hell wasn't sure my damn cock (that had been demanding attention for hours now mind you) could take much longer.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I'm this way," I said, thumbing my way towards a street.

She nodded her head in the opposite direction. "I'm that way."

We stood there for a second. It seemed neither of us wanted to leave the other in that moment.

And then I did it.

I leaned into her, my hand reaching up to cup her cheek. She looked up at me with searching eyes. "Edward?" she said softly.

I wasn't sure I was going to do it before she said my name, but hearing it solidified what I'd considered doing.

I brought my face down to hers and could feel her warm breath against my lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and I thought I heard her breath hitch for a moment.

Brushing my lips across hers, I marveled at how soft they were. Everything about her was soft.

Very easily I could have pushed for more. I could have thrust my tongue in her mouth and claimed her. Could have run my fingers through her hair. Could have pushed my body in line with hers, letting her feel how hard she'd gotten me all day.

That's what the Edward of a few hours ago would have done.

This new Edward though, the one who was looking to be worthy, he took the hardest option of all of them.

I pulled my face back from hers and ran the pad of my thumb across her cheek.

"See you tomorrow," I said quietly.

Stepping away from her in that moment was possibly the most difficult thing I'd ever done. And no, I wasn't being a drama queen or exaggerating in any way by saying that.

I'd known her for such a short amount of time.

Sure, I'd been … stalking her … for awhile.

But actually knowing her, talking to her, hell just being around her was so much better.

I took a few steps back from her and the crowd of people around us seemed to swallow us both up. People converged on all sides and I was forced to keep going backward.

I kept my eyes on Bella for as long as I could.

When her eyes finally opened up again, I about came in my damn pants.

She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.

"Bella, you're unlike anybody I've ever met," I whispered to myself as my words got lost in the sounds of the city all around me.

Turning around, I headed off back to my apartment with heavy steps that only took me further away from perfection.