by Kenya Wright
Gorgeous.
She smiled. “You must be quite a lady’s man back in NY.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Every time you look at me I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.”
I trailed my thumb along the outline of her book, wishing my fingers were touching her skin. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She curved her sexy lips into a smile. “Yes, you’re definitely a lady’s man. Do you have miles of women waiting to give you their heart?”
“No, but I’m never alone unless I want to be.”
“Interesting. And you want to be alone?”
“Not in this moment.” I inhaled her sweet fragrance. “Are you following me?”
“I haven’t taken up stalking yet.” She gestured to a shelf near us. “I have to buy a book for my sister. I burned one of her copies on the beach the night I met you.”
“I remember.”
“I promised to get her a new one.” She grabbed a big novel and waved it at me. “See. I’m not following you.”
“Too bad. I was hoping you were stalking me.”
“Nope. However, you’re definitely stalking me.” Yaz grabbed her book from my hands and placed it back on the shelf. “You don’t need to buy this. I’ll send you a copy of this book, when I go back to LA.”
Worry hit me. “When are you going back?”
“No time soon, but eventually I should go back.”
“Why?”
She thought about my question and then shook her head. “Yeah...I don’t know why. Maybe I don’t need to go back. It’s just my life... oh never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
I took her book back off the shelf. There was no way I was leaving without it. She glared at me as it sat in my hands.
“LA is a big place,” I said. “Could you see yourself back here in Key West living the sleepy life?”
“Yeah. I can. I actually love the slow pace and the beach breeze.” She reached for her book. “I said I will give you a copy.”
I moved the book out of her reach. “I want to read it now.”
Her expression went neutral.
“What?” I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t want me to read it?”
“It would be weird.”
I fake frowned, dramatizing sadness. “You never spend any time with me. Maybe if you visited I wouldn’t need to find something to read.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it. I’ve seen women going in and out of your house this past week. Half-naked and very loud women, by the way. I thought you had higher standards, Mr. Hawk.”
“Jealous?”
“Of course not. Why would I be?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Why would you be?”
She grinned. “Just my humble opinion.”
“My brother brought them around, so I could get inspired to paint them.”
“Were you inspired?”
“No. I had no time for them.”
She smiled. “Too bad.”
“Yeah. You look really sad about that.” I placed her book behind me. “I want you to model for me.”
A nervous laugh left her lips. “I thought we settled that I’m a punk ass when it comes to getting naked.”
“Since when, Cherry Bomb? You don’t take chances anymore? Have some fun.” I slipped my gaze along her body.
She had a slim waist and an hour glass shape. She wasn’t slender like a dancer. There were curves on that beautifully shaped body. She had lush hips and thick thighs that made me want to explore her. Already, I’d begun drawing her naked in my mind, tracing the lines of her curves, wondering how magical she would appear on my canvas.
“Once you model for me and see how beautiful I view you, you’ll wonder why you took so long.” I gripped her book tighter. “You’re captivating.”
Her face looked shocked as she murmured, “Thank you.”
“Model for me.”
She sighed.
“You’ve been thinking about saying yes? Right?” I hoped it was true. “How about this? You won’t be completely nude, but you would have a small amount of clothes. Your skin is so beautiful. I want to paint it as much as possible.”
“I’ve never modeled for anyone before.”
“Good. Then, you’ll have even more fun.”
She bit her bottom lip and then said, “Define a small amount of clothes.”
My heart grew excited.
“It’s just laying down in a pose with something flattering draped over you. We can pick a comfortable position and how much you’re covered.” I tried something else. “Listen. It would be one thing if I just needed any woman to pose for me. But this is different. Since seeing you again, I’ve had this urge to paint you. I haven’t had this feeling in years.”
She quirked her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm.” For whatever reason, that got her attention. “So, you were stuck? You had a painter’s form of writer’s block?”
“Exactly.”
She shifted her weight to her other foot.
“You can’t overthink this, Yaz. You just should go for it. Where’s the girl with the crazy afro, that made me sneak out of my house in the middle of the night to chase mermaids?”
She giggled. “We almost caught one, until Cindy found us.”
I leaned forward. “Remember when we used to skinny-dip?”
“Yes, it was the first time I’d ever seen an erection. It was only two seconds, before you ran away.”
“Low blow, Yaz. It was my first time having one.”
“You were so embarrassed you wouldn’t come out for a week.”
“I wasn’t like you as a kid. You would tear off your clothes and run in the water. I was big. I wasn’t comfortable with my body and... being around you naked.”
“Hmmm. And now I’m the uncomfortable one and you’re Mr. Confident.”
“Yes, and modeling for me will bring back that confidence that you should already have because trust me, Yaz, you have nothing to be nervous about.”
She blew out a long breath. “Okay. I’ll model for you without exposing my whole body. That’s cool?”
“Yes.”
“What will we cover me in?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something.”
At that statement, dirty visions twisted in my head. I studied her some more, imagining her playing a major role in my nasty visions. My length stiffened in my pants and I had to calm myself down.
She disrupted my thoughts. “What would be the time commitment?”
“At least three sessions, each lasting three hours. If that’s too much, I can change it. We could start tomorrow.”
She tapped her finger against the shelf next to her. “That sounds good. What should I bring?”
“All you need to bring is yourself. No makeup or jewelry. I just want you in your natural state. Exquisite and intoxicating.”
She widened her eyes.
“Painting is only a hobby,” I continued, “but I take it seriously. It keeps my mind clear. Trust me. There will be nothing but respect.”
“Okay.”
“And it’s not like I’ve never seen you naked.”
“Must you keep reminding me?”
I licked his lips. “I’m hoping I can remind you enough, so you’ll be comfortable again to tear off your clothes like you used to.”
“Things are different now.”
“How?” I held out my hands. “Back in the day, I was a cool kid that you could be yourself around. You didn’t worry about your body or my hurting you.”
“I just wanted to have fun and swim.”
“But now the games have changed?” I leaned my head to the side. “I’m not the cool kid anymore, I’m a sex God?”
She giggled. “Focus, Hawk. Do you want me to pose for you or do you want to skinny-dip?”
“Both.”
“Well, I’m only agreeing to posing.”
; “And I’ll take that for now.” I extended my hand. “Thank you, Yaz. I can’t wait.”
She shook my hand and warmth shot from her fingertips.
Damn.
I licked my lips and walked off with the book.
She called after me, “Bring my book back over here.”
“No way. New York Times said it was a great beach read.”
“They did not.”
“Well, I’m saying it.” I headed to the cashier and left her behind me. Anticipation bubbled all through my body. It had been a long time since I’d been excited about tomorrow. Usually, my head remained drowning in morbid yesterdays.
Chapter 5
Yasmine
Only Hawk could have me rummaging through my closet early in the morning.
The yummy aroma of fresh Johnnycakes rose to the attic. Other islanders called them hoe cakes. Either way, they were these firm slabs of cornmeal that were sweet and light in color like cornbread. When I was a kid, my mother told me that people used to call them journey cakes because they were portable and resisted spoiling. Nowadays, most used them to sop up sauces and gravies. I loved a big stack of them with coffee and covered in butter and jam.
I’ll just look a little bit more, before snatching up some cakes.
My stomach growled. I should’ve rushed down to grab a few, before the guests beat me to it, but I had other things on my mind.
Last night, I hadn’t slept much.
The couple I’d seen in the moonlight nights ago were back on the beach. This time the blonde woman was happy with the dark-haired man. They played and laughed, twirling around in the ocean. At one moment, they shed their clothes and dove into the dark waters, making love for a good hour.
I might’ve watched the whole time and wished I was them.
When the couple left, I couldn’t help but think about Hawk and me. It was foolish to think of us in that way, but still the thoughts came. And then the unnecessary insecurities. I told myself that I was just modeling for him and nothing more.
But still, stress kept me up. If I wasn’t worried about what I would wear, I became nervous about what we would talk about. We’d played as kids. I’d spent the night over at his house once, when his dad let us camp outside to watch a meteor show. He’d ate at my house for one Thanksgiving. I’d ate at his for another.
I shouldn’t have been a wreck.
I hope he doesn’t realize how one of my eyes are bigger than the other.
Cindy swore they were the same size. But each time I glanced in the mirror, I saw the truth. How could anyone else not see? The left clearly outsized the right.
I look like a freaking alien and he’s got this crazy notion to put it all on canvas.
But I couldn’t ignore the fact that things had changed. Hawkins—the funny kid next door with every comic book that ever existed—had now turned into a towering, muscular man.
An image of him naked and hard came to mind. I bet muscle covered every part of him, even that behind. It sure looked rock hard when he walked away from me in the bookstore. I’d wanted to bite his ass. And I wasn’t that type of girl.
Biting ass was not my specialty.
But for his ass...I’d lick. I’d bite. Munch. Rub. Chomp. Squeeze and hump.
No male had ever incited so much craziness inside of me.
My phone buzzed. I checked the screen.
Greg: Yasmine, please, talk to me. I swear I can explain everything.
I shut the phone off and returned to rummaging in my closet. After an hour, I settled on a sundress. It had this soft, flowery material that flowed around my body in just the right ways. I’d always received compliments with this one. I wished I had something better to wear, but funds were low and fashion sense took a back seat to keeping my bills paid while I lounged in the Keys.
For the past years, I’d been a struggling writer in LA. During the day, I worked as a waitress. At night, I typed away scenes that aroused readers. Writing and waiting tables had kept my head above water. It took me five years to quit the waitressing job and be able to write full-time. Still, royalties were unpredictable. Some months, money rained down and I felt rich. Other times, my royalties resembled a no man’s land of poverty and depression.
The book industry was a crowded circus, full of writers trying to outperform each other and climb to the top. I was determined to be a literary legend by staying true to my passion for words.
Lately, I hadn’t been able to write anything. I was just blocked due to my heartbreak.
I hope this works out and thank God, I won’t be naked.
Last night, I attempted to write, stumbling over one scene for hours. I got nowhere and ended up describing my hero with the same physical characteristics as Hawk.
I need to get my head in the game.
I’d read that bestselling authors always made sure to have amazing lives. It helped them come up with great books. Many writers claimed that one must risk it all for their art. Go outside. Breathe in the energy flowing around us. Touch the sun. Kiss the earth. Make love to the sky.
Fuck a spell. I need to be out here living, not moping around and sad over Greg.
Modeling for Hawk would be the perfect thing to get be back to writing.
After Greg, I knew what I didn’t want. At least heartbreak helped in that way. It told me exactly what I didn’t need in my life and forced me to consider new possibilities. I realized that I didn’t want to be somebody’s sad wife, sitting alone in a dark home. I wanted to be the type of a woman who saw the world—riding a helicopter over a volcano, driving a jeep during an African safari, surfing on exotic waves, and meditating with monks in ancient hills. I wanted a life that filled a captivating memoir. Something that changed a generation.
I laughed at myself.
I want all this crazy stuff, yet the thought of posing naked for Hawk scares the shit out of me.
Most of my anxiety came from insecurity.
Would I be enough? Would he change his mind? Why would I ever agree to this?
Hawk had that rich man air about him. I bet back in LA he dated women that spent hours planning their clothes and getting doted on in some high-end spa. I was not one of those women.
Stop thinking about that. He just wants you to model. Nothing else.
Nervousness delivered butterflies through my body the whole morning. By the time I had to head over to Hawk’s house, I was a bundle of jumbled nerves. My heart hammered in my chest. My palms sweated.
No big deal. Just pose and relax.
I had to throw all my insecurities in the trash. If Hawk had a problem with my body or face, he wouldn’t have asked me so many times.
It’ll be fine.
I walked over to Hawk’s impressive family house. Some would argue that the Barron property was a mini-mansion. Like my sister’s bed and breakfast, it had four levels. A lush green landscape surrounded the place—all manicured and glowing in the sun. Four sports cars sat in the driveway.
Okay. He’s much more successful than I thought.
It took everything in me to knock on his door. When I did, Vera showed me in. She was a small woman that had worked with Hawk’s family as long as I knew him. Now, she looked older with more wrinkles and a slow pace to her step. Her shoulder-length hair was more silver than blond. Deeper lines had forged into the skin around her brown eyes, and fine lines had formed around her lips.
“Is that you, Yaz?” Vera asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh my God.” She pulled me into a long hug. “You look so beautiful. I knew you would. I see you still dye your hair red. I always loved it. Do you remember that day when Cindy flipped out on you for dying your hair?”
“Of course. It was the first time I’d ever done it. I still have nightmares about it.” I smiled as I left her embrace. “Thanks for hiding me while she calmed down.”
“When you dyed your hair red, she thought it was the beginning of some punk rock thing and that you’d be blue or purple the next
week.” Vera shrugged. “Not that it matters.”
“No, but yeah. I love red. I haven’t considered any other color since.”
Vera shook her head as she looked me up and down. “No wonder Hawkins asked me to come over this week to prepare the house. Usually when the boys are visiting, they let me off, so they can have their debaucheries in private.”
“I bet they party hard.”
“They do, and they’re nice enough to hire a cleaning crew to hide the evidence before I return.” She gestured for me to come in. “How’s your family?”
“They’re doing good.” I stepped inside. A dazzling chandelier hung within the circular foyer, and everything from the walls to the floor looked expensive.
“I don’t go over to see your sister enough,” Vera said behind me. “What do you think of the house’s new look?”
“This is elegant.”
She walked by and led me further ahead. “Hawkins put a lot of money into remodeling.”
“I see.” I followed her. “Are the guys keeping you busy?”
“No, not enough. They’re much tidier than when they were kids. I’m actually keeping busy with that new little site—Netflix. Oh, the shows you can watch. Do you ever look at it?”
“I have been known to binge watch some shows on Netflix.”
“I don’t understand how people leave their houses anymore. It’s so much to see online.”
“Yes. The crime shows on there are a secret addiction of mine.”
“I’m a fan of the foreign films.” She guided me toward this huge marble staircase that wound upward into a spiral. Someone had carved flowers into the center of each step. The railing was black and gold. It curved and twisted into these pretty vines with blooming metal flowers on them.
“I’m glad you’re going to let Hawkins paint you. He’s such a talented artist.” She showed me into a bedroom. “Had he focused on art, instead of business and media, he might’ve been the world’s greatest painter.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” I climbed the stairs. “Does his mother come visit much?”
