by Wendi Zwaduk
He shook his head. “I won’t be able to paint you without taking photos.”
“You won’t?”
“May I photograph you?” he asked. “I want picture references to work from when you aren’t able to model for me. That way you can hold the pose forever because it’s in the photo. The images won’t be seen by anyone but me, unless you allow me to show them.”
What did she have to lose? She was already playing with fire. “Sure.” She crawled onto the bed and allowed him to drape the sheet around her. Her skin heated. She wanted him to touch her. To declare he wanted to make love to her.
The front of his boxer briefs tented. She longed to stroke him. She had no experience with me and yearned to explore his body.
He cleared his throat. “Holy shit.” He picked up the camera. “This usually isn’t difficult.”
“Because I’m not what you bargained for?” She refused to back down. “I’m adorable.”
“Whoa.” He knelt next to the bed, then laced his fingers with her and kissed her hand. “No, sweetheart. It’s hard because I’m not usually this attracted to my models and struggling to conceal my erection.” He smiled. “You’re gorgeous.”
“I am?” Would he kiss her now? Should she kiss him?
“You are,” he murmured. “I’ve got a hundred ideas. Keep looking at me like that and this will be magic.” He stood and adjusted the sheet. “Look at me like you’re just waking up after sex. You’re tousled, sexy and happy.”
She had no idea how to do what he’d asked, but she tried to watch him with hunger. She wished she could sleep with him. She’d never been with anyone.
He snapped photos and moved around her. His erection seemed bigger and strained against his underwear as he inched back. “Now look toward the window.”
The late-day sun warmed her face. Her nipples beaded again. She pressed her knees together. Christ. She craved him, his touch, his hungry gaze on her body, his loving words… He turned her on. The more she stared out of the window, the more she hated being a virgin. Who was still a virgin at twenty-one? She wanted to be alluring and worldly. To experience life and know pleasure.
“What’s wrong?” He put the camera down and grabbed his sketchbook. “You look sad. Was it something I said?”
“Nothing.” She couldn’t tell him the truth—not yet. She needed to know he liked her without the title. “What got you into art?”
He settled on a small bench that looked like a backward seat and propped the drawing board against the upright portion. He tugged a bowl of chalks over to the bench. “I’ve always enjoyed putting chalk and pencil to paper. I liked doing little sketches for my friends and people realized I could mimic cartoon characters well. One of my teachers steered me to art class and when I sold my first piece, a fired clay mask, I decided to get serious.” As he spoke, he alternated between looking at her and the board. “What about you?”
“I went to a museum and wanted to know about one of the pieces, but no one could tell me anything,” she said. “I think the curator was out. “It was a Madonna and Child and I wondered why the little boy looked so sad. I wanted to learn the history of the piece and the frame of mind of the artist.”
“Did you ever find out?” he asked and kept drawing.
“No. No one knew anything about it.” She glanced over at him. He’d smudged chalk across his cheek. His hair slipped over his brow and as he tensed, his muscles defined. God, he looked sexy. Did he have any idea how much he affected her? She focused on answering his question, instead of ogling him. “I never did find out, so I decided to learn as much as I could about art. That way if I’m ever asked about a painting, maybe I can answer that person’s questions.”
He met her gaze. “Sounds like a good reason to me. I wonder sometimes what the artist is thinking when they make certain pieces. Like what inspired them to go blue or have a red period? It’s not always clear and with the Old Masters, there isn’t any information on their mindset.”
“Exactly. Why paint that woman that way?” she mused. “Was the model really that snobby? Or was she shy? Was the child ornery or behaved, but making them look like trouble worked better for the overall work? I guess I’m nosy.” She chuckled to herself. “I’ve been told I ask too many questions and want too many answers.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He frowned, then tipped his head.
She wished she knew what he was thinking. Every time he frowned, she wanted to fix her pose. The sheet slipped, revealing most of the upper swell of her breasts. “How long have you been in college? How old are you?”
“I’m in my fifth year,” he said and resumed drawing. “I’m twenty-two.” He grinned without looking up at her. “I never asked your age. I guess I should’ve.”
“Twenty-one. I’ll be twenty-two in December.” She toyed with the sheet. “Where are you from?”
“Where did I grow up, you mean?”
“Yeah.” If she’d been asked last week if she’d be comfortable having a conversation in the nude, she would’ve been embarrassed. Now, their chatter seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He was easy to talk to, whether she wore clothes or not.
“I’m from the middle of Ohio. A little town called Crestline. Nothing happens there.” He brushed his hair back from his face and smeared more chalk, this time on his temple. “My mom died when I was sixteen. A drunk driver missed a stop sign and plowed into her car.” He paused. “My dad never quite got over her dying and he drank himself to death.”
She gasped, not at the severity of his story or the situation, but that he was alone.
“Silly, huh? Drunk driver killed her and he allowed drink to take his life, too.” Luke resumed drawing. “I’ve never told anyone about that. Then again, no one has ever asked.”
“About them?”
He nodded. “I hate talking about my past, but you’re easy to talk to.” He sighed and dropped the chalk into the container. “It’s not done, but what do you think?” He turned the board around, revealing the drawing.
She stared at his rendering. He’d captured her, but something more than just her. She looked beautiful. He’d added the sadness in her eyes and a leisured quality to her pose. She looked relaxed like she might have just finished having sex. “It’s…wow.”
“You’re the wow.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “Let’s look at the photos. If there are any things you don’t like or don’t want me to keep, say so.”
“Is this going to be all you need from me?” She wasn’t ready to be done for the afternoon. Dark out already.
“This is only the first session.” He sat beside her on the bed and turned the camera around. “I took twenty-five images at least.” He pointed to the little screen. “I wanted to capture the details.”
“You did.” She barely recognized herself—thoroughly fucked and at ease. Instead, she was wound tight.
“Do you approve?” He elbowed her. “Or are you the girl who hates to look at herself?”
“I approve,” she said. “And I’m not wild about looking at me.” She touched his arm. The vulnerability within her overwhelmed her and she longed to break free from her good girl image. “They’re lovely. Will they help your painting?”
“They will.” He put the camera down and toyed with her hair. “You make concentrating hard.”
“I do?” The sheet slipped, fully baring her breasts. She shifted enough to sit up. If he wanted to look at her, then why not give him the full show?
“You do.” He bridged the gap between them and feathered his mouth over hers.
She whimpered. She grasped his shoulder and scooted onto his lap. Every nerve ending and synapse shifted into high alert. She needed him. Her nipples brushed against his bare chest. Electricity shot through her body. Her pussy creamed and she ground on the bulge in his underwear. She opened to him, allowing him to suck on her tongue.
Luke splayed his hands on her back, cradling her in his embrace. She’d never felt so cherished in her life. She
straddled him, needing to feel every inch of him. His cock thrummed through the fabric of his boxer briefs and the sheet and she wished the barriers were gone. Being with him was dangerous and riding the wave of pleasure was sinful, but she didn’t care.
He palmed her breast and flicked her nipple. She wrenched her mouth free and whimpered. “Oh my God.”
Luke opened his eyes. “Zara.” He stopped touching her.
“Right here.” She wriggled on his lap. “Why did you quit?” She panted. “Luke?”
“We shouldn’t do this.” He held on to her hands. “We should stop.”
“Why?” Her hair slid in her eyes and she couldn’t shake her confusion. What had she done wrong? “Did I mess this up?”
“No.” He kissed her again. “I don’t sleep with my models and I’m so close to breaking my own rule.”
“Oh.” She bit back her embarrassment. She’d thought they had a connection. “I’m sorry.” Where were her clothes? She shifted to leave his lap, but he held on to her.
“Don’t be sorry.” He kissed her knuckles. “You’re too adorable to ignore. I have rules for a reason, but you’re not just a model to me. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but it feels like a lifetime.”
“It does?” He didn’t know much about her—like her being a princess. If she told him that now, he’d dump her in seconds. Then again, if she found out that he knew the truth, she’d bolt.
“You stoke my muse.” He pressed her hands to his mouth. “I can’t just capture your image. I want all of you and you’re not mine to have.”
“Why?”
“You deserve better than me. I’m just an artist. I’m a mutt. No one exciting and you’re beautiful. You probably have men vying for your attention all the time.”
They weren’t, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “I don’t want anyone else.” She might as well put her heart on the line. “I want you.”
Chapter Six
Luke tamped down his excitement. She wanted him. Holy fucking hell, he had everything he’d ever wanted in a woman in his arms, yet he kept pushing her away. He was in college to paint and draw…to create photographs, not sleep with his models. He should be capturing their likeness and spirit, not trying to capture her heart.
Besides, things were happening so fast.
But he didn’t care. His parents had fallen in love in a matter of days and had been inseparable until his mother had died. The same thing could happen to him. Zara could be his destiny.
She kissed him and toyed with the hairs at the base of his skull. The warmth and softness of her body turned his senses inside out. He’d never met anyone like her.
A phone rang and he didn’t recognize the tone. He frowned, ripped from his sensual haze. She tensed and her eyes widened. “That’s mine,” she said. “Sorry.”
He wanted to tell her to ignore it. Why did anyone have to interrupt their moment?
She yanked the sheet around her and left his lap. She tugged the phone from her bag. A crown decorated the phone cover. The crystals sparkled as she fiddled with the device.
He’d seen plenty of covers and plenty of bling on phones, but he never would’ve pegged her as a princess type of girl. She struck him as more down-to-earth. Maybe she thought herself a queen…like a queen of her own domain. She’d taken the top spot in his heart rather quickly, too.
While she talked on the phone, he swiped through the images on his camera. He could use many of the images for a series. Hell, he’d only have to do minor fixes and they’d be ready for display. She seemed to know how he wanted her to pose and how to react to the camera. He admired her beauty, the light and creaminess of her skin and the sparkle in her eyes. Even when she was supposed to look less than perfect, she embodied alluring to him. He’d have to pose her again and couldn’t wait for the next sitting.
She tossed the phone into her bag. “That was Corinne.”
“Everything okay?” He abandoned the camera on the table. “You look worried.”
She clutched the sheet and stared at him. “I need to tell you something.”
“You’ve got a boyfriend?” He should’ve guessed. At least he hadn’t slept with her.
“No.” She scrunched her nose. “Unless you’re volunteering.”
He reached for her and tugged her onto his lap. She didn’t have a boyfriend. Thank God. He’d become rather fond of her. “Do you want me to be?”
“I do.” She smoothed her palms over his shoulders. The sheet sagged, keeping her modesty intact, but showing off a great deal of her bust. “I like you and I want to be your girl.”
He shouldn’t date her because she was his model. If things went south, his art would suffer. But he’d never been this drawn to anyone before. If she wanted to be with him, then he wasn’t going to push her away any longer.
She placed her finger over his mouth. “Before you answer, I need you to listen to me.”
He nodded. She had his full attention. “Talk to me,” he said around her fingers.
“I need to be honest with you. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend. This is all new and I don’t know what I’m doing—that’s why I’m so clumsy at this.”
Was that all? “You’re just fine. Everyone needs to start somewhere,” he said. “Just tell me why.”
“I haven’t been permitted to date.”
Interesting. “Corinne? Won’t she let you? She seems rather protective.” And a bit pushy.
“She’s part of the reason.” The sheet slid down farther and he doubted she realized how much of her upper body she showed off. She toyed with a wisp of his chest hair. “The guys I have been expected to date aren’t anyone I wanted to be with. They’re either older or not someone I like or someone good for me.”
He frowned. “Expected? I don’t understand. Why is anyone trying to decide who you should be with? That’s your choice.” Even if she didn’t end up choosing him, it wasn’t for him to argue.
“I’m a virgin.” She paled. “You don’t like that, do you?”
“Zara.” He let her words wash over him. A virgin. No wonder she had no experience. She hadn’t been with anyone. Part of him relished the idea of being her first, but part of him worried he wouldn’t be enough.
She fumbled off his lap and yanked the sheet around her body. “I knew it’d be bad. I knew I shouldn’t say anything.”
He paused. The conversation wasn’t one he’d prefer to have in the nearly nude, but they’d have to talk eventually. He stood, then captured her in his embrace. “Wait.”
Wildness and panic filled her eyes, but she didn’t fight him. “You don’t understand. I like you and I want to be with you, but I’m not like those other girls you’ve been with. I’m not good at this.” She struggled in his arms. “I’ll mess it up and you’ll get tired of my fumbling.”
“Stop.” He tucked her to his chest until she stopped fighting him. If it took the rest of his life, he’d make her understand that fumbling and not knowing what to do wasn’t bad. Hell, everyone had to learn sometime. He loosened his embrace enough to tip her gaze and force her to look him in the eye. “I don’t know what your sister said and I’m not sure why you’re worried about me not wanting you. No one comes into this life knowing exactly what to do in love. It’s a mystery and we’re all making a mess of it until we find the right person. I’m honored you like me enough to want to explore with me. We’ll go at your pace. All you have to do is tell me what you want and we’ll go there. I want to be with you. I want to photograph and paint you.” He kissed her. He wanted to spend his time with her and even could see them growing old together. He’d never had those thoughts with other women, but she was different. “You make me happy and my muse sing.”
“Even if I’m a princess?”
“Even if.” She hadn’t struck him as the princess-y type, but he wasn’t going to argue.
“I want to be with you.”
“I want you, too.”
“You’ll teach me?”
&nb
sp; He wanted to be her only teacher and lover. “I will, but I have a request.”
Her hands trembled. “Okay?”
“Just me.” He settled on the bed with her on his lap. “If you’re with me, then we’re a couple. I don’t want to share. Not in my bed, not in my relationships and not with my models. I’ll teach you, I’ll cherish you and you’ve got all of me in return.”
“That’s exactly what I want. You.” She kissed him and let go of the sheet.
He moaned, consumed by her and with her. She was such a precious woman. So beautiful. He stretched out beneath her and allowed her to explore him, his skin tingling from her touch. His nipples pebbled and blood surged to his cock. He threaded his fingers in her hair as she feathered kisses over his chest.
She moved back to his chin and up to his mouth, then sucked on his tongue and caressed his pecs. The sheet slipped free, giving him complete feel of her skin on his. Being with her was so intimate and perfect. She ground on him and heat from her body seared him. As she writhed, she situated his dick between her legs.
He wanted to slow down, but the need within him overwhelmed him. He rolled them over, pinning her naked form beneath his.
She panted. “Make love to me.” She slid her arms around his neck. “Need you.”
“We have to go slow.” He braced himself of his knees and slid one hand between her legs. So wet. He caressed her clit.
She whimpered. “Luke.”
He liked her responsiveness. She came alive for him, not only in his bed but before his camera. He nipped her throat and continued to stroke the tender bud of her clit. She writhed and bucked beneath him. When he added a bit of pressure, she dug her nails into his shoulders.
He kissed his way to her breasts and sucked one nipple into his mouth. She tensed, then bucked again. Her liquid excitement increased and he eased one digit into her body. Christ, she was tight. He couldn’t wait to sink into her body and make them one soul, moving together.
“Need you,” she managed again. She tensed and squeezed her legs around him. “Please?”
