Honestly, I was less than thrilled with the idea of Brayden modeling for me, but if my preliminary work is anything to go off, this project will turn out exceptionally well. He’s the perfect specimen. His body is flawless with thighs that are thick and powerful. There’s a smattering of dark hair sprinkled across his body. And his ass...
I’m tempted to run my fingers across the firm flesh to see if it’s as taut as it appears.
Do I actually give in to the urge?
Hell, no.
That would be begging for trouble.
With Brayden’s back to me, I’m able to look my fill as my fingers fly across the thick paper. It doesn’t take long to lose myself in the familiar strokes of charcoal until an illustration takes shape. It’s only when I notice the slant of the sun outside my bedroom window that I become aware of how much time has passed.
I rise to my feet and walk around to the front again, flipping from the fifth drawing back to the first. My gaze drifts over him, taking in every minute detail until arriving at his cock. Even in repose, it’s long and thick. The length is curved, nestled against dark curls. He really is gorgeous.
Artistically speaking, of course.
My fingers still as my gaze lingers, drinking in the sight of him. The man really should be sculpted and displayed in a museum to be admired. I almost lose myself in his masculine form. The lines and ridges that bisect his body. It’s only when his cock stirs, stiffening up, that my wide gaze jerks to his. Air gets wedged in my throat as my mouth turns cottony.
With a smirk, he shrugs. “There’s only so much I can take of you eating me up with your eyes.”
If I was expecting an apology or even a hint of embarrassment, I don’t get it.
Quite the opposite.
Nudity has never embarrassed me, but it does with Brayden. Which makes no sense. I’m not the one who’s standing around in his birthday suit. And yet...my entire body feels flushed and achy.
“That’s not what I was doing,” I mumble, because yeah, that’s exactly what I was doing.
Hell, I’m still doing it.
Brayden Kendricks is magnificent, and I was totally ogling him. But there’s no way I’ll admit that. The guy is cocky enough without me adding to his swollen head.
Either of them, as the case might be.
Heat slams into my cheeks as I swing away and move toward the desk to set my materials down. The more distance between us, the better off I’ll be. “You can get dressed now. We’re done for today.”
Hopefully, by the time I turn around, he’ll be fully clothed and ready to take off.
“Sydney.” His voice drops, becoming low and gravelly. It strums something deep inside I’d rather not acknowledge. Or inspect too closely. I’m afraid of what I’ll find.
My nerves ratchet up with every creak of the floorboards. By the time his hands settle on my shoulders, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. He’s so close that I can feel the heat of his larger frame against my backside. His warm breath ghosts over my ear and an unwelcome shiver scampers down my spine. Arousal explodes in the pit of my belly before settling in my core.
No.
No.
No.
Brayden is the last guy on Earth I want to feel this way about. I hate that he can affect me so easily. I want to feel nothing where he’s concerned. I want to be stone cold. Instead, I’m ready to melt into a puddle at his bare feet. It’s demoralizing.
His fingers curl around the tops of my shoulders before drawing me close enough for my back to align with the rigid lines of his chest. Lines that I studied and practically committed to memory as I brought them to life on the page.
Instead of breaking free of his embrace and scrambling away, my feet become rooted in place. I’m incapable of movement. The brute male strength that radiates from him in powerful waves is heady and intoxicating. My eyelids feather closed, and I feel myself falling. Tumbling into a dark abyss.
“Sydney,” he growls again, fingertips burning my flesh as they skim down my arms. The way he bites out my name has liquid heat gathering between my thighs. The echo of it leaves me breathless and hungry with need. Whatever is about to happen, I no longer have the strength of will to fight against it.
I’m ripped from those dangerous thoughts when my bedroom door flies open and Demi screeches to a halt over the threshold. “Hey, I was—”
Her eyes go wide as her voice abruptly falls off. “Oh! I’m...ah...sorry! I didn’t realize...”
I’m sure my expression mirrors the stunned one she’s wearing. I shake my head. Violent little movements that leave me feeling dizzy. “No, we’re not—”