Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club 4)

I pulled out my phone and did as asked while he continued to draw. His strokes shortening and his hand moved rapidly, filling in the detail on the tree that was forming on the page. The zoo pictures loaded on my screen, but his sketching was distracting. I’d always found people with artistic talent intriguing, probably because my artistic ability amounted to exactly zero.

He had beautiful, skilled hands and I wanted them on my body. I’d had the one and his palm had sizzled against my skin. Imagine what two would do. I swallowed hard.

The drawing was abandoned when Silas noticed the images queued up on my phone. He took it, located whatever he was looking for, and studied the picture intently. Like a match had been struck, the page in his notebook was turned to a new one, the phone set on the desk, and his pen began again, this time at a frantic pace.

He wasn’t going to finish what he was working on? “What are you drawing now?”

There was no answer, and this drawing was smaller, so I couldn’t make it out over his hand’s furious movement.

“I sort of liked the tree,” I said quietly.

He almost grunted, scolding me. “The first draft is always shit.”

Did he think he was going to tell me what I liked? Because if so, that wasn’t going to work out so well for him. Abruptly the pen ceased, and as he stood back I got my first look. The circular pattern was reminiscent of a stained glass window. It was simple, yet striking.

“It’s pretty, but I don’t get it.”

The late afternoon sunlight from the front window angled across his face, lighting up the ends of the whiskers forming on his jawline. My breath caught as his warm gaze connected with mine.

“The armrest,” he said, handing my phone back to me. “It’s a mandala.” I stared at him, telling him I didn’t have a clue what that meant. “It’s like a geometric interpretation of the universe.”

My gaze drifted down to the screen and there it was. Black iron curled around the side of the bench. In the center was a round, simplistic shape that mimicked a sunflower with fat petals. Silas’s drawing was more modern and embellished, but the inspiration was undeniable.

My voice fell to a hush. “I love it.”

“Yeah?” He smiled genuinely. “Me too.”

My heart thudded in my chest, each thump sharper than the last. It was as if it hadn’t been working for a while and was trying to restart itself. Or perhaps break free from the ice.

The sketch was torn from the book and passed to me. “Make sure it’s what you want.”

My gaze studied the details of the decorative symbol, thrilled at how quickly he’d crafted it and how perfectly it worked. Pleasantly vague on the surface, but the meaning buried beneath. A secret, covering another secret.

And I knew exactly what I wanted. It wasn’t just the design. If this enormous, stunning man wanted to fuck me in the middle of his art gallery, I’d probably let him. Hard, and fast, and no strings was what I needed after last week. Would this artist’s creativity extend to sex?

All traces of Matt were gone from my life and I was anxious to get what I’d been craving. There wasn’t a wedding ring on Silas’s sexy hands. Fuck, please be single.

“It’s what I want,” I said, handing the drawing back to him. “It’s perfect.”

He peered at me, gauging my certainty, then glanced out the front window as if in thought. “Okay. Gimme a second, I’ll be right back.”

As he disappeared do

wn the side hallway, I wandered the room and admired his work. I didn’t know shit about art, other than it was subjective, but most of his stuff I liked. I paused, intrigued by a poster-sized canvas layered with different shades of red. It was like two shapes intertwined behind fuzzy glass.

“You like that one?” Footsteps approached and a huge shadow fell on the wall before me.

“What are they doing?” I asked. These shapes in the red fog were people . . . dancing?

His voice was light and curious. “What do you think?”

“Are you going to say my answer is a reflection of what I want to see? Because, honestly, it sort of looks like they’re fucking.”

He laughed, and it echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling. “If that’s true, don’t worry. I see it too.”

I glanced up at him, and the moment our gazes met I almost burst into flames. I fought back the urge to tear my clothes off and climb on him. An expression lingered on his face that said he’d be okay with it.

The tension was thick and it seemed neither of us could find words.