“Or—” I leaned forward, stepping closer. “Perhaps you came in person because you wanted me to talk you out of it.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.
I circled her, so tempted to touch her, but I wouldn’t. I respected her body and her boundaries. Besides, I needed her help—desperately. I hadn’t felt even remotely inspired in months, not until I saw her. And I didn’t want to fuck this up.
“I think you know exactly what you want,” I husked. My lips were a hairsbreadth from her ear, and I could hear the uptick in her breathing. “I think you’re just afraid to say it.”
“I…”
The pull I felt to this woman was…overwhelming. But this was about art. And I had ten pieces to paint in six weeks—a mammoth task. Despite the tension vibrating between us, I backed away.
“Come in. Make yourself comfortable,” I said, turning for the studio.
“Xander…” Her lips were pouty, her eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t think I can do this.”
My heart clenched. She had to do this. Ineededher to do this.
“You did great the other day in class. Since you came all the way here, at least join me for some wine. We can talk about art or whatever you want. If you still don’t feel like posing, you can go. Okay?”
She nodded. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked, walking forward so she’d be forced to follow.
“I’m not twenty-one.”
I halted and turned to face her. I hadn’t really considered her age. She was young, sure—but not even twenty-one? “You’re over eighteen, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m twenty. Do you really think most parents would give consent for their minor daughter to pose nude for a life drawing class?” She laughed.
“Good point.” I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen before butting her shoulder with mine. “Come on. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“You’re trying to corrupt me,” she said, but I suspected it was in jest.
“Nah. Just trying to get you naked.”
She laughed, butting me back with her shoulder. I was surprised by how quickly she seemed to relax now that I’d told her there was no pressure to pose. It made me wonder what it would take to get her this relaxed while naked. A few ideas came to mind, but…yeah, those were probably off-limits. And again, this needed to stay professional.
“Hey!” I steadied the wine. “I almost spilled it. Do you know how difficult it is to keep these floors clean?”
She laughed again, the sound lighter somehow, and I felt something in my chest ease. “Yeah. I can see why you’re concerned, considering their immaculate state.”
There was paint splattered everywhere. That was one of the best things about my loft. I could paint anywhere, and if I made a mess, it only added to the character and charm of the building.
“I love this space, by the way.” She glanced around, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s beautiful. And perfect for an artist.”
I watched as she placed the glass to her lips, tipping her head back to sip her wine. Her long hair fell in a golden curtain, her face tilted upward. My fingers itched to sketch her, to pick up a pencil or paintbrush and attempt to capture her. But I wouldn’t push. Desperate as I was, I didn’t want to do this unless she was all in.
“What’s your preferred medium?” I asked, curious to know more about her.
“Charcoal. It’s messy, but I love the contrasts.”
I nodded. “Yes. It has such a different feel, doesn’t it?”
“And limiting yourself to such a strict color palette—” Her eyes were alight with happiness, excitement. Her passion for art was evident, and it sucked me in. “—can be a good challenge.”
“Perhaps that’s what I should do for this exhibit,” I mused, my blood singing with excitement.
“Go back to the basics,” she said, her eyes meeting mine.
