“Maybe it’s growing on me.”
He’s watching me with a keenness that makes my skin tingle.
“So,” he says, still not looking at me, “should we start?”
I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. “Yeah. Yes. Absolutely.”
He picks up a brush, and I definitely don’t watch the way his forearms flex as he opens the first can of paint. Definitely don’t think about how much I want to know every hidden part of him, even the parts that terrify me with their softness.
“This looks more like a deformed starfish,”I mutter, frowning at my attempt to copy one of his flowers. The lines are all wrong, too harsh where his are delicate.
“Let me see.” He leans over my shoulder, close enough that I catch the faint scent of his soap mixing with something distinctlyAlfie. His breath stirs my hair. “It’s not that bad.”
“Liar. My petals look like they’re having an existential crisis.” I try to focus on the paper, not on how the heat from his body seems to seep into mine.
His laugh vibrates through me, low and rich. “You’re pressing too hard. Here?—”
He moves behind me, and my breath catches. His chest is solid against my back, one arm bracing on the table beside me, effectively caging me in. When his hand covers mine on the pencil, his fingers slot between mine like they belong there.
“Like this.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, sending shivers down my spine. “You have to be gentle.” He demonstrates, guiding our joined hands in a delicate arc.
“Please.I’m great at handling delicate things.” The words come out breathier than intended.
“Are you?” His thumb strokes over my knuckles as we draw another petal. The touch is barely there but it sets my skin on fire. “Show me.”
I try to focus on the drawing, but all I can think about is how his body curves around mine, how his chest rises and falls against my back. The lines flow smoother now under his guidance, but I couldn’t tell you what we’re actually drawing.
I swallow hard. “Very hands-on teaching method.”
Testing the tension between us, I lean back slightly into his chest. His fingers flex on my hip, pulling me infinitesimally closer.
“Show off.”
“I believe in thorough instruction.” His nose grazes the sensitive spot behind my ear, and my eyes flutter shut. “Wouldn’t want you to miss any... important details. See?”he murmurs, his lips so close to my ear I feel them brush my skin. “It’s all about control.”
His free hand finds my hip, fingers spreading possessively.
“Pressure.” His grip tightens slightly. “Patience.”
“All about control?” I tilt my head slightly, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. “Interesting. You sometimes seem… to lose it.”
His fingers pause for the briefest second, just a twitch, but I notice.
He knows what I’m referring to.
Alfie exhales slowly. “I don’t lose control around you.”
I blink. “Oh?”
He shrugs, casual. Too casual. “You don’t affect me like that.”
A slow grin spreads across my lips. He’s lying. I know he’s lying. And now, I want to see how long he can keep up the act.
I shift slightly in his hold, just enough to close that last sliver of space between us. I feel the way his breath hitches, the way his grip tenses against my hip like he’s bracing himself.
“You sure about that?”
His jaw tightens. “Yes.”
