Page 18 of On Your Knees

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

Patrick stops the car near the elevator. I scramble out so there’s no chance of him getting to my door in time.

“Thanks,” I say. The word plunks awkwardly into the car’s silent interior, so I quickly shut the door. Patrick drives away to park.

He definitely doesn’t like me.

The penthouse level has its own elevator, so I quickly ascend forty-some floors and step into the hallway that startled the hell out of me yesterday. It’s not news that there are lots of rich people in New York, but it’s never been relevant to me before, so the glossy hardwood floors, decorated walls, and skylights feel like an alternate reality.

I stop dead at Ethan’s door. It’s cracked open. For me? I look over my shoulder, but I’m alone in the hallway. He’s expecting me, right?

Of course he is. Patrick brought me.

I put my hand on the handle then take it back then reach out again. Stomach twisting with doubt, I go inside. I close the door behind me, hoping that’s right, and walk cautiously through the foyer. I peer into the huge, open space of the kitchen and living room. Ethan is nowhere to be seen.

“Hello?” I call out.

There’s no answer. I walk in, hovering in the space between the living room and kitchen. It feels weird being in here without Ethan. In his absence, though, not distracted by him, I’m better able to take in my surroundings.

I don’t know much—anything really—about rich people, but this place seems way too impersonal. It’s luxurious but kind of soulless, like a movie set. There’s some artwork, but it’s the type that could be anywhere, like the pieces in the hallway.

Ethan is an intense, complicated person. I saw that yesterday when his mood shifted. This nice, neutral space doesn’t feel right for him.

I crane my neck to see down the hallway, where there are a bunch of doors, but there’s no sign of him. After a couple minutes, I walk through the living room to the dark, transitional space with the shadowy statues. The door to the room where we worked yesterday is cracked open like the front door was.

I’m hesitating outside it when I hear Ethan call out, “Come in, Levi.”

My heart jumps like I’ve been caught doing something, but I’m supposed to be here. Ethan wants me here. He left two doors open for me. He let me walk through his house like he trusts me. He gave me seven thousand dollars to make my life easier, and I can’t even process how relieved I am to have my rent caught up and my credit card paid off. I’m practically floating.

But more than all that, Ethan drew me yesterday, and I liked it. He’s going to draw me again today, and I want him to. I’ve been waiting all day for this.

So I open the door and go in.

Ethan is behind the bar sipping amber liquor from a tumbler. His dark eyes burn on me over the rim of it. He’s wearing jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt that reveals the muscled contours of his chest and shoulders. The sleeves hug his biceps, which I find myself staring at. This is the most I’ve seen of his body.

“Hello, Levi,” he says as he lowers the glass.

“Hi.” God, why do I always sound out of breath when I talk to him?

“Get undressed.”

My heart skips. I don’t move.

His head cocks slightly to one side. “You did it yesterday.”

“I didn’t,” I remind him. “You did.”

His eyes half shutter. He makes a sound like, “Mmm,” and starts walking around the end of the bar.

My heart starts absolutely hammering. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t what I was thinking.

Except… I do.

Ethan comes to stand in front of me. He sips his drink, watching me over the rim of it.

He asks in a low, rasping voice, “Do you need me to help you?”

“Yes,” I reply, breathless and almost inaudible. I feel like I’m possessed, like I’m not controlling the words coming from my own mouth. Blood is pumping hot and fast through my veins. My body has a light, electric feel.