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“Are you warm enough? You were out in the cold for so long and you’re not even wearing a sweater.”
Again, my throat closes. I press my lips together. Shake my head.
“Sin…”
“You were there,” I breathe.
“Yeah.” She pulls her hand away and instinctively I reach for her but she’s already up and rummaging in her closet.
“What are you doing?”
She pulls out a thin blanket and comes to drape it over my shoulders. “There.” She smiles at me. “To warm you up.”
Her kindness breaks me. What I want is to lie naked with her, let her silky skin warm me to my core, but—
“How do you want me to pose?” She strikes a ridiculous pose, one hand up in the air, the other on her hip. “Is this good?”
I manage a grin. “Is this your way of distracting me?”
“I’m just curious to know if you like it.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Well, I’m not a cat,” she says.
It couldn’t be less sexy. I’m covered in a blanket, shivering a little, she’s trying to make me laugh. My mouth can’t stop smiling. I don’t want to leave from here, don’t want to fight. My black heart is cracking open. It’s too damn dangerous.
“You look like a clown,” I say, deliberately putting up my spiky defenses, pushing her away. “Stop making a fool of yourself.”
“Oh.” Her expression closes down and I want to kick myself but the feelings in me are too strong to handle, to keep under wraps.
“We should get to work,” I say.
“Just because you were hurt in the past doesn’t mean you get a free pass to hurt others,” she whispers. “Nobody ever gets a free pass to be an asshole to others.”
I shrug, then wince. “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.”
“Now you’re quoting from Frankenstein? Are you Ashton in disguise?”
“Maybe he’ll start drawing in my stead.”
Her mouth twitches, even though the hurt lingers in her eyes. “Did I really look like a clown?”
“No. You’re beautiful,” I whisper. “I’m going to draw you and I want you to wear the clothes I bought you. Go ahead, put them on.”
“What? Now?”
I enjoy the look of shock on her face. “I want to draw you wearing them.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Probably. Fairly certain I’ve gone insane but that happened a long time ago. Right now, all I can hear is my lust, the steady thrum of blood in my veins, leading down to my dick.
The dick has no doubts, no qualms. It wants what it wants.
And it wants her.
“As I draw you,” I say, “we’ll talk about what else we could do.”
