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What I am sure of is that keeping my hands off her just got a whole lot harder.
Chapter 7
Gemma
I lock up shop,tired and aching from hours of sanding, painting, sweeping, and scrubbing. The place is starting to shape up, which is good, as I have less than two weeks until the grand opening.
I’ve been working ten-hour days, fixing the holes left by the bookshelves, sanding and painting the walls a soft oyster, and donating the old furniture that Bette left behind.
The flooring company has been in to lay the new hard-wearing Carradine wood-effect flooring. I’ve removed the dusty blinds and hung string lights around the windows to give the shop a warm, welcoming atmosphere.
Callum is taking a few days off next week to help me set up and put the finishing touches on everything. Tasha, the owner of Valentine’s Bakery, popped in yesterday and offered a selection of sweet treats and cakes for browsing customers free of charge.
I want my jewelry to be the focal point when people walk in, so I’m keeping the decor simple and stylish. My glass display unitswith pull-out storage draws are being delivered in a few days, and the new shop sign will be up early next week.
By far, my biggest expense is the augmented reality screen being installed in the cozy, sectioned-off area at the back of the store. I’ve digitized all of my jewelry creations, so customers have a unique try-before-they-buy experience by selecting the item they want and virtually trying on the jewelry. I’ve had augmented reality technology in my online store from the beginning, so this is simply a physical version of the same thing. It’s impossible for me to stock everything in the shop, so this is a great way to engage the customers with my entire collection while adding to my brand value.
It's all coming together, and my excitement is only eclipsed by one thing.
That kiss.
It’s Friday evening—four days since Bentley kissed me at the studio, and although I’ve been busy, my thoughts have strayed to him at least ninety-eight times a day. Becausebe still my twanging heartstrings, that was some kiss. Hot and needy and wanting, Bentley kissed me like he couldn’t get enough of my mouth before leaping up to draw me as if I’d inspired him in some way.
And then he asked me to be his muse.Me.I’ve been back every evening this week, and although there’s been no more tonsil hockey—much to my disappointment—my sessions with Bentley have increased my confidence tenfold. I’ve become more relaxed each time as he’s sketched me in different poses, wrapped only in a silk sheet.
I’m not brave enough to get naked, so having the sheet draped over me seductively gives me a sense of control. Besides, the finished product is going on the wall above my bed, so I want something tasteful I can bear to look at daily rather than a drawing of me with my tits escaping under my armpits.
I head upstairs to my apartment above the shop that came with the lease. Bette’s taste in decor was eclectic, but somehow it all comes together to make the place feel homely.
In the main living area, two purple velvet sofas are strewn with gold silk cushions, and purple tassels hold the heavy brocade curtains back from the windows. The bathroom is a riot of colorful mosaics juxtaposed with a modern white suite, and the main bedroom is relaxed elegance with eggshell blue walls and a luxurious four-poster bed.
It’s a mish-mosh of styles, and I adore it.
I quickly shower and change into clean jeans and a green button-down shirt, pulling on my fur-lined boots and warm jacket to shield me from the chilly February evening.
Anticipation swirls in my belly as I drive to Crystal Peak and the art studio. Seeing Bentley has become the highlight of my day, along with working on my shop, and I can’t help thinking that things are finally coming together. Okay, my parents have shown zero interest in visiting the shop before the grand opening, but I stopped believing in miracles where they were concerned a long time ago.
Bentley answers the door quickly at my buzz, almost as if he’s as eager to see me as I am him.
“Hey, Gemstone,” he greets in that warm rumble, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.
He’s utterly gorgeous with his hair sexily ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. My hands itch with the desire to ruffle it some more. And whatever genetics produced a jaw that square should be cloned and gifted to all the chinless wonders out there.
His blistering gaze drops to my mouth, and a muscle in that perfect jaw flexes. Then he moistens his lips, andholy shit… I’m too young for hot flashes, so someone must’ve lit a fire in my gusset.
My legs are like wet noodles as Bentley leads me through to the studio. The bed is set up like our previous sessions, but there’s a velvet-covered wingback chair and an antique table holding a box of what looks like artisan chocolates this time.
“Thought we’d try something different this evening,” Bentley says at my questioning look.
“Um, by different, you mean …?”
“I want to draw you in that chair, wearing nothing but the silk sheet and your jewelry while you eat those chocolates.”
The heat from my cheeks spreads down my neck, and my pulse goes haywire. I need a defibrillator. Stat.
When his gaze lifts to mine, I’m unprepared for the force of it. I stepped on a live wire once because, well, my name’s Gemma Stone, and that’s how I roll. Looking into Bentley’s eyes is like that, sending a thousand bolts of electricity coursing through every cell.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “So, I just sit there and look sexy eating chocolate?”
