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“Oh, hours and hours and hours. A long time.”
“It was worth it,” I tell her. “Let me see another.”
She shows me two more, one of a garden and a portrait of her pink-haired friend, but I almost lose it when she shows me the fourth. I almost flip the table. It’s a painting of a naked man.
“Not that one,” Samantha mutters under her breath, reaching forward to snatch it away.
My hands are shaking. My head is pounding so hard.
“It’s okay,” I say, but my voice is shaky.
She glances up at me. At the angle we’re standing at, she has to turn slightly. If I took one step to the side, I’d be able to drive forward with my hips, lean down, and press my manhood against her big, juicy ass.
“Did you… paint this from a real-life model?”
“It was a nude modeling thing—Lexi’s idea. Honestly, I felt awkward the whole time. I’d never want to do it again, but I decided to do my best anyway.”
I swallow, my head hurting, pounding with tension. “Well, you did a good job.”
I take a step away from her, warning myself to calm down. I’ve been on edge far too much lately. First with Loki, and now with my woman, but I can’t leave this alone.
“You’re not doing this again, though,” I growl, making it a statement rather than a question.
“No,” she murmurs, turning to me now. “It was a onetime thing…” She trails off in that telltale way like she wants to say more, but it’s as if she’s afraid. Of what? Me? Or the idea of saying something embarrassing?
“What?” I ask curtly.
“It’s just…” She swallows. “You seem really mad about it. Are you against nude modeling or something?”
“I don’t give a damn what people choose to do,” I tell her, “but…”
I need to stop right now. I need to think of James. Before I go any further, I should at least find out how he feels, how deeply, how intensely. Still, it can’t be deeper or more intense than the feelings flooding me. Stepping forward, I reach out, knowing I must stop, but I can’t. Hell, I don’t want to.
She lets out a gorgeous gasp when I grab her hips in both my hands. Fuck, she’s curvier than I expected. There’s so much fullness in her hips. I press through her sweater, feeling her body, her thickness. “But you’re not doing it again,” I snap. “You’re not going to sit in a room with another naked man again.”
Because you’re mine, you belong to me, and I’d kill any bastard who tried to touch you.
She gasps again when my touch tightens even more. I can’t hold back.
“Fletcher,” she whispers, and I’m unsure if she’s asking me to back off or keep going. Maybe the intensity is too much for her, but I don’t give a damn.
Leaning down, I guide my lips to hers while pulling her perfect body toward me. Just before we kiss, she moans, and I know she wants it. Maybe she doesn’tneedit in the same way as me, but she wants the kiss, at least—the heat. I smooth one hand around her body, savoring every voluptuous inch. When I start massaging her ass, my cock gets fully hard, precome leaking from my tip.
She kisses me slowly, nervously, like she’s never done it before. I take the lead, find her tongue, indulgently tasting her. Her ass is so full. Fuck. I want to bend her over, strip her naked, grind my shaft between her ass cheeks as I reach around, play with her slit, and get her ready for my dick.
She moans when I lift her off her feet, placing her on the table and letting me drive my crotch between her legs. I can feel her eagerness through our clothes. I grind up and down, groaning as my dick gets hotter, the pleasure closer.
Breaking off the kiss, she stares up at me. “The curtains are open,” she whispers.
I turn and realize she’s right. The open curtains show the street. Luckily, nobody is out there right now. If somebody was, if somebody saw her being so sexy, I can’t even think about what I’d do. I step away from the table, rush over to the window, and close the curtains so violently it’s a miracle I don’t tear the railing from the wall.
When I return to her, I can’t help myself. I grab her sweater and start pulling it over her head. She lifts her arms after a moment. Every movement of hers is tinged with nerves. I can feel them burning from her. Maybe a better man would slow down here, but I can’t think straight when I remove her sweater and see her white tank and pink bra underneath. It’s more intense than the haze of battle. It’s the haze of desire.
I groan, grab her top, and pull it down, revealing her full breasts wedged together in her bra. There’s somuchof her perfect curviness. With a snarl, I grab her bra and pull it down, revealing her pink, big, sexy-as-fuck nipples.
“Oh, fuck,” I growl, leaning down, massaging them, taking one in my mouth and sucking so I can feel it responding with lust.
“Fletcher,” she moans, moving her hand over my shoulder.
