AllFreeNovel
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“What are you doing? Why are you drawing?”
“Because you’re beautiful.” He stops for a moment, studies his work, and with furrowed brows, continues on. “You’re all I draw. Ever. I used to draw all sorts of shit before that day I met you, but other than Griffin logos, or the lion on my back, I’m not sure I’ve drawn a single thing other than you in twenty years.”
“Really?” I slide my leg along the bed and hover in that perfect space, the place between awake and asleep where everything is comfortable, everything is perfect, and everything Gunner says speaks directly to my heart. “You drew your ink? It’s the first thing I noticed when I walked into the gym the other week.”
“Yeah?” The corner of his lips quirk up into a small grin. “I had no clue if you’d recognize me that day, so I started out with my back to the door.” He stops drawing, looks up, and lifts a daring brow. “I recognized you, Elizabeth. So what was your excuse?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth in a contemplative nibble. “I was mostly looking at your body. My hormones took over and fried my brains.”
“Terrible cop,” he scoffs. His eyes drop back to the paper as he restarts his work. “I snuck into your home and watched you sleep. Nothing. I went through all your shit. Nothing. I stared into your fucking eyes, and still nothing.”
“Shut up. I was coming off a week of night shifts. That first night means I sleep like the dead.”
“And tonight?” he argues. “I crawled out of bed, opened my bags to get my sketchpad, dragged a stool in here, put pants on, and switched the lamp on. I’ve been awake for an hour, Elizabeth. You might be the least observant person I know.”
“And you’re still an asshole.” To annoy him, I drag my legs up the bed and tuck them into my chest, so instead of being long and languid, I curl up into a ball and ruin everything he’s trying to achieve. “You don’t deserve me. You have a bad attitude, Gunner, and I refuse to be your Rose Dawson. Draw from memory.”
He purses his lips, but continues to draw. “I have a very good memory. And now your ass is better. Stay there, I can work with this.”
“Ugh!” I shoot out straight, but when his chest bounces with muted laughter, I find it difficult to hold on to my faux anger.
Tossing my sheet away with a huff, I sit up tall and watch the way his laughter cuts off on a choke, and his eyes follow my every move and warm my skin. It’s like I can feel the heat pulse from the corner he sits in, like it welcomes me in, draws me closer, and tempts me with something I probably shouldn’t accept.
But I can’t stop myself.
No longer huffing, no longer mad, I slowly make my way to the edge of my bed and enjoy the way his intense stare makes my blood run faster. Ever since we were children, he was a starer. He has never apologized for it, and doesn’t give a single shit that society considers it rude.
His hand no longer moves, his eyes have lost all interest in his sketchpad. The only movement is from his broad chest as it fills with air, and his eyes as they watch me move.
“Gunner…?”
“Mm…” His tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip. He seduces me with that single movement, and has no clue.
I climb off the bed and stand in the tiny space between the boxspring and the wall, then I gently pry the pencil from his grasp, then the book, and place them both on the bedside table. I catch a quick glimpse of myself on the page… myself, but better.
He draws me exactly how I am. The details are perfect and lifelike, like a photo in black and white, but he makes me glow somehow. Like I truly am the most beautiful woman in the world.
He humbles me. He builds me up.
Turning back, I find his hands balled in his lap, his ankle still resting on the opposite knee, but as I come closer, he drops his ankle, opens up, and draws me in to stand between his thick legs.
His eyes wage a war with his brain; tits, face, tits, eyes.
Power swirls in my blood, because Theo Griffin is known all over the country for his amazing willpower and ability to never fold in business. But here he is, shirtless and right in front of me, and he can’t control a damn thing.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Lib.” He slides his hands over my hips and around to cup my ass. “This thing with us… everything we are… it’s always frenzied and somehow out of our control. There’s always a deadline, there’s always an axe over our heads. There’s always something, even if…” he hesitates, swallows. “Well, even if that something is me and my inability to let things go.”
“Gunner…” I bring a hand up and stroke a thumb beneath his eye.
“But now we’re here. There’s no trouble chasing us, no deadline, no threat. I’ve spent the last hour looking at you, and I didn’t once think about tomorrow. I didn’t think about work, or cops, or the Bishop wedding happening just across town. I’ve spent a week processing the fact I kinda have brothers – and though they may not like me, they’re not my enemies either. But for the last hour, nothing. I haven’t thought about any of that. I absorbed myself inyou, and I was able to live in the moment when I rarely can.”
“So… what you’re saying is… youneedme?”
Chuckling, he draws me closer until our chests touch, and leaning in, he nibbles on my neck and does things that make my toes turn warm. “Mine now, Lib. We’re finally here.”
When I say nothing, he pulls back and looks at me with furrowed brows. “Right?”
My heart races. It pounds. It aches, but then it soars when I nod. “Right. All yours. We’re going to work this out, I promise.”
