Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
He held up a hand and prowled to his bedroom where she heard him spit and then rinse in his en-suite. He was back in seconds and her eyes were drawn to his mouth, which looked oh-so-kissable…
She jerked her eyes to the side and she was immediately diverted by the amount of loose paper scattered all over his kitchen island. Some of them had spilled onto the floor. One was lying just a few inches from her foot and…
Her thoughts screeched to a halt as she registered what she was looking at.
“Is that me?”
She unconsciously thrust the containers into his arms and stooped to pick up the pencil sketch.
“It is me.”
Only—despite the hyper realistic style of drawing—it was a Beth far removed from reality. This Beth was wearing a skin-tight black leather cat suit, her curves outlined in explicit detail, her small boobs practically spilling over the tight top. She was wearing black thigh-high stiletto boots, and wielding a thin lash, which arced up over her head in mid-strike. Her hair was a sexy tumble of curls, and—she peered closely—were those horns peeking up through the strands at the top of her head? Also, did she have a tail? Why did she have a ta—
The sketch was rudely snatched from her hand.
“That’s none of your business,” Gideon growled, crumpling the paper in his fist, and tossing it aside.
“No! Why did you do that? It’s really good.”
He gave an odd little shake of his head as if her words abashed him. His cheeks were highlighted by a feverish tinge of red and he avoided her eyes as he set the containers on the marble topped kitchen counter. He quickly gathered up the sheets of paper, and Beth made a grab for one lying face down on the floor.
She flipped it over and…oh my!
It was Beth again, nude, tousled, splayed—her eyes pleading, her lips moist and parted. Hands reaching toward the viewer of the picture.
“Gideon, why did you draw these?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about this. Humiliated? Violated? Turned on? Did he draw these as some form of sexual gratification? Or did he mean to show them to anyone else? To get back at her for her ill-advised question last night? Would he do that to her? He’d been angry enough last night. But Beth would never have believed that he’d go this far.
“W-what are you going to do with these? Are you going to put them on the i-internet?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Gideon sounded exhausted and dispirited. “Of course not. I’m—” She watched in concern as his fist clenched around the handful of paper he had gathered up from the counter and the floor. Despite her uncertainty about how she felt about them, she didn’t want him to destroy them. At least not until she’d seen them all. “I’m trying to get you the hell out of my head. You’ve crawled up into my fucking brain and you’re squatting there like an irritating, unwanted tenant. Every time I close my eyes I see you, naked, beautiful, wanting me. Taking me, all of me, loving it. Craving it. It’s driving me insane. Because I can’t reconcile that version of you with this one.”
He made this insulting, dismissive, sweeping gesture with his hand that encompassed the entirety of her body.
“What’s wrong with this version of me?” She asked, affronted. “The real version of me?”
He didn’t respond, merely stared at her wordlessly.
It was maddening how the man went mute at the worst times.
She glared down at the sketch in her hand, taking in every detail. He had missed nothing. For someone who had seen her naked precisely once, he had certainly memorized a fair bit of detail. He’d even included the mole slightly to the left of her belly button, the spray of freckles on her chest, the fine hairs on her arms.
“Questionable subject matter aside,” she said, needing to give credit where it was due. “Like I said before, this is really, really good, Gideon. You have some serious talent.”
Another odd little head shake and a snort of denial.
“May I keep this one?” His brow furrowed at the question and he appeared confused by it.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s mine.”
“But it’s of me.”
“It’s part of a set.”
“Show me the set.”
“No.”
“Why did I have horns and a tail in that other picture?” she asked, still quite weirded out by that. “And a whip? And those boots? What the hell?”
“I was pissed off.”
“Now I really want to see the rest. Surely, they can’t all be of me,” she said, her brow furrowing as she registered the sheer amount of paper he had clutched in his hand.
He made an evasive sound and shrugged.
“They’re not, are they?”
More mute staring.
Damn him.
“What’s in the containers?” he asked gruffly. His words were hasty as if he was keen to change the subject.