Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Next, I put in a call to my assistant, who is thankfully a woman, and instruct her to order a whole new wardrobe for Shelby. With her weight and height listed on her license and having seen so much of her when she’d been barely covered by her “uniform,” I’m able to eyeball her size with confidence. This will work for now. Once I get her some clothes, I can take her out to pick whatever she likes.
I make a few more calls, adding her to my bank account and credit cards. When I’m finished, I slip her license and phone back into her purse but leave it behind in my office when I return to the kitchen. It sounds silly, but I feel so much better just knowing she’s taken care of. If, God forbid, something happened to me she would still be taken care of. She’ll never go without with her name on my bank account.
The take-out containers are almost empty, which makes me smile. Some primal part of me is satisfied knowing I’ve fed my woman. That same part is the one that has a craving to do other things to her. To prove to her and everyone else that she is mine. In time, I remind myself.
Shelby is still seated at the island and her head is bent over the paper, her reddish brown curls pulled over one shoulder, showing off the slender arc of her neck. My tongue itches to lick all that silky flesh before working my way down to her perky tits. She really is perfect. I didn’t know perfection like her existed.
As I approach her, I hear her humming while she writes. It stops me in my tracks, my body still and silent, becoming lost to the siren call of her voice. I wasn’t bullshitting her when I told her she was my muse. Every note she sings inspires me to create. Her energy fills the room, in turn sparking my own.
The explosive chemistry between us and the way she has wrapped around my heart inspire a whole other host of reactions. Ones I’m fighting a losing battle at containing.
I close the space between us, and she lifts her head, smiling shyly when she sees me. Her cheeks are stained with pink, and I tilt my head to the side as I study her curiously.
“What are you thinking, sweet girl?” I ask as I brush the pad of my finger over the pretty blush on her cheekbone. The way she leans into my touch fans the desire simmering in my blood.
“It was nothing, just me being silly.” She shakes her head and lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. I love her laugh but not that kind.
I grasp her chin and hold it so that she has no choice but to look at my face. “Everything you do is worth paying attention to. I can promise you that. Now, tell me what you were humming.”
“It’s a melody that I haven’t been able to get out of my head,” she admits with a small shrug of her delicate shoulder. I glance down at the paper and realize she’s drawn a staff and has been jotting down the notes.
I have perfect pitch and need only read the music to hear it in my head, but that’s not how I want to hear Shelby’s creation for the first time. “Let me show you something.” I release her chin and step back, then grasp her around the waist and help her off of the stool. Without a word, I lead her back to our bedroom and dig out a pair of sweatpants for her to wear with the shirt she has on. They are way too big for her, so I roll up the bottoms and tie the drawstring tight so they will stay on. She looks adorable and I’m almost distracted from my current course.
With one more perusal of her body, I’m satisfied that she is covered up enough for the walk to my studio. I take her hand and lead her through the house, out the back door, and across the yard to the retrofitted building.
My eyes stay focused on Shelby as I open the door and gesture for her to enter first. Her reaction is priceless. She lights up like the sun as she takes in the space. “Wow,” she breathes. Her eyes bounce around from the wall of instruments, to the recording booth, to the acoustic rehearsal space, to all of the equipment used for recording, mixing and editing.
“This is my sacred space,” I tell her quietly. “Even my brother isn’t allowed in here.” Shelby’s eyes snap to me, and they are big and round with surprise. I want her to know what it means for me to bring her here.
“But you brought me in here?”