Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Holy shit, Ethan.”
I turn to him, my mouth still hanging open as he grins.
“Wait these are all you?”
He nods. “Yeah. When I moved here fresh out of Lenox Hill, I spotted this place away from the house and just sort of set up shop here. My dad wanted me in the house with the rest of the family, but Celia took my side. Convinced him it’d be a good spot for me to ‘get creative’ in.”
I smile. “Nice going, Celia.”
“She’s pretty cool, actually.”
I turn, my eyes scanning over the myriad of paintings around the room. A lot are his go-to medium of spray paint in fluid, aggressive style. But there’s also traditional looking still-life oil paintings, some charcoal sketches, and even watercolor landscapes.
“Ethan, these are freaking amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. These are really, really good.”
He shrugs, glancing at a few of them. I set my jaw, taking his hands and pulling him around to face me.
“I’m not being nice. This is seriously impressive.”
He grins a little wider. “Thanks. I don’t show these to anyone, not even really Jamison.”
“You should. People should see these.”
He shrugs. “Eh.”
“I’m serious!”
He grins down at me, pulling me close before he leans down and kisses me softly on the lips.
“Thanks. Really.”
“Look,” I say quietly. “No more suspensions, okay? Just…” I shake my head. “I get it, okay? I get that Winchester is…”
“Full of assholes?”
I giggle. “Yes.”
“Rich, snobby assholes.”
“Hey, it’s also got good people too, though. And you can go anywhere from this school. You just have to—”
“Please don’t say the words ‘apply yourself’.”
I grin, flipping him off as he chuckles.
“How about ‘stay out of trouble’, and I’ll help you get into the best art school I can get you into. Because the world needs talent like this.”
He says nothing, and when I look back up at him, I shiver at the intense way he’s looking at me.
“What?”
“Why do you want to help me so much?”
“Because.”
I blush and he groans as he pulls me close.
“Because what?”
“Because maybe I kinda like you, Ethan Scott,” I say quietly, glancing back up into his eyes. And when I do, my heart jumps as I lose myself in his gaze.
“I kinda like you too, Emily Hayes,” he growls, pulling me into him. Our lips crush together, and I moan into his mouth as his hands slide over me. I gasp, grinding against him, and when I feel him start to tug at the hem of my skirt, I whimper as I kiss him harder.
“Hang on,” he growls quietly, pulling away and eying me heatedly.
“What?”
He grins.
“I want to paint you.”
I blush.
“Oh, do you? Let me guess, ‘artistic nude’?”
“You can call it whatever the fuck you want, but you’re damn well gonna be nude.”
I blush, shivering as his eyes burn into me.
“Take your clothes off, Ms. Hayes.”
12
Ethan
Somehow, I manage to keep my hands off of her as we head up to the loft where I keep my bed. Well, that’s not entirely true. I put my hands on her plenty, especially when I’m a total gentleman and help her peel her clothes off. But I do resist claiming her right there, at least for now. Because I need to paint her. She’s too gorgeous, and too incredible for me not to.
I growl as I set up the easel and sit behind it. I’m setting up my paints and brushes, but I’m mostly watching Emily stretch out naked on my bed.
My cock throbs, but I clear my throat as I concentrate on the task at hand. My eyes linger on her, and my brushes slowly paint the page, almost without me even looking at them. The light coming in through the window above the bed just fucking glows on her skin, her curves perfect, her eyes wild, and her lips parted just so as I capture it all on the canvas.
And she’s a great model. She lies still, on her stomach but half turned to me, giving me a view of her perfect tits and just a little teasing glimpse of her pussy. My eyes wander over her bare legs and the soft curve of her ass, and my balls swell as I paint it all across the canvas.
“You’re a good model,” I say, trying to distract myself from the need to just pounce on her and sink my cock deep into her from behind.
“Flatterer.”
I chuckle. “No, I mean you’re good at posing. You don’t move around.”
“Not my first rodeo.”
I arch a brow. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I did a ton of nude modeling in art school for figure drawing classes. I mean it payed fifty bucks a session.”
My jaw clenches, my brow furrowing, but I say nothing as I continue to push paint across the canvas. I’m not clueless enough to think Emily hasn’t had any sort of history being eight years older than me. I truly don’t give a shit about whatever is in her past—I mean, I’ve been no angel. But the idea of a bunch of art assholes gawking at her nude in the middle of a class gets my blood burning like—