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)
I slowly shaky my head, staring at the insane amount of money in my hands.
“Ethan, I seriously can’t accept this.”
“You seriously can. And you will.”
“What’d your dad say?”
“Emily, it’s an investment, not a handout. And I showed him my homework on you.”
I blush. “Your what?”
He laughs. “No, I mean, I showed him your work, and I showed him what artists who ‘make it’ can bring in with paintings, especially in a place like Chicago. My dad might be a lot like me, but he knows a sound investment when he sees one.”
I balk. “Sound? What if…” I bite my lip and look down before I drag my eyes back to his.
“What if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
“Okay, but what if I—”
“Emily.”
I gasp as he pulls me close, leaning in so his lips brush mine.”
“You won’t. Because I believe in you, and because you’re too fucking good. And because someone back in Southworth wouldn’t quit on me, and now I’m not going to quit on her. Not ever.”
He growls as he pulls me close, his lips crushing to mine as I moan into his kiss. I melt into him, hugging him fiercely.
“Scale of one-to-ten, how much does your family hate me for what I did?”
He chuckles.
“Takes two to tango, gorgeous. Dad gets that, and so does Celia. Plus,” he grins. “Plus, all of this gets me out of the house, and as much as I like my dad and Celia, and as much as they love me, I think we all knew it was time for me to head out into the world.”
“Wait so you’re really going to AI?”
“I really am.”
“And you’re really living here?”
He grins, pushing his fingers through his dark hair.
“Well, technically. I don’t exactly have a place to live yet, but I was sorta hoping I could bunk in with this girl I know.”
I grin, wagging my brows at him.
“You asking if you can move in?”
“Yep.”
“Bold move.”
“Would you want me any other way?”
I blush, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I shake my head.
“Uh-uh.”
“Good,” he purrs, pulling me close as he leans in again.
“I love you, Emily Hayes.”
“I love you too, Ethan Scott,” I whisper.
“When are you off?”
I grin. “Why?”
“’Cause I want to draw you.”
I blush. “Oh really? Like one of your French girls?”
He shakes his head as his lips brush mine.
“Actually, I was just kidding about drawing you.”
I make a fake pouty face, and he grins wickedly.
“I do want to take all of your clothes off. And I do want to draw you, I just had a few ideas for how to spend some time in between those two things.”
“Just a few, huh?”
“You want the broad strokes or the detailed agenda?”
I blush furiously, moaning as he scoops me against him and kisses me slow and deep.
“I—I have to wait for my boss to get back from the vet. No, the psychic.”
Ethan give me a confused look and I shake my head.
“Forget it, it’s a long story.”
“How about this then,” he growls. “New plan. You do what you gotta do, and I’ll draw you. And then the second this boss of yours gets back, I’m dragging you outside to my bike, driving to your apartment, and then I’m going to pull every single one of your clothes off with my teeth and make you beg.”
I gasp quietly, shivering heatedly as my thighs squeeze together. The shop goes quiet, and we’re both just standing there panting hungrily at each other before suddenly, we snap.
“Oh, fuck waiting,” I gasp, jumping into his arms as our lips crash together. We stagger backwards as he pulls me up into his arms, my legs circling his waist as my back hits the front door. I reach back, fumbling for the lock as Ethan flips the “open” sign around to the “closed” side and pulls down the blinds.
“Fuck I missed you,” he groans.
“Don’t ever let me run away again, okay?”
He grins into my lips. “Even if I have to tie you down, you better believe it. I love you, gorgeous.”
“I love you too.”
We tumble to the floor behind the cashier’s counter, and that’s exactly where we stay for a very, very long time.
Epilogue
Ethan
A week after I got to Chicago, we moved in together in this big old artist space I found in Wicker Park. Big ceilings, big old factory windows with a ton of light, and tons of wall space for artwork.
Art school is great, but she’s better. Actually, she’s better than great. She’s fucking amazing. And fuck is she killing it out there. She finally took my money—my “patronage,” I guess you could call it, and used it to get herself set up on the road to doing art and just art. It’s been a few months since I got here, but already, she’s taking this town by storm. Emily’s got work—new and old—up in four different galleries around the city right now. She’s got an agent too, this super-driven woman named Jen who’s setting her up for a major show circuit in a couple cities across the country. New York, San Francisco, L.A., and Miami.