Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Don’t you dare.”
“But aren’t you being squashed?”
“No, and even if I was I wouldn’t care.”
“So, that was new,” I said, after a moment.
“Yeah, sorry to just spring it on you. I think it’s pretty awkward to talk about sex unless I’m right in the thick of it, so a lot goes unsaid.”
“I’m fine with you springing things on me, especially when they’re that much fun.”
“While we’re still basically in the moment, I’m going to toss out the idea of finally breaking in my not-dungeon sometime soon,” he said. “I’ve been avoiding it, but I think it could be fun.”
“Are you avoiding it because it makes you think of the boyfriend you built it for?”
“No, not at all. It just seems so cold and impersonal. It’s just about fucking and none of the intimacy and other good stuff that goes with it, like this.” He hugged me a little tighter.
“So, you don’t like it for the same reason you don’t like one night stands.”
Micah thought about that, and then he said, “Yeah, basically. But I think you and I could still have fun in there.”
“I know we could.” I stretched up and kissed him, and then I climbed out of bed and told him I’d be right back. After I cleaned up in the bathroom, Micah took a turn. Once we were both back under the covers, I asked, “How long do we have until your meeting with Boseman?”
“Almost two hours.”
He looked so gorgeous with his hair strewn across the pillow that I said, “Stay right there.” I quickly retrieved my pad and pencil, sat cross-legged on the bed, and started drawing him again.
He teased, “Are you going to get distracted this time?”
“Probably. I think you’re absolutely beautiful and a huge temptation, Micah.”
I watched the subtle change in his expression as he tried to decide if he believed me. I’d learned over the last two months that his ego was an oddly fragile thing. Not that mine was rock-solid, but after all he’d been through in his life, it seemed like his would have hardened up over time.
In many ways though, he was a lot like a little kid seeking validation. He didn’t believe he was handsome, or smart, or a lot of other things that were so obviously true. The only thing he believed in was his ability to sing and play the guitar, and I hated the fact that the way his career imploded had almost ruined that for him.
It made me feel fiercely protective of him—and that wasn’t all I felt.
As I sat there, pencil in hand, studying every curve, line, and nuance of his face, I wondered when exactly I’d fallen in love with Micah.
It was so obvious all of a sudden—or maybe it wasn’t sudden at all. If I was really being honest with myself, I’d have to admit it had been building for weeks, until it finally became undeniable.
But I pushed that all down, because this wasn’t the time to confess my feelings. Not by a long shot. Instead, I finished the portrait, turned it to face him, and asked, “What do you think?”
He sat up and scrutinized it before saying, “That’s a very idealized version of me.”
“This is exactly what you look like, Micah.”
“You left off the gray hair and the lines around my eyes. Also, my nose is bigger than that.”
I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed as I told him, “I drew what I saw. Would you be okay with me including it in my portfolio? It’s actually the best thing I’ve drawn.”
“Go right ahead.” He grinned wickedly and added, “No one will recognize me anyway.”
I threw a pillow at his head, and he dodged it before lunging across the mattress, dragging me back onto the bed, and kissing me. As he hovered above me, I tucked his hair behind his ear and muttered, “It’s a good thing I like you.”
“I was making fun of your rose-colored glasses, not your drawing ability,” he said. “You’re a wonderful artist. I hope you know that.”
“Good save.”
“It’s true, and that fancy art school is going to be lucky to have you.”
He dropped down beside me, and I rolled onto my side facing him and said, “There’s every chance I won’t get in. Why did I aim so high? I should have started with a few art classes at the community college.”
“Most of Sutherlin’s students attend right after high school. You’re not expected to have advanced skills. That’s what they’re planning to teach you.”
“But those kids are already the best of the best in their high school art departments. Also, thanks for reminding me I’ll actually be ten years older than the other freshmen.”
He knit his brows and said, “You look like you’re barely twenty, so nobody’s going to be like, who’s the old geezer? They’ll save that for when I come and visit you on campus.”