Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
And to Sebastian, I’m just a plaything, easily taunted by his cruelty.
Masking the hurt rising inside me, I push against his chest. “You got your payment. Now I want to see my painting.”
He stands, zips up his pants, then helps me to my feet. “Turned out uncannily accurate, if you ask me.”
I’m not sure what he means until I’m standing in front of his masterpiece, blinking in astonishment at the familiar face staring back.
Her skin flushed, lips dewy.
Textured shadows obscuring her more intimate areas, offering a sense of modest seduction.
But those expressive brown eyes, imparting every thought and emotion she doesn’t want the world to see.
That’s me on that canvas…and I can’t believe it.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, awestruck at how he captured me. At how he sees me.
He lingers behind me, heat penetrating my backside, and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Because you are, Novalee.”
The girl in the painting is tastefully positioned, sexily aroused, and she’s gazing at her audience with aching want in her bedroom eyes.
It’s a picture that spells desire.
Testifies to her desperation.
And she directs every bit of her longing at the artist.
If Liam ever sets eyes on this painting, he’ll see it too.
Chapter Eleven
Keeping my promise to Liam has never been so difficult. In the days since Sebastian painted my portrait, I’ve had to fight myself too many times to count. Because I’ve never ached to touch myself the way I do now, and I don’t want to let Liam down by breaking the promise I made to him.
So when I meet him for our second chess game, I’m certain shame lingers in my eyes. So does this incessant ache between my legs, reignited by his long kiss upon greeting me.
“You’re quiet today.” He slides his bishop across the board. “Is everything okay?”
Moving a pawn, I capture one of his, but I find no joy in the conquest. Because I can’t lie to him—we established that dynamic early in our relationship.
But God, I don’t want to hurt him.
“What’s wrong, Novalee?” A frown plays at the corners of his lips.
I settle back in my chair and hold his gaze. “Sebastian painted my portrait last week.”
He’s quiet for several moments. “You wore the diamond.”
It’s more of a statement, but I nod anyway.
“I knew it was a possibility when I sold the necklace to Heath.” He shifts in his chair. “What’s bothering you about it, my sweet girl?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The admission splashes a cold aura over the room.
“Then be honest with me.”
“Sebastian didn’t want money for the portrait,” I say, skirting the issue.
“Of course he didn’t.” Certainty hardens his tone. “He wanted to touch you.”
Shame clogs my throat, and everything I don’t say darkens his eyes.
“What did he get in exchange for his services?”
“I already told you. He touched—”
“I want details,” he cuts in.
My heartbeat thunders behind my breastbone, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t pull in a full breath. “I’m not giving you details.”
He watches me, tense with jealousy, his chin resting on his clenched hand. “Did you come?”
“I wasn’t allowed to.”
“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit through gritted teeth, hating the undeniable anger that shadows his gorgeous face. “And now I can’t stop thinking about touching myself.”
His nostrils flare in surprise. “You kept your promise?”
“It hasn’t been easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy, Novalee.” He leans forward, chess game abandoned on the table between us. “It’s supposed to teach you obedience, patience, and control.”
“It’s teaching me resentment.”
“I disagree. Abstaining is teaching you that your pussy belongs to me, even when eleven other men think they can claim it.”
The fervor in his tone shoots straight between my thighs, and I press them together, growing hotter and wetter by the second. The more we verbally spar, the more I want to push my hand into my panties.
“Please,” I whisper, the plea a breathless whine. “Let me touch myself.”
“No.”
“I need the release, Liam. I’m begging you.”
“If I give you permission, will you think of him when you bring yourself to orgasm?”
The memory of Sebastian astride my thighs, shirtless and shameless, his cock standing proud between us, almost makes me whimper.
“I…I-I don’t know.” My answer doesn’t earn me any points with him.
“And if I forbid you, will you still keep your promise?”
Futile tears burn my eyes. “Yes.”
Resting his hands between his knees, he dips his head. “So you’re loyal to me, but you burn for him.”
“It’s not that simple, Liam.” A drop of heartache splashes onto my cheekbone. “You’re not being fair.”
With a sigh, he stands and rounds the table. “Nothing about this situation is simple or fair, my sweet girl.” He thumbs away the teardrop on my skin. “You have my heart, but you don’t have my permission.”
“Please,” I beg again, blinking two more tears down my cheeks.
He bends long enough to press his lips to mine. “So long as Sebastian is the reason for the ache between your legs, the answer is no.”