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Switching on the light at her drawing table, she selected a charcoal stub from the box of drawing medium by the desk. A clean sheet of rag paper was already laid out on the angled table, waiting for her.

She closed her eyes, pulled a deep, steadying breath, and rolled her neck. She didn’t want to calm down, just redirect her turbulent emotions, channel that wired energy into the charcoal stick in her hand, and see what happened next.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the blank paper, waiting to see what came to her.

“There,” she whispered as a vague image began forming in her mind. The first stroke of charcoal slashed across the virginal white paper. The beginning.

Two hours later, she dropped into a chair, blinking in surprise at the early-morning sun streaming into her studio. As always, she had become lost in her work, the time slipping away from her. She contemplated what she had created.

Two figures entwined each other, merging into one in places, fingers and hips fused together. The faces were ambiguous, lacking identity, but the gender of each was undeniable. Here was a man and woman in the throes of sexual ecstasy.

Sienna threw the charcoal stub to the floor. There was no doubt what had been on her mind as she worked. Or whom.

God, what was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes on the sensual drawing, only to be dismayed by the images that filled her head. Images of James doing the most wicked, erotic things to her. She banged her forehead on her knees and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “You need help, Sienna.”

“You draw that?”

At Zach’s sleepy voice, she sat bolt upright.

He stood beside her, scratching at his hair and squinting at the charcoal drawing.

“Yes. Couldn’t sleep.” She adjusted her arms around her legs. If Zach realized she was dressed only in a pair of underpants and a tank top—her sleeping attire since he moved in; no more sleeping naked—who knew how he would react? It was such a relief to see him without a scowl on his face she didn’t want to ruin it.

He tilted his head, studying her work with silent consideration. “’S’good.”

Sienna smiled, the warmth in her belly from his compliment almost taking her breath away. “Thanks.”

“Kinda reminds me of my last nanny.”

A knock on the door saved her from responding.

Zach turned toward the door, the ever-present scowl returning. “This place is worse than Central Station.” He threw her a quick look before stalking in the direction of the bathroom.

Sienna sighed. For one brief moment, he’d almost been civil. Uncurling from the chair, she glanced at the wall clock and moved to the door. It was only six thirty. Whoever it was, she was going to have a chat with them about early morning boundaries.

“Interesting.” James Dyson cocked an eyebrow, a smile curling the corner of his mouth as his gaze surveyed her body. “Do you always answer the door so underdressed?”

Oh God, she’d answered the door in her underwear. Again. Her hands itched to tug at the hem of the tank top, to check her knickers weren’t skewed. To slam the door in James’s smirking face.

Christ, how embarrassing.

I can’t let him see me shaken. I can’t.

Tilting her chin, she fixed him with an unwavering glare. “What do you want, Mr. Dyson?”

Those dark brown eyes of his regarded her with indolent suggestion, sending a shiver up her spine. “Are you sure you want to ask such an open question?”

“You know what I mean.” She wouldn’t run and hide. She wouldn’t. Despite her nipples pinching into rock-hard peaks at the implication of his question. The friction of her shirt’s cotton on the tight tips unsettled her completely. It was too easy to imagine James’s fingers on them instead.

Or better yet, his tongue.

Christ, she was in trouble.

A slow grin stretched his lips. “We have a portrait to create. Xavier’s present.”

She gripped harder on the door. “Go away.”

“We’ve already had this conversation. And I received confirmation the day before yesterday that you’ve agreed to the commission.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“I am.”

Her heart hammered hard against her breastbone. Her skin prickled with flushed heat. A pulse deep in the junction of her thighs constricted. She bit back a groan, her traitorous reaction dismaying her. What was wrong with her?


Tags: Lexxie Couper Billionaire Romance