Like everything in his life, he never cares about anything too deeply.
Even medicine seems like a stepping stone to him, but at least it’s one he actually enjoys.
Killian kicks the door shut behind him. “Good to know your sense of sarcasm could be upgraded. Also, I’m calling bullshit on the normal people part. If you were normal, you wouldn’t get off on being roughened up like a little dirty whore.”
My cheeks heat as I release an award and face him. “Killian!”
“What?”
“Can you not?”
“Not what?”
“Call me a whore outside of sex, you perverted prick.”
“Let’s get you naked first and then I’ll consider it.”
“I want to sketch something first.”
“Do it after.”
“No, I have grasp it now before it escapes me. I’ll sketch it real quick and redraw it later.”
“What isit?”
“I only have a feeling, so I won’t know for certain until I put it to paper.” I grin. “I’m weird and different like that.”
“Is it possibly a nude?”
“I don’t usually do those.”
“Usually?”
“I do them in class sometimes.”
“I need to have a word with your college so they’ll ban you from drawing naked people.”
“Stop it, you tyrant.” I can’t help but laugh. “You don’t see me moaning about you touching patients and seeing them naked.”
“That’s different. They’re patients.”
“And this is art.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Start convincing me then.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you say you want to sketch?” He retrieves a big stack of big white paper from the drawer and fishes out a mechanical pencil and tosses them on the rug opposite a huge mirror. “Sketch.”
I sit cross-legged on the floor and narrow my eyes on him. “Does that mean you’ll wait until I finish?”
“You know I’m not a patient man. At least, not when it comes to you.” He kneels behind me and meets my gaze in the mirror, his dark and harsh like the worst storm from the hurricane season. His finger grabs hold of the strap of my dress and slides it down my arm. “How about we both do our thing?”
“I’m not going to sketch while you’re touching me.” My voice becomes low, definitely laced with arousal.