Bentley nods, his gaze never leaving mine. It’s probably the candlelight and the glow of hormones spewing from my ovaries, but he looks even more handsome tonight. It’s impossible to look away from his penetrating gaze. I’m pinned in place, turned to stone by the electricity crackling between us. No, not stone. Magma. Or Jell-O, judging by my wobbly legs.
“I think I can do that,” I say, proud that my voice is only slightly strangled.
I don’t think too hard about how easily it’s gotten to disrobe in front of Bentley. How it’s changed from a hasty, half-embarrassed race to a sensual dance—no longer hiding behind the partition in the corner but dropping my clothes as soon as the studio door’s closed and the blinds are drawn.
I know he watches me, every move, every inch. And it sets my nerve endings on fire.
With the sheet wrapped around me, Bentley positions me in the chair. “Like this,” he says, moving my legs so they’re draped over the arm and I’m leaning back on an angle.
The sheet parts to my upper thighs, and his breath hitches almost imperceptibly. He’s so close I can see his throat bob as he swallows. It takes everything in me not to lean forward and press a kiss on the warm skin, tasting it with my tongue.
He arranges the sheet so it’s draped over one shoulder, leaving the other shoulder and arm bare as I lounge in the chair. I feel like Cleopatra, enrobed in a silk tunic as she awaits her lover. All I need now is some kohl eyeliner and a bath filled with goat’s milk.
When Bentley has me arranged to his satisfaction, he hands me the chocolates. “I want you to eat them slowly like they’re the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.”
My gaze drops to the telltale bulge in the front of his jeans, and I choke on my spit. I have a feeling there’s something that tastes more divine than the artisan chocolates I’m currently crushing in my hand.
I snort, dragging my errant thoughts from the image of my mouth wrapped around him. “Well, that shouldn’t be hard, what with my love of all things sugar.”
Bentley smiles. “You’re forgetting that I know you taste sweeter than the finest chocolate, Gemstone.”
Coming from anyone else, that would sound corny, but Bentley’s words are like a physical caress, tightening my nipples and igniting a furnace between my thighs.
He’s so close that the heat emanating from him threatens to melt me into a puddle of need. I’m scared of these powerful emotions he ignites in me.
He cups my face in his hand, his thumb tracing my bottom lip and pulling. And then he’s kissing me with a fierce desperation that steals my breath, devouring me with his lips and tongue. On and on, his mouth hard and demanding until I’m shivering and soft, needy moans escape from my throat.
His shirt is bunched in my fists. My nipples are diamond-hard, and a needy throb pounds between my legs. Every one of my five senses is saturated with him, but I need more. I needhim. Inside me. His mouth on my skin, and my hands learning the hard lines of his body.
If he weren’t anchoring me to the earth, I’d shoot off like a rocket into space and explode into a million shards of bliss.
Bentley groans into my mouth, and I arch against him, sliding my hands up his shoulders and digging my fingers into his hair. I cling to him and shake, knowing that whatever he asks of me, I’ll give it willingly.
Bentley pulls back to look at me, breathing hard. His eyes are also black with desire as they skim over my face. “There you are,” he murmurs. “My Gem.”
Shit, yes, here I am—every spontaneously combusting pound of me.
My heartbeat pulses in my fallopian tubes, and I’m pretty sure there are curls of smoke rising from my skin. If he brushed his thumb over my nipple right now, I’d come. Hard.
“Stay just like that,” he instructs.
He moves away before I can reply, taking his place behind his easel. Shit. One touch and I’m ready to toss caution to the wind along with the sheet.
Bentley is already immersed in his work, murmuring instructions as he draws.
“Lift your arm a little.”
“Hold that chocolate next to your lips, but don’t eat it.”
“Tip your head back.”
“Yes, that’s good. Beautiful.”
His praise makes me brave, and I blurt out the question that’s been plaguing me since he left. “Why have you stayed so faraway from me for so long? Why didn’t you talk to me after the accident?” That night seems so long ago now. I was a selfish, naïve little girl.
Bentley shakes his head, a muscle flicking in his jaw. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I tip my chin, holding his intense gaze. “It matters to me. It’s mattered for seven years.”