And the only man I’ve ever loved.
Chapter 2
Bentley
I finishmy phone call and sigh, running my hand through my hair. It’s been a busy week with moving back to where I grew up.
After years of living in Denver, I needed a change. At first, the buzz of the city was new and exciting—a far cry from the sleepy vibe of my hometown, Garland. But lately, the sheen has worn off. The frantic pace of living and the crippling workload at my previous tenure left me burned out, with no energy for my passion.
Somewhere along the line, while teaching the dry facts of fine art to mostly uninterested students who treated the subject like a fucking vacation, I lost the desire to create magic with pencil and paper. I needed the mental space to create in a less chaotic environment.
Drawing is my passion, superseded by only one thing, or rather, one person. But I left her almost seven years ago. Staying would’ve only weighed her down.
Call it a coincidence or a quirk of fate, but when Rocky Mountain University of Art offered me a short-term tenure close to myhometown with a ridiculously good salary and accommodation provided, I couldn’t turn it down. Having the apartment right above the art studio was an added bonus. Their previous lecturer had a heart attack, and the university was looking for someone who could start immediately. Having recently resigned from my tenure in Denver, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
I quickly check the appointment book to remind myself of the name of the client waiting downstairs. I inherited the apartment and the appointment list of the former art professor—which currently details one name, Gigi Summers. Guess my predecessor wasn’t that busy.
Gigi has paid for a course of private life drawing sessions.
Grabbing my sketchpad and pencil, I descend the stairs and make my way through the connecting door into the studio, only to frown when I find it empty. I asked Gerald to listen for Gigi’s arrival while I took my phone call. He was supposed to bring her through to the studio so we could talk a little before her session. People often get nervous about this kind of thing, and I like to put them at ease before we start.
Muttering reaches me from the changing room screen, and I almost stumble back a step as a curvy ass appears from behind it. A voluptuous goddess has her back to me as she yanks off her T-shirt and bra, revealing a smooth expanse of skin. A brightly colored gemstone tattoo decorates her lower back, and she has a peculiarly shaped birthmark on her shoulder that I would recognize anywhere.
“This is all about me,” she mutters passionately to herself. “All my life, I’ve let others define how I see myself, but not anymore. Nope. I want to see myself through the eyes of an artist and—”
“I like the tattoo. Very appropriate, Gemstone,” I say, combining her first and last name like I always used to.
She squeals and grabs for her shirt before spinning to face me. Her big, hazel eyes are flared wide in shock. “Bentley?”
Gemma Stone.
My best friend’s little sister.
The sixteen-year-old girl I left behind has matured into a fuckingvisionof womanhood. My gaze roves over her, taking in her smooth skin and soft curves. Her chestnut curls kiss her shoulders, and her full lips are frozen in an “O” of surprise as she clutches her white button-down T-shirt to her glorious tits and gapes at me. A rosy nipple peeks out from a gap in her shirt, and that’s all it takes to have my cock straining uncomfortably at the seam of my jeans.
Ah, fuck.What is it about this woman? She’s always affected me this way, and it was hell keeping my reactions hidden from her all those years ago. Seems nothing’s changed in that regard.
“Ohmygodohmygod! Turn around!” Gem squeaks, her cheeks blooming a fiery red.
Quirking an eyebrow, I tear my gaze from the temptation of her pretty face and heavenly body, but I don’t turn. The thin gentlemanly veneer I’ve perfected is stripped away in a heartbeat, and I’m the messed-up kid who left here years ago, wanting something he could never have.
“Ah, crap … big mistake … shouldn’t have come … stupid idea … life-drawn portrait of myself … gonna kill Peyton.”
I’m not sure who Peyton is, but I swallow a smile at Gem’s mutterings. She always had a habit of speaking her thoughts aloud. It was fucking cute. Still is.
By some twist of fate, she’s in my studio, looking more beautiful than ever.
Twist of fate? Who the fuck are you trying to kid?
Much as I try to deny it, I knew there was a strong possibility I’d run into Gem. Shit, maybe a part of me, the part I’ve buried deep, was hoping for precisely this when I came back. After all, only a few miles separate Crystal Peak and Garland.
“Okay, you can turn around,” Gem says a few seconds later, oblivious that I didn’t turn away in the first place. She braces her hands on her hips, her expression bewildered. “What are you doing here, Bentley?”
I shrug, trying not to notice the smooth curve of her cheek and the tiny mole at the corner of her top lip. I squeeze the sketchpad in my hand, and my fingers twitch to capture her essence on the paper. “I live here. Moved in a few days ago. I’ll be teaching at the university.”
Something flickers in her hazel eyes. “Callum didn’t mention you were coming back.”
“I didn’t know about the offer until ten days ago. I didn’t mention it to Callum because I planned on surprising him.”