Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Like any other time I was around him, I felt the tension settle on my shoulders. It was like being locked in a cage with a snake. There was a violent animal in the same space…and it was bound to strike. It just wasn’t clear when.
Today, I didn’t bring my bag because I left it at the hotel. I’d had room service brought right to me, something I hadn’t done since my parents took me on vacation fifteen years ago. Now I examined his studio more closely, seeing the pictures on the walls. They were all models dressed in his lingerie, sexy women who did his clothes justice. Some of them were too scandalous for publication, so it made me wonder if they were pictures just for him…as gifts. A mannequin sat next to the table, and a black bra was fastened on the figure. It was clearly in the process of being constructed because it didn’t look complete.
His large table was black, as were his walls. The hardwood floor underneath my feet was a deep cherry wood. The bed in the corner seemed out of place, and it made me wonder if his relationship with his models wasn’t always professional.
Of course, it wasn’t.
I slowly trailed around the room, looking at the pile of clothing pins on the table along with the random pieces of fabric thrown everywhere. It was cluttered but organized at the same time. I patiently waited for him to address me.
He kept working, sipping his coffee as he stared down at his drawing.
“You know I’m here, right?”
He kept sketching. “And I’ll pretend that you aren’t until I’m finished.”
As if yesterday hadn’t happened at all, we were right back to where we’d been before. “I would have kept sleeping if I’d known you’d be busy.”
“Your time is my time. Get used to it.”
I rolled my eyes then walked up to the table where he was standing. I looked around his arm and watched his fingers sketch a corset and thong. It was a rough drawing, but he added so many details with little room. He made notes along the side, writing down the fabrics and gems. He worked quickly, as if this idea came into his skull five minutes before I walked through the door.
When I stood this close to him, I could smell the scent of his cologne. It smelled like pine wood and body soap. Maybe it wasn’t cologne at all, but just his natural aroma. I imagined the scent clung to him just after he stepped out of the shower. When I pictured him in the shower, all man, muscle, and skin, I shook the thought away.
He finally set down his pencil. “Next time, you will wait until I’m finished before you speak.”
“Why?”
He shut the folder with an audible thump. “Because I don’t have to give a reason. Just do it.” He turned his body toward me, ready to lean into my face and say something else rude. But his mouth shut, and his eyes narrowed on my face. He took in my features slowly, his anger softening and a different expression coming over his face. Instantly, the rage he’d expressed toward me disappeared altogether. “Perfect.” He was just inches from my body, and the second he stepped away, he took all the warmth with him.
Since I had a hotel room, I was able to shower, use a blow dryer, and look in a mirror to do my makeup. He obviously noticed the change and seemed slightly struck by it.
“Clothes off.”
Now the moment was officially over. “Should I just drop everything the second I walk in the door?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yes.” He grabbed a different notebook and a measuring tape. “Why don’t I hear clothes hitting the floor?”
Now that I’d taken his money, I couldn’t disobey. I was committed to this out of obligation. I would have to get used to removing my clothes in front of this man I hardly knew. If would be one thing if he was gay…but he definitely wasn’t.
I peeled off my jeans and t-shirt and set them on the stool next to the full-length mirror. I stood in my white bra and panties, thankful I’d shaved everything in the shower that morning. When I looked at my appearance, I saw a thin woman with an hourglass figure and a little too much junk in the trunk. I never had struggled with self-esteem because I knew I was attractive. But not once in my lifetime did I ever think I’d have the potential to attract the biggest designer in the world. Not once did I think I had the right look for something that thousands of women would die for.
I still didn’t think that.
I felt his stare directly between my shoulder blades. I didn’t need to see his reflection in the mirror to know exactly where he was. His presence was heavy enough, and his stare was even more powerful.