But there’s something I didn’t plan for—the way her smile and touch starts to make me forget all I blame her for…
She dropped her attention to the numerous sketches fanned out on the floor beside her, chewing on her bottom lip. “And I have plenty to start the painting.” Looking at him again, she straightened from her stool. “I don’t think I’ll need to see you until next week. Maybe Monday morning? For an hour or so? Is that okay?”
No. I can’t go that long. I don’t want to.
Damn it. That feeling of urgency to be around her hadn’t been part of his plan.
The plan? What plan?
Hadn’t he asked himself that exact question only a few days ago? When he’d first visited her home? So why did things feel so different now?
“Monday will be fine.” He dragged in a steadying breath. “I’ll bring breakfast.”
An unreadable light flared in her eyes. “No, that won’t be necessary.” Dropping into a fluid crouch, she collected the sketches from the floor.
He watched her, enjoying the way the smooth creamy line of her bent leg disappeared into the frayed hem of her denim shorts.
Christ, her thighs are exquisite. Almost sublime.
The urge to trace the velvet length of flesh filled his groin with fresh heat. He bit back a groan. At this rate, he’d never get out of the chair.
Stop thinking of her legs then.
“Why don’t you want me to bring breakfast?”
An almost imperceptible tension claimed her shoulders. “I can feed myself, thank you.”
He’d made her guard go up again. Not what he’d wanted to do at all. “I’m not saying you’re incapable of doing that.”
She looked up at him, green eyes direct. “It wouldn’t be professional.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Nothing about our relationship is professional.”
She scowled and straightened, the roll of sketches in her hand held like a sword between them. “We don’t have a relationship.”
He studied her, his grip on his ankle painful. “What if I want one?”
Whoa. Where had that question come from?
She let out her own laugh. It played hell with his sanity. “We’ve had this conversation already. You hate me and blame me for your brother’s death. I despise you and everything you stand for and want nothing to do with you.”
“And yet we’ve just spent the last sixty minutes talking like we’re old friends. I’ve never seen you more at ease. Not really the behavior of someone who despises me, wouldn’t you say?”
She shrugged. “It allowed me to sketch you without your normal pompous arrogance.” If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was bored and indifferent to the whole situation. But he did know better. He affected her, as much as she did him. The fluttering pulse in her neck and her shallow breath gave her away.
Still, if he pushed it now, he would lose everything he’d gained today. He wanted her to trust him. So he could…
The trilling chirp of her mobile phone saved him pondering the unnerving question. She placed the drawings on a nearby bench and hurried to the kitchen area and snatched her phone from the counter.
ABOUT LEXXIE COUPER:
Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once.
When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, a indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.
ENTER THE GIVEAWAY