“You have an extra charcoal pencil?” Ellie leans over and whispers.
“I think so.” I lean over and dig around in my bag when I see Morgan out of the corner of my eye.
Fucking hell.
I’m not sure if he’s noticed me or not, but I try to ignore the urge to stare at him.
“Here you go.” I hand her one of my pencils just as the model walks out. She releases the white robe she was draped in and sets her pose. Her long, brown hair is flat against her back except a small chunk in the front that covers one of her breasts.
I decide against using the easel and set my sketchpad upright on my legs as I begin outlining her features. The room is eerily silent as everyone studies the woman in front of us. She’s standing at an angle, one leg extended and the other straight. Her right arm is placed over her chest and resting on her left shoulder. Her head is angled to the ground, her eyes low and steady.
I drown thoughts of Morgan out and focus on my drawing. The adrenaline rush from drawing a live nude model sets in, and soon, I even forget there’s a room filled with other people.
People start to shift in their seats as the first session comes to an end. The woman smiles as she puts her robe back on and walks back out. We get a fifteen-minute break before the models rotate.
“Well, if that wasn’t inspiration to get back into the gym, I don’t know what is,” Ellie blurts out the moment chairs and people begin to move around the room.
I laugh and reassure her she has nothing to complain about.
“Oh, trust me. Where I’m from, fried chicken and Mama’s famous gumbo are a regular occurrence in the kitchen. Add in her fried gator, homemade apple pies, and banana pudding, there’s no wonder I can’t shed weight.”
I stare at her, lost in everything she just said. “Wait, did you just say fried gator?” I make a face and cringe.
“Oh my God!” she squeals, making me jump. “You’re so going to come visit me this summer in Monroe. We’ll get tattoos and eat all the southern food you can stuff in your mouth. You’ll never want to leave.”
I stare at her, unmoving.
“Why aren’t you blinking?” she asks, narrowing her eyes in on my face.
I swallow and blink a couple times. “How did losing weight turn into me getting a tattoo and eating alligator?”
She laughs, but I’m not kidding at all.
I’m not eating that.
“I’m actually good with burgers and fries. I’m a simple Midwestern girl,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Stop being a baby.” She nudges her shoulder into mine.
“I think I need to get some water,” I tease, standing up and walking out before she can chase me down and make us blood sisters or something.
I’m careful to avoid looking in the direction of where I saw Morgan sitting. I walk to the vending machine and buy a bottle of water before heading back.
Before I step into the room, Ms. Jones comes flailing at me with a look of panic on her face. “Aspen! Oh God.” She manages to blurt out before coming to stop in front of me. She’s panting and her cheeks are flushed.
“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” I twist the cap off my bottle and take a drink.
“No! One of the models is in the bathroom puking her guts out. She says she can’t continue to the next rotation. What am I going to do?”
“Okay, well, um…” I stand there trying to think of a solution. There are only five minutes left before the next session is to begin. “What if we put half of the chairs in the empty room to each of the other rooms where the other two models are?”
“There’s no room for that many chairs! They’ll never fit.” She paces in front of me, frantically cursing to herself.
“Can you get someone else? I mean did you have a backup or know of anyone who’d be willing to do it?” I know it’s a long shot, but I can’t help asking.
“No, I never thought to. And go figure, we completely sold out tonight, so the rooms are all packed. Fifty people are in that room expecting another model, and I have no one!”
“I’ll do it!” I blurt out and she halts in front of me.
“What?” Her brow arches.
“Yeah, I mean…I’m not a professional or anything, but I could pose.”
“Are you sure?”
No.
“Yes.”
“Oh my God, Aspen! You are my life saver!” She hugs me—again with the damn hugs around here. “I owe you.”
I want to say something about how much she’s done for me and how she allows me to sell my AR Collection here, but the words don’t come. And it’s true, I owe her for keeping my secret, but now I’m second-guessing my offer.
When she pats my arm and thanks me again, all I can do is nod in answer…
Reality has set in.
I’m going to be naked in front of fifty strangers.
Fifty pairs of eyes will be staring at me—studying and drawing every feature of me for the next forty-five minutes.
“Okay, you’ll be in the first room. I need you to de-robe and get out there stat.”
“Right, sure,” I stumble. “Wait, which room is that?” She points to the room I was just sitting in. “Oh, no, no, no. I can’t go in that one.” Morgan, Ellie, and most of the students from my class are in that one.
And Morgan—my professor—WHO I KISSED.
“Yes, the other two models are already set up in the other two rooms. I need you in there, Aspen.” Her tone is serious, and I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“Um, all right. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll be fine, darling. You have a great ass. Just get in there and pose.” She walks away before I can sputter out another word.
Did she just compliment my ass?
I quickly release a breath and head into a back room where I undress and wrap the robe around me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I don’t have time to freak out. I tighten my robe and walk out.
MORGAN
She’s barely glanced at me since the moment I walked in, and I know she’s seen me. Some of my students are here, so I can’t risk one of them seeing us. She should know I want to talk to her, but I’m afraid I’ve pissed her off to the point of no redemption.
I notice she hasn’t returned from the short break and that people are starting to get restless. As soon as I shift in my seat to go find out what the holdup is, the door creaks open and people quiet down.
I adjust my sketchpad and get ready for another session when I see Aspen in front of the group in just a sheer robe.
My eyes widen.
Fucking hell
…what is she doing?
She avoids eye contact with everyone as she releases the robe. I watch it fall to the floor and my jaw drops.
I have to remind myself how to breathe.
Her golden hair is wrapped up in some sort of messy bun with a few stray pieces that lay against her neck. She adjusts the stool and sits on the edge of it. One leg is propped up while the other leg crosses over it. One arm is bent back on the stool, holding her upright, and the other across her lap, exposing her chest and stomach.
People begin moving their pencils, using their thumbs and closing one eye to measure out the length of her head, torso, and legs. They’re studying the technical parts of her—skin and bone.
I can’t stop staring at her long enough to blink. She’s absolutely gorgeous.
My jaw ticks knowing everyone is seeing her this way. I’ve felt her lips on my lips. Her body against my body. She’s more than just skin and bones. She’s also smart and passionate, and absolutely breathtaking in the way she creates art—brave for the way she pushes through the obstacles and strong even when she seems weak.
But I see more than just what’s on the outside—the goose bumps covering her skin, her bottom lip quivering, her right eye twitching as it always does when she’s nervous. She knows I can see her and can’t do a damn thing about it.
I decide to finally put pencil to paper and draw her the way
I
see her. From the outside, she’s brave, flawless, and confident. But I know the truth. She’s vulnerable and guarded. She relies on sarcasm to cover up the inner pain she’s battling. She only gives people a small part of her, scared that if she gave any more, it would completely break her.
She uses art to cope, and without it, she’d be a ticking time bomb.
My pencil moves across the paper effortlessly as I draw her features. She’s strong in the way she holds herself. Her back is arched slightly, one foot pointed, and her arm loosely over her upper thigh. Her lips are parted and eyes tilted down, but they flutter every few seconds as she struggles to blink.
The room is eerily silent, all focus and attention on her. I wish I could remove the image of her from their memories, pretend she was never here at all, but for a first-time nude model, she’s holding her own quite well.
As I’m working on the shading, I feel a soft tap on my shoulder and turn to see Aunt Mel standing behind me. Her face is lit up as she glances around the room, watching people finishing up their drawings.
“Isn’t she doing great?” she whispers, leaning down next to my ear.
I swallow, glancing away from my sketchpad. “Yes. What happened to the other model?”
“She got sick but is feeling better. She should be able to do the next rotation.”
Oh, thank fucking God.
I was about to have an ulcer at the thought of another group of fifty people watching Aspen.
“How did you rope her into doing it last minute?” I ask casually, hoping she doesn’t sense my irritability.
“Oh, I didn’t. She volunteered.” She smiles and my jaw ticks again.
Of course she did.
ASPEN
My heart is thumping so hard in my chest that I have to talk myself down before I have an anxiety attack.
The room is silent except for the scratch of charcoal and lead rubbing against the thick paper. Their eyes are concentrated and focused, drawing the lines and angles of my body. Their hands move rapidly as they outline my features and create a piece of me—the outside piece.
The strong-willed, fierce, put-together me.
Ellie stares at me with wide eyes. I can tell the corner of her lips are pulled into a cheeky grin. I hadn’t planned for this at all, so I can only imagine what’s roaming around in her head. I chance a quick look over to Morgan and notice him staring at me. He hasn’t moved, and I’m not even sure if he’s blinked since I sat down. I know he’s probably the most shocked of us all.
But then his eyes soften and those deep dimples reappear. His pencil moves across the paper as he looks back and forth from the paper and me. He’s not just drawing the lines and angles of my body. I can tell from his expression that he sees something more than every other person here. He sees right through me, down to every flaw and insecurity.
His body is angled toward me, more than the other artists in here. His back isn’t slouched and his ankles aren’t carelessly crossed. His stance is strong and defensive. He’s on guard as if he’s trying to control his thoughts and actions, and knowing people can’t see him react to me.
He’s hardly in control at all.
I can’t help the thrill that jolts through me knowing he’s watching me, drawing his interpretation of me. He’s all I’ve been able to think about all semester, so after kissing him twice, my body is ready to explode. His lips, his hands, his eyes—they’re all magnetic to mine.
I wanted him to see the real me—the person I try to hide from everyone else. But I don’t know that I can. After just the small taste of heartache over his deception, I’m not sure I’m capable of ever being that person.
But just when I thought I found someone I’d at least want to try with, he goes and takes it away from me.
I exhale a breath of relief as I slip the robe back on and tie it around my waist. I silently walk out and head to the back room to dress. The other model is in there already, sucking down a bottle of water.
“Thanks for taking my place,” she says with a sincere smile. “I forgot to eat and the nerves just got to me.”
“Oh, no worries. I can definitely understand the nerves part. I’d never done that before.” The adrenaline is still pumping through my body.
“It definitely gives you a high feeling,” she admits. “But it looks like you did great.”
“Thanks. I’m ready to go and hide now. At least a dozen of my classmates is out there.” I blush just thinking about it. I may put on a brave face when I’m out with friends and flirting with random guys, but that’s with alcohol buzzing through me.
I sat naked in front of strangers completely sober.
I sat naked in front of Morgan.
I swallow and exhale, needing to slow my racing heartbeat.
“Well, you did great. Be proud.” She winks and begins taking her clothes off.
“Oh, you probably need the robe.”
Apparently, we’re just going to undress and re-dress right here.
I hand her the robe and grab my clothes, quickly putting them back on. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough. I don’t need to draw out the process.
“Good luck!” I say as she walks out.
Thank God that’s over.
I sigh.
I hear the door open and close again and when I turn around, I’m face to face with Professor Hampton.
“Can I help you?” I take a step back and cross my arms.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, reaching for my arm and pulling me to him.
“Oh, are we speaking now? You have to let me know considering we’re always on your terms.”
“Cut the shit, Aspen. I’m not playing.” He clenches his teeth.
“Neither am I! One minute you’re all over me, the next you’re walking away as if nothing happened. I can’t keep up, Professor! So tell me what it is you want now.”
He stares at me with intense eyes, his jaw tense and body pressed firmly against the door. I see his chest moving rapidly up and down as he contemplates his next move.
He pushes off the back of the door, lunging toward me. His eyes are fixed on mine as he wraps a hand behind my neck and pulls us together. His other hand squeezes my hip as his mouth covers mine in a heated frenzy of lips and tongues. I lean into his chest as he pulls my bottom lip in between his teeth.
A strangled moan releases from the back of my throat as I try to catch my breath. My arms wrap aggressively around him, pulling him as close to me as possible. His hand squeezes my neck slightly, tilting my head up toward him more. He takes a few steps until my back is pressed against the other wall. I feel him against me—all toned muscles and tight features. I feel the hard bulge in his pants as he rolls his hips against mine. My body tilts up to greet his, wanting to feed the carnal desire within me. He groans and pushes into me harder, making me clench my thighs at how wet my panties are feeling.
Ms. Jones’ voice echoes in my head about Natalia—about him having a girlfriend and leaving after kissing me. Suddenly, the rage builds back up inside me, and I push my hands against his chest until his lips are off mine.
We’re both panting and staring at each other in frustrated breaths. Anger fuels me as I remember all the reasons I’m pissed off at him.
I grab my purse and walk out the back door, making sure not to disturb the group’s last session. Everyone is studying the model and their drawings, their eyes focused and steady. I try my best to silently leave, but I hear his footsteps behind me.
As soon as I push through the front doors, rain pours down on me and begins soaking through my shirt.
Just fucking great
.
“Aspen!” he yells from behind me, his feet hitting the wet pavement.
“Go away!” I continue walking down the sidewalk.
“God dammit, would you just stop and listen to me?”
I spin around quickly, the soft hairs that fall out of my ponytail clinging to my wet face. Before I have time to recover or brush them away, he wraps a hand around my neck again and pulls me toward him. His lips cover mine again and my body reacts to him before my brain has time to catch up.
I step back and push him away again. “You can’t just kiss me whenever you want!” I scream, irritation and desire both fighting for control.
His dark green shirt sticks to his chest like it’s painted on him. The wet strands of his hair drip down over his forehead, and I have to resist the urge to brush it away.
“Then why did you kiss me back?” he challenges.
“Because I’m an idiot! I don’t get involved with men who aren’t available. But you led me on…all damn semester!”
He takes a step back and narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about? I told you I don’t have a girlfriend. I’ve found any possible reason just to get a few minutes alone with you, crossing all possible boundaries just to be near you.”
“Really? Does the name Natalia ring a bell? Because according to Ms. Jones, you guys are quite the happy couple,” I mock in a condescending tone. The rain pours down harder on us, drenching us completely.
He throws his head back and lets out a deep, amused laugh. It fuels my rage even deeper at the way he’s laughing at me.
He thinks this is fucking funny?
“I’m glad you think this is hilarious. However, I don’t have time for guys like you in my life. Especially ones who treat women like a piece of meat.”
“Oh, I hadn’t realized you met my friend, Kettle. You two seem to have a lot in common.” His features tighten.
“God! What is wrong with you? Have you inhaled so many paint fumes in your life that you’re unable to function or think clearly?”
“Had you given me a second of your time, I would’ve explained all of that to you.”
“Well, excuse me for not wanting to listen to your bullshit lies when Professor Van-Horny-Pants was draped all over you.”
“That’s a one-way fascination. Not mutual. Never was nor will it be. Also, I had to leave after the gala because someone unexpected showed up the night of the gala, and I wanted to avoid any drama.”
“You mean your girlfriend showed up? That was the unexpected guest, right?”
His brow arches, and I know I’ve got him by the balls.
“Stop acting like you’re so innocent in all of this, Professor. I only kissed you with the assumption that you were single. But after hearing about Natalia, it’s pretty clear you’re just like the rest of them. I may sleep around, but I don’t mess with other women’s men.”
“For starters, I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t had a girlfriend in the five years since I left. I told you that. As far as Natalia goes, she’s my feisty eleven-year-old niece who lives with me. My brother’s daughter.” He arches a brow and the realization hits me smack in the face.
“You’re raising your brother’s daughter?” My brows lift. “Why haven’t you told me?”
“I was going to. I just thought until we established what this—” He waves a hand between us. “—was that I should wait before telling you something like that.”