“About the love part or the face part?”
I groan because she’s obviously making fun of me. “I love you. I can promise that. The last month without you was hell.”
She takes my face between her palms. Sable kisses me so gently. I want to keep it clean, but once I taste her, I need more. I push her to the bench. My hands grip her hips before I can stop myself, and I lick her lips, asking for entry. She moans softly andkisses me back, her hand sinking into my hair, and I can die right there and be in fucking heaven.
The door pushes open, and the professor clears his throat.
“Need water, Professor?”
“Get back to work, Rook.”
He closes the door, and I push her back inside. “Finish your assignment, Miss Briarwick,” I tell her with authority.
“Oh, yes, I’d love to do just that.” She pushes me away to head back to her station.
Reluctantly, I visit the other students. They are just as scared of me as they have always been, but this time, I don’t even feel accomplished. They are annoying bugs in the way of my time with Sable. Most of them have no talent whatsoever. I critique their work. Some of them dare to ask me questions, and I answer them, even if my eyes keep going back to the blonde at the side table.
Eventually, I let myself go back to her, my sketchbook in hand. I’ve been working on a new wardrobe for her, something that embodies her perfectly, and I know she loves fashion. I want to know what she thinks before getting started officially with a million dollars in couture fabric.
The job has never been about pleasure. The Rook is a fashion empire, and I want to take over once the old man dies. Yet these days I find myself painfully hard while sketching, imagining how she’ll fit in the clothes. I create long slits to every skirt, and low back so I can feel her skin on mine even when we are in the world.
“I have something to show you.”
She doesn’t look away from her assignment. “Aren’t you supposed to look at whatI’mdoing?”
I glance at her work. It’s obviously much better than most of the class. I grunt and move her hands, showing angles wherethe pattern can meet and create a softer line for the bust. It’s a minimal change, but it brings the design together.
“That’s incredible,” she breathes out, and I can’t stop myself from feeling proud.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Show me.”
I open the sketchbook and push it to her. Pleasure spreads over me when she gasps, admiring my work the way I’ve always wanted it to be admired.
“Genius,” she says softly.
“It’s your new wardrobe. I want something that really shows who you are.”
The bloodred color is a huge part of this, bolder and stronger hues because she’s a predator like us, sitting at the top of the food chain.
“I love it.” She nods. “Though I wish sometimes I could just wear my sweats.”
“Sure, I can design that too. Soft sweats with no underwear so I can just remove them all and find you naked?”
She laughs. “Perfect.”
I can’t resist, and I kiss her again. She’s self-conscious in front of the audience and steps away from me quickly. I let her go, wondering if that’s how she felt being paraded around constantly. The class is about to end, and soon I can have her for myself. Her eyes are down, looking at the sketchbook, fingers trailing over the soft lines.
“You know I love you, too, right?” she says.
Fuck, if that doesn’t warm my chest. “I didn’t.”
“Pay attention, Orion,” she jokes. “I love you, and I don’t want you to worry.”
“About what?”
“About Soren.” She shrugs. “He loves me too.”
She sounds so fucking certain I don’t have it in me to tell her she’s wrong. Love doesn’t do what he has. She must see myface because she reaches to squeeze my hand as if she needs to reassure me.
