“Thank you,” I sigh, hug her, then let myself in.
14
ELOWYN
“Duncan,” I say, closing the door behind me.
The moment it clicks shut, I realize I’m not facing the Duncan I used to know. Not even the one he’s been during my time here.
This morning, he’s The Restorer.
His hair is mussed, fallen loose over his forehead as he scrapes away old varnish with a scalpel. Bent over a canvas laid flat across a wide desk, completely absorbed, the intensity of his focus makes my heart stumble.
My gaze drifts lower before I can stop it. He’s wearing plain clothes that shouldn’t be special, except on him, they are.
His jeans hang low on his tapered waist, hugging his lean frame. His white T-shirt clings to his defined muscles, mapping them as it also reveals other, sinister parts of his body. Like the veins coursing his forearms that flex with his every movement. Or the small stretch of his back that’s exposed whenever his shirt rides up by a fraction.
My mouth waters. I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing a moan that climbs up my throat. It’s a hardship, with how lust unfurls low in my stomach.
It gets worse when Duncan smooths something on the canvas, using his thumb.
Over and over andover.
Just like he rubbed my clit.
The sight of him is almost enough to push my common sense aside. I’ve forgotten why I came here in the first place.
Him. He’s the reason, a voice screams inside my head.
Right. And thedress. And being dismissed. Belittled.
By the one person my heart has always belonged to.
With my hands on my hips, I demand, “We can’t keep doing this, whatever this is. We need to talk.”
More silence. More of him scraping, concentrating on his work.
He’s more attractive than a cruel man has the right to be.
But as hot as he is, he can’t treat me as if I’m not even here.
“Duncan.”
“Elowyn.” That’s all the acknowledgment he offers, his attention remaining on his work.
Adrenaline makes my teeth knock. My fingers twitch.
My body is urging me to slap him.
I drift closer instead.
“Look at me.” The order comes out in a voice I don’t recognize. It’s the most confident I’ve ever sounded.
Duncan must notice it too. He sets the scalpel down beside the canvas and wipes his hands on his jeans.
Maddeningly slow, he turns to face me. Then he starts walking.
I gulp when he stops less than a foot away. I have to tip my chin up to meet his gaze. Arousal slicks my thighs, my knees wobbling from the scent of his cologne. From the sheer weight of his presence.
