Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) (16 page)

“Morning, beautiful,” he s
aid, his voice deep and throaty.

She
rolled toward him, snuggling closer and looking up into his face. He still had his eyes closed and his cheeks were scruffy with stubble. She ran her forefinger down his chin, feeling the bristly hair of his goatee.

“Morning.”

She never thought being in his arms would feel so good. All that talk about being friends was definitely long gone. And if she wasn’t careful, she was bound to lose her heart to him.

“Sleep okay?” he asked.

“Mmm.” She smiled, her gaze landing on his throat and traveling down his broad chest.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Did you?”

“
You have to ask?” Graeme cracked open a pale blue eye, a corner of his mouth lifting in a grin.

“Judging by the silly look on your face, I suppose not.”

He propped up on one elbow and looked down at her, his gaze raking over the length of her. It made her spine tingle. He bent to kiss her, his lips a sensual tease. His hands slipped over her body from shoulder to breast to abdomen. And where his hands went, his mouth followed leaving a searing trail along her skin. As though his hands and lips memorized her every curve.

“Marion, I’d like to sketch you.”
He whispered the words against her, his breath hot as it floated over her. “Will you allow it?”

Heat flashed through her
from head to toe, her cheeks burning.

“I want to capture you like this.” His mouth travel
ed back up and he placed a kiss on each dusty pink nipple. Teasing them into a pebble hard nub.

“I don’t know.” Her breath hitched. She had to concentrate to keep her breathing regulated.

“I love your body. The way it curves. You’re beautiful.”

She reached for the sheet to cover
up but he stopped her. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.
My opinion is the only one that matters.”

She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her
grin. Still, though, she wasn’t sure she should—or could—do it. She’d be forever in his sketch …
naked
. What if he showed someone? What if he painted her? What if he sold that painting in a gallery? Then everyone would see her naked. And she really hated her thighs. She tugged her bottom lip through her teeth.

“Oh, I get it. You think I’m going to put you on canvas
.” It was almost as though he read her mind.

“Well…you did say you li
ke to sketch before you paint…”

“What if I promise you it’d be for my eyes only?” His gazed went over
body again.

“
I doubt I’m the first naked woman you’ve sketched,” she teased. “I’d be just another page in that book.”

“No, Marion.” He s
ounded insulted. “You’re not ‘just another page.’”

H
er heart pounded a fast cadence. If she said yes, then Graeme could see her naked any time he wanted. Did she really want to be immortalized that way for him? Or would she rather he remember her in her fabulous black party dress?

“
I don’t know…”

“You can pose any way you like.
But I really want to see that beautiful body of yours stretched out for me. Only me.” He kissed her bare shoulder.

“You won’t…show anyone else?”

“Those sketches are for me only.” He winked. “No one has seen them.”

She really wanted to say yes. The thought of posing for Graeme not only made her heart race but it also sent warm wet heat to her core. “Could you…make my thighs thinner?”

He blinked surprise before barking a laugh. “If that’s what you want. And if that means you’ll say yes.”

She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Right now.”

Before she chickened out.

* * * * *

Graeme rolled to his side, hoping she didn’t see the sudden erection she gave him when she said yes. He reached for his pants and slipped them on. He couldn’t believe she agreed. He thought it was a shot in the dark. But he was glad she said yes. This was not the same woman Ethan spoke of so long ago. This sexy woman knew her way around a man and was certainly no prude. More lies.

She slid off the bed, standing beside
it as if waiting for direction.

“All right then,” he said
.

But he knew Marion was still a little shy and maybe a tad modest. Even though she tried to hide it. He was well aware of the blush in her cheeks when he told her he wanted
to sketch her.

He reached for his discarded shirt and handed it to her. Seeing her in
it would probably drive him to the edge but he didn’t have anything else handy.

“You
can wear this, if you’d like.”

“Thanks.”

Marion blushed again as she took the shirt, their hands brushing. He loved the way she blushed, the color high in her cheeks. He watched her slip on the shirt, fastening the first few buttons. She rolled up the sleeves to her elbows.

God, she looked
great standing there with her hair still mussed wearing his shirt.

He wanted her. Wanted to rip it right off and take her hard and fast. He wanted her so much it ached down in the middle of his chest. And, what was worse, he was afraid he would want her this way from now on. He was afraid that ache would never go away
.

“Come on.”

Graeme extended his hand to her as she walked around the bed. She laced her fingers with his as though it was the most natural thing to do. They headed upstairs to his studio, their bare feet quiet on the wood floor. His blood whooshed in his ears, making him light-headed.

Once upstairs
, he shoved papers and books off the sofa residing across from his drafting table.

“Sorry about the mess,” he muttered. And he was. Completely embarrassed he had let it get out of con
trol.

“But you said you liked the clutter.”
She smiled as she watched him.

“I do.” And he liked seeing her
in
his clutter. “Lay down there.” He waved her to the sofa.

She slipped by him, giving him a faint whiff of what was left of her perfume and a hint of sex. Their sex. With her back turned, he could see the slight ruffle of the shirt as she unbuttoned, then slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she gave him a
sexy smile before sinking to the edge of the cushion.

“Where do you want me?”

Here. There. Everywhere.
His cock hardened a little more.

“Stretch out along the length…yes, like that. Now put one arm up over your head.”

She raised her left arm and relaxed it over her head. Her breasts took the perfect shape, the nipples hard. Was she as aroused as he was? God, how was he going to get through this without taking her on the sofa?

Focus.

“How’s this?” she asked.

“Perfect.”

He could see the rapid flutter of her pulse in the long column of her throat. Her chest rose and fell with her jagged breaths. Yes. She was definitely aroused. And he knew how wonderful that moist heat felt inside her.

Graeme reached for his sketchbook and his favorite drawing pencil. The tip was worn down—not too sharp so that he could draw with ease. He settled into a chair near her and flipped open to the first blank p
age.

Glancing up, his gaze met hers. She gave him
a small smile again and it nearly made him melt. His pencil moved across the page, as if his fingers and hand already knew how to draw her. And maybe they did. He’d drawn her so many times from memory he could do it now without even looking. But he wanted to look…and he wanted to savor the moment.

He
glanced back down at his page, saw the outline of the curve of her hip. It flowed down into the roundness of her thighs. He added shading here and there. His pencil danced over the page as he drew her perfect womanly part at the apex of her thighs. He shaded the small thatch of hair that did nothing to cover her flesh but merely make his erection even harder. It was that part of her he’d tasted over and over. The sweetness of her juices still lingered on his tongue.

“Graeme?”

His pencil tip went back up again, adding the shape of her hair as it cascaded down one arm. He drew the curve of her breast, the nipple, which he’d suckled and licked and kissed. The perfect orbs of perfect flesh that fit so perfectly in his palm.

“Graeme?”

“Hm?”

“Have you…done this before?” Marion asked. She paused, waiting for him to answer. When he didn’t, she said
, “You know…drawn other women?”

His hand froze. He looked at her,
saw the question in her deep brown eyes. And was that a hint of worry? Did she hope to be the first?

“
Drawing the naked human form was sort of a prerequisite in art class.” He glanced up at her over his sketch pad. “It wasn’t erotic, if that’s what you mean. Certainly not like this. And I didn’t lie when I said you were the only woman in this book.”

“Why haven’t you drawn your other girlfriends?”

“None of them were perfect.”
None of them were you.

She
flushed. His response seemed to appease her. She remained silent as he went back to drawing.

H
e’d had a long line of girlfriends that rarely lasted more than a few months. And most of them worked in the same industry for which he designed websites. They were easily accessible and easily amused. They were shallow and gave him just enough sex to take the edge off. They meant nothing.

But Marion…she meant everything to him. And he wouldn’t
do anything to jeopardize that. And knowing how Marion preferred honesty over a lie, his guilt festered inside him. Eventually, he’d have to come clean.

He focused on the page in front of him again, glancing up from his work every so often to get another curve in his mind’s eye before he put it on paper. He drew her arms, the way she curled
one over her head and the other against her side. Her shoulders. He drew her face with such accuracy it was like looking at the real Marion. But then…he was an expert on her face. He had to admit it was some of the finest work he’d ever done.

When he finished, he dropped his pencil back on the drawing t
able and sat back, admiring it.

“You’re done already?” she asked, rising up to give him a sp
ectacular view of her cleavage. Her nipples were still hard.

“Yep.” Graeme turned the book around so she
could see. “What do you think?”

Marion stared it for a long
quiet moment. Then she blew out a breath. “It’s amazing. It looks just like me.”

“It’s not b
ad.” Graeme tried to be modest.

“I love your work, Graeme.”

The sentiment was so heart-felt, so sincere, it made his stomach bottom out.

“There’s something I want you to do now,” she sa
id.

“What’s that?”

“Make love to me. Here. Now.”

Chapter Twelve

There was something completely erotic about watching Graeme draw her. As though he had flipped a switch inside her. Marion couldn’t take her eyes off him. And his hands…such beautiful hands. She discovered quickly she loved watching him work. And she wasn’t oblivious to the bulge in his pants. That made the dampness between her thighs even more slick with heat. It turned her on to see his drawing of her—the way he saw her.

He put aside the book and rose, taking a tentative step toward her.

“Wait,” she breathed. “I want to do something for you.”

“For me?”

She nodded, opening her legs. Her knees fell apart as she reached down. She slid two fingers over her wet slit then between her damp lips, over her swollen clit. Her back arched as she gasped out a little mewl. He groaned and took another step. She stopped, removing her hand.

“Don’t move,” she warned. “Or I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop. I want you to watch.”

“You trying to kill me, lady?”

She took pleasure in that. “No
, just torture you.”

“It’s working.”

Her gaze landed on the thick bulge in his pants. He ran his palm down it, groaning.

“And no touching yourself,” she warned. “Or I’ll stop.”

“You’re a masochist.”

She grinned, feeling wicked, as her fingers went back to work. Sliding into her damp heat and swirling long, slow circles. Just like that morning she pleasured herself thinking of him. Now she could do it and look at him. When she was almost to the edge, she stopped and sucked her fingers into her mouth.