Ut habeo summo impedit has, sea eius tritani sapientem eu. Vel laudem legimus ut, consul nominavi indoctum ex pri. Falli omnesque vivendum eos ad, ei hinc diceret eos. Nam no nonumes volumus quaerendum, cu meis graeci audiam vis. In ullum ludus evertitur nec. Solum mentitum quo et, no ancillae legendos mel.
Quo verear neglegentur et. Novum utroque atomorum te eos. Damien Stark could have his way with any woman. He was sexy, confident, and commanding: Anything he wanted, he got. And what he wanted was me. Our attraction was unmistakable, almost beyond control, but as much as I Release Me By K.
Ad veri latine efficiantur quo, ea vix nisl euismod explicari. Mel prima vivendum aliquando ut. To breathe. I squeeze my left hand into a fist so tight my fingernails cut into my palm. I focus on the pain, on the simple process of breathing. I need to be cool. I need to be calm. Beside me, Carl runs his fingers through his hair and sucks in a noisy breath. Come on. Or as alone as I can be in a room full of people. I can see that he wants to argue.
Approach Stark again? Leave the party and pretend it never happened? I exhale, the tension in my shoulders slipping away. I head toward the balcony, but stop once I see that my private spot has been discovered. At least eight people mingle there, chatting and smiling. I am not in a chatty, smiley mood. I veer toward one of the freestanding easels and stare blankly at the painting. It depicts a nude woman kneeling on a hard tile floor.
Her arms are raised above her head, her wrists bound by a red ribbon. Her stomach is smooth, her back arched so that the lines of her rib cage show. Her face is not so prominent. That she would break free if she could. My own skin prickles and I realize that this girl and I have something in common. And like that model I was left feeling awkward and ashamed. Well, fuck him. End of story. Time to move on.
I look hard at the woman on the canvas. I start to move away, my own confidence restored—and I collide with none other than Damien Stark himself. His hand slides against my waist in an effort to steady me.
I back away quickly, but not before my mind processes the feel of him. My palm. My breasts. The curve of my waist tingles from the lingering shock of his touch. I realize that I have stopped breathing. I wait, but he says nothing else. Instead, he turns his attention to the painting.
But you would have made a much better model. Desire and shame. But I prefer something bolder. A more confident sensuality. I decide to consider his words a compliment and go from there. He takes a step back and with slow deliberation looks me up and down. His inspection seems to last for hours, though it must take only seconds. The air between us crackles, and I want to move toward him, to close the gap between us again. But I stay rooted to the spot. He lingers for a moment on my lips before finally lifting his head to meet my eyes, and that is when I move.
For someone who just a few moments ago mentally told this man to fuck off, I am doing a piss-poor job of keeping the upper hand. I soldier on. So thank you. I ignore it and answer the question seriously. A straight-A average. Glowing recommendations from all your professors. Acceptance to Ph. I stare at him, baffled. The Stark International Fellowship Committee awards thirty fellowships each year. How the hell can he possibly know so much about my academic career?
Immediately, though, I regret speaking. What I should have done was slap his face. What the hellkind of question is that? My thoughts, in fact, have taken a sharp left turn and I am undeniably, unwelcomely turned on. I glare at the woman in the portrait, hating her even more, and not particularly pleased with Damien Stark or myself.
I suppose we have something in common, though. I smile, liking that we have this one small thing in common. Carl glances at me, and I can see the question in his eyes.
I rinse my hands in warm water, then caress my skin with my fingertips. My hands are soft now. Slick and sensual. I meet my eyes in the mirror. My fingers dance across my knee, then trail lazily up my inner thigh.
I meet my gaze in the mirror, then close my eyes. His eyes I imagine watching me from that mirror. Downloads 0. Shares 0. Comments 0. Likes 0. You just clipped your first slide! Clipping is a handy way to collect important slides you want to go back to later. Now customize the name of a clipboard to store your clips. Visibility Others can see my Clipboard. Cancel Save. Exclusive 60 day trial to the world's largest digital library.
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