When I look up, my mouth goes dry.

She’s sitting on my mattress, her hair loose on her shoulders, and she’s leaning forward, her blouse dipping low, giving me a glimpse of black lace and the pale mounds of her tits.

Tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my hard-on pushing frantically against the seam of my jeans, I stare and stare.

“JJ?” Her uncertain voice is like a splash of cold water. She’s staring right back, frozen in place, one hand planted on top of my blanket.

“Perfect,” I rasp, coming down to earth and clutching the drawing pad over my crotch to hide how excited my dick is to see her. “That’s perfect. Stay… stay like that.”

Swallowing hard, attempting to bring some moisture back into my mouth, I start sketching quickly, broad lines, bold strokes to capture the posture, the curves of her body, the wild tangle of her dark hair, her wide eyes.

I botch the line of her thigh and blot it out with the special eraser. Fuck, fuck. My hands are shaky.

“Where did you learn to draw?” she asks, and I pause, the charcoal gripped in my hand.

“Learn?”

“Yeah. Who taught you how to draw?”

“Nobody taught me.” I shade in her hair, a storm cloud around her face. “Z-man takes a look at my drawings from time to time, gives me suggestions.”

“You’re self-taught?”

I glance up from the pad, blink at her. She looks startled. After what I told her last time we met, I thought it was clear my past wasn’t all special tutors and expensive lessons. Fuck, does she even know or guess I never finished school?

“Sorry,” she whispers, bites her lip—goddammit—and wiggles on her knees. “Didn’t mean to break your concentration.”

Is she kidding me? She intrudes on every thought and every wish that goes through my mind. I gaze into her denim-blue eyes, and I have visions of us tangled in my sheets, of me licking the sweat off her thighs as I bend between them, of her crying out my name—

The charcoal falls from my fingers and crashes to the floor with a sound like a bomb going off.

The fuck.

I leave the piece lying there and tear off the drawing, let it drift down to join the charcoal. I need something softer to nail her expression, the heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, the parted lips, the contrast between her dark halo and her sky-hued gaze. Soft and nervous, sexy and unsure, I want it all.

At least I’ll have her on paper, so I can look at her long after she’s gone from my life.

***

“You finished?”

“Hm?” I shade in the outline of her mouth, then glance up at her. “What?”

She’s leaning back, hands gripping the headboard, her white blouse riding up to reveal her bellybutton, and I shift uneasily in my seat. My balls ache with the need to come. I’ve been hard for… how long now? Hours. Hours spent staring at her, fantasizing. Wanting her.

I wonder briefly if chronic boners can prove fatal. It sure feels like it. I’m hard for her, but inside my resolve is weakening, softening, and my heart is pounding as I look at her.

So fucked…

“I said, have you finished with the drawing?” She wrinkles her nose. “You’ve been staring at it for a while now.”

Damn cute. I try to find words. Language fails me, so I grunt, and I hope she takes it as a yes.

“You probably want to do other stuff,” she says, sitting up, tugging on her blouse, and my eyes follow the way it molds over her lush curves. “Eat lunch, meet with friends. I don’t know… Stuff.”

She’s leaving.

I’m on my feet before I realize and walking over to her, the drawing pad and pencil thudding to the bare floor.

“Haven’t finished.” Not done with you.

“But I thought you—”

I sink down on the bed and lick my lips. I feel like a wolf licking his chops. I’ll scare her if I keep this up, so I scramble for an explanation.

I can’t. Can’t explain it even to myself.

So instead I lift my hands to her shoulders, skimming over her slender collarbone.

“What…?” she begins, and I shush her.

“One more drawing,” I say and grip the straps of her top. “Is this okay, Embers?”

I wait until she nods, and when she does, my fucking breath catches.

Shit, I’ve been dying to do this, to stroke her soft skin, to see more of her. She’s watching me, a blush coloring her cheeks, and my dick twitches in my pants. I’ve never felt so close to coming only by cupping a girl’s soft shoulders and staring into her eyes, so clear you’d think the darkening blue in their depths is her soul.

Time slows as I tug the straps over her arms, and her double-layer, satiny top slips down to her waist, baring her upper body to me.

Holy fuck. I thought she’d be wearing one of those strapless bras underneath… Nope. No bra. And goddammit, she’s fucking beautiful. More beautiful than I imagined her to be, and that’s after jacking off to the image of her. But her tits, man… Round and larger than I thought they’d be, crowned with rosy nipples that are hardening as I watch, rising to peaks.

“Jesus, girl,” I whisper, my pulse pounding until I think my heart will break out of my chest. “You trying to kill me or something?”

“You’re the one who wanted to take it off,” she murmurs, and damn, her voice, low and silky, wraps around my raging hard-on like a ribbon, pulling and tightening.

“I was. I am. I mean, I want it.” Hell. I need to grab my drawing pad and pencil, but as she draws a long breath, her tits rise and fall, and I can’t… Fuck, I don’t know if I can keep away.

I don’t think I can.

I thought I could. Guess I was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time in my life.

“JJ.” Something dark flares in her eyes.

She wants this. Wants me, and the knowledge slams into me so hard I think I’m gonna come just from that. Don’t know why the fact this specific girl wants me gets me so turned on. But oh man, it does.

The trick is not stopping to question why she’d want someone like me, if she has realized what I am and what I’ve been. Question what she really wants from me. ’Cuz that’s shifty ground. Quicksand.

I bend over her. I run my mouth over the juncture between her shoulder and neck, where her pulse jumps, and she moans, her nipples hard against my chest as she shifts on the mattress.

I’m panting, seconds away from pushing her on her back and slamming into her. Or going down on her. Or sucking on her tits until she comes from that. Whatever she prefers.

“What do you want?” she asks again, more softly, and this time I give in.

“I want you,” I say and lay her down.

Chapter Thirteen

Amber

Wow, I think as my back hits the mattress and Jesse Lee leans over me, hands planted firmly on either side of my head, his wide mouth crooked in a half smile. I don’t know when I stopped trying to resist him and gave myself up.

He screws girls for fun, Amber. What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?

Maybe. Probably. Hell yes. But I want him too much. Could be if I sleep with him I’ll get over him. God knows the handful of times I’ve been with a guy in the past had me running for the hills. No reason why it should be any different now.

Although I don’t want to run. Not from him. He’s fun and kind and fascinating and oh God, so gorgeous.

Holy crap, Amber.

I should hold out, I should keep away from him—only I can’t. Not when he’s so close I can smell his cinnamon scent blending with the musk of his arousal, when I feel his erection pressed on my thigh like a hot iron rod and those remarkable jade-blue eyes lock briefly with mine before drifting lower, checking out every exposed inch of me—from my mouth, to my neck and my aching breasts, the tips painfully hard as I throb deep inside. Needing him to touch me.