Page 13 of Lessons in Desire

“You paint?”

She nods and that prowling beast under my skin claws at my inside, hungry for more. It’s the first new taste of her it’s had in weeks. The first new morsel of information and that taste is enough to snap the thread of control I’ve been keeping on my questions. On my want to know her.

It breaks. The beast pounces.

“Can I see?” I push the papers away and lean forward.

She shakes her head firmly. “No way. Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t show anyone my art.”

“Well, I can be the first.”

“No.”

“Yes.” I capture her eyes with mine, telling her silently to submit but the little vixen never makes it easy for me.

Instead of submitting, her eyes grow hard, the brown deepening to bark. “So, after ignoring me for weeks, you now want to demand I show you my work? No way.”

“I haven’t ignored you.”

“You’ve been different.”

She narrows her eyes, daring me to argue but I don’t. I can’t, because its true. I’ve been putting distance between us but it’s not because I want to. It’s because I have to.

“I’m sorry.” I take her hand, my body moving before I have a chance to think and her breath shatters, catching. “I’ve been … it’s complicated. But I am sorry.”

Her hair falls over her face in a curtain of cornflour blonde, and I stroke it back, my actions not my own as my fist carves to follow her jaw, to trace the path to her beck. She leans in, and I do too, our eyes wide open and firmly on each other. The minty warmth of her breath mingles in the space between us, that small gap of reason waiting to be broken. The tension in the room has thickened to a paste, palpable as our lips hover, ghosting over each other.

And then the hearth cracks, and the burst of noise shatters the moment.

Her eyes widen, horrified. She jerks her bag over her shoulder and stands. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“No, Evelyn, wait.” I reach for her hand, to do what with I have no idea, but I’ll never find out because she flees before I can touch her. She flees before I can really understand what’s staring me right in the face.

Chapter Eight

Evelyn

The weather forecast said light rain. I remember because the woman smiled, her red lips cracking open like a door as she said the words just a little drizzle. But this, this is a torrential fucking storm. I’m drenched the minute I step outside my dorm building, and by the time I make it to the humanities building, I’m dripping water onto the floor like a storm cloud turned human.

And I’m late. Perfect.

I also didn’t dress for this downpour, pulling on my yoga pants and shirt without a thought. I curse the world as my feet hit the ground, the wet slaps echoing on the stone floor. When I reach his room, I don’t even pause before pushing through the doors, silently drifting through the class as a hundred eyes turn to me, watching as I run to my desk. I send Asher a mouthed apology and he nods, his eyes softening as he continues his discussion.

We haven’t spoken since that almost kiss that confirmed everything that’s been sitting between us.

I let out a breath and settle in, letting Asher’s dark voice seep through me like warm water. He’s discussing the gothic revival, one of my favourite artistic architectural movements, and the passion, the love he speaks with sends my stomach scattering. There’s nothing covertly sexual about it, but as I listen, everything in me clenches in need, my pussy flooding with the desire I’m unable to control.

“Think of CSU.” His voice echoes as he points to the lecture hall, we’re sitting in. “This place was built with the gothic revival in mind. Can anyone tell me how?” He looks around, daring a student to answer. The female populace of the class hangs onto his every word, fluttering their eyelashes and biting their lips as they blush at him.

I can’t blame them, I’m the exact same, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy from spiking through me.

A girl at the front speaks, biting her lip at Asher with intent. “The windows?”

Asher smiles. “Exactly! Tell me how.”

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