Page 63 of Theirs to Rule

He kept his back turned to me as I slowly stood and got his robe. Then I quickly took off my clothes, put them on his dresser, put the robe on then returned to the bed.

He sat on his desk chair, his drawing pad balanced on his lap and his drawing pencils within easy reach.

"Lean back on the bed on your elbows but push one shoulder of your robe down so I can see your right breast."

I sucked in a deep breath and nodded, then did as he said. I felt my nipple harden but he just looked between my body and the sketching pad and started drawing.

I held my breath until he said, "Try and relax."

I snorted. "You think I can completely relax when you’re looking at me like this?" I demanded.

He looked up at me. "Yes. Because as far as I'm concerned, you could be anyone right now. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. You have a beautiful body. I've always thought so."

My heart warmed at his compliment, but it also confused me. Why was he being so nice to me suddenly?

"I can hear you thinking. Just relax. I’m not going to try anything."

I wasn’t buying it, though. I watched as his hand moved above the paper and there was something intimate about him capturing me on the page, knowing his eyes were taking in every detail, every goosebump, every pucker.

I shifted back on the bed and tried to make myself comfortable, but it was hard, considering I was naked in front ofa guy I still had feelings for. Ambivalent and conflicted feelings, sure, but I'd loved him once.

"Do you feel comfortable baring your other breast?" he said, his voice deeper and darker, suggesting that he wasn't quite as unaffected as he was playing to be.

I cleared my throat and pushed off the robe, so my entire chest was bare. His gaze homed in on my nipples, both hard now, and a small smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s cold in here,” I said defensively.

“Uh huh.” He nodded, returning his attention to his work.

My cheeks reddened.

I hated that his gaze alone was turning me on. Thank God my pussy was covered otherwise he might see how wet I'd become.

I studied him as he focused on his art. It was the only time I’d seen him fully relaxed since he’d arrived here - the creases in his forehead had disappeared, along with the coldness in his eyes. In that moment, he was just Ty, the artist, uninhibited and free, lost in his own world. It was a glimpse of the guy I once knew. A guy my heart ached to meet again.

“How’s it going there?” I asked after a while.

He shrugged. “It helps that I have such a beautiful subject to work with.”

He said it absently. As if it was a given I was beautiful.

"Beautiful, huh?"

“Don’t read too much into it,” Ty shot back, but his mouth tipped into a smile. “I found the spider I drew last week beautiful too.”

“Been drawing a lot of arachnids lately?”

“I started drawing them in prison. You could say spiders kept me company. And sane. Drawing them was therapeutic for me, and God knows I needed it after what happened."

“I'm glad it helped you. You’re an amazing artist.”

He grunted. My eyes darted to the mark on his arm again.

"What happened there?" I asked, nodding to it. He glanced down and shrugged.

"Just making sure I remembered something important."

"You did that to yourself?" I gasped.

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