Page 15 of Illicit Illustration

“See you in the morning. I’ll bring my tripod.”

“Your what?” she squeaked, her eyes briefly darting toward my pants, and it took all my fucking willpower to hold back a laugh. This girl had a much naughtier mind than I’d ever expected.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I teased. “That one won’t do much good for holding up a camera, but thanks for the ego boost.”

My palms were fuckingsweating as I pushed the back door of the shop closed, making sure the security system was armed before I escaped up the back staircase.

I didn’t remember ever being this nervous about texting a woman, not even when I was in high school.

This was ridiculous. I was over thirty, not thirteen, but here I was, staring down at my phone like a fucking pussy, trying to figure out what to say.

I hadn’t been kidding the last time Hudson had given me shit about my dating habits. Women pursued me, I didn’t pursue them. And to be completely honest, I didn’t even exchange phone numbers with half the ones I messed around with.

My reputation preceded me most times, and they knew what the score was. Sage Springs wasn’t that big. If you wanted no strings attached, one night of fantastically dirty sex, you either came in and got a tat with me or tracked me down next door.

Most of the locals steered clear, but with an influx of tourists and college girls—let’s just say my dance card was full. And nearly everywhere around my shop had been defiled, but never my bed.

I didn’t take women upstairs. It seemed too…intimate.

The time Hazel walked in on me at the bar had been an anomaly. While I may have engaged in some borderline inappropriate displays of affection on the dance floor, I hadn’t fucked anyone at the bar before—or after—that. We’d just been interrupted by Haz coming to look for something in the back room at the same time.

Unfortunate timing.

Definitely for me, because I felt like it’d been a mistake I couldn’t escape, even after two years. Hudson had held a grudge for my lapse in judgment, and Hazel had retreated inside herself, takingaway a valuable friendship. I hadn’t realized until it was gone that I would miss her so terribly. While Hudson knew all my dirty secrets, Hazel had been someone who understood my need to create.

It was rare for me to click with someone on a purely artistic level. Even when she was in high school, Hazel was a very skilled illustrator, and we’d spent a lot of time drawing with each other. Watching her skills grow and flourish from afar since things fell apart had been bittersweet, but Iwasproud of the business she was creating. She may have been embarrassed to tell me what she was really doing, but I’d admired her ability to dive into something so sex positive at this step in her career.

Women shouldn’t have to hide their sensuality, and artwork like the one on her tablet was just one avenue to explore that side of their sexuality.

I just hadn’t expected it from her. She had a shy, demure vibe about her that had kept me away, but now that I knew what she’d been hiding from me, I was going for it.

Charley and Hudson had never outright told me that Hazel was inexperienced sexually, but I could read between the lines, especially after Charley’s little pep talk earlier in the night.

The responsible best friend of her older brother should have stayed far, far away from her, but everyone knew I was a bit reckless. I wouldn’t be reckless with her though, and I sure as hell didn’t want to risk some dipshit college guy breaking her heart.

Blowing out a breath, I sat down on the edge of my bed, laying my phone down on the blankets beside me. Staring at it while I tried to plan a response in my head, I flexed my fingers, cracking them nervously before I picked it back up and typed out my first message…which would definitely not be my last.

Seven: Told you we weren’t done with our discussion, fourteen.

Hazel

I wasn’t sure howthat smug fucker—number Seven—expected me to get any sleep after that kind of text. It was bad enough I had escaped back to my apartment all wound up after Reid discovered my dirty little secret. Now I had to figure out how to respond to the only bachelor who’d texted me last night. Part of me figured I wouldn’t receive any texts from the bachelors, but I knew if I got one, it’d most likely be from him.

Bachelor Ten had been sweet and funny, making me laugh at several points during our brief conversation, but I hadn’t felt that spark I did with Seven. He’d had my whole body on alert, my pulse racing every time his voice dropped lower, and he’d say something vaguely suggestive.

I knew that wasn’t what the experiment was about. It was supposed to see how we’d react to each other without being able to see each other, but I’d never experienced that kind of instant sexual chemistry with someone. And the rush was a little addictive. Was this why my apartment had been a revolving door of dick for Charley before she settled down with my brother? Was this how other people normally felt around the opposite sex?

It was certainly unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, because the way I felt around Reid was just me being a neurotic mess, not mutual attraction, no matter how much I wished it were. But that interaction with him volunteering to help with my commissions had thrown me too much to respond to Seven last night. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to reply to him when I was thinking about another man.

Another man who would be at my apartment any moment and I was still under the covers wrapped in blankets staring at a sentence that I knew had the possibility to change my life. If only I had the balls to respond to it. Which right now, I did not.

The screen of my phone lit up with a text message and I immediately dropped it, my pulse racing at the idea that either man had texted me while I was having a sleep deprived existential crisis. Nervously glancing at it, I frowned because Christian hadn’t texted me in months.

Christian: What are you up to today? I've got classes all day, but I'm looking forward to catching up with you.

It seemed innocuous enough, but I didn’t have space in my brain to decipher the intentions of another man, so I just laid it back down and ignored it.

Right now, I had to get my shit together because I looked as if a hibernating squirrel had taken up residence in the messy bun on the top of my head. And if I didn’t fix it soon, Reid would get an up-close viewing of how much of a hot mess I was.

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