Page 420 of The First Time
"Old at twenty-six?"
"Ancient." He pulls my backpack off my shoulders and sets it next to the couch. "Your shoulders aching from carrying that thing around?" He runs his finger up my arm.
Desire courses through me. Those are some amazing fingers. I clear my throat, getting ahold of my senses. "More like my neck."
He rubs my neck with his palm. Traces the neckline of my tank top with his other hand. "I don't like you wearing that to class."
"Would you feel better if I wroteProperty of Blake Sterlingon it?"
"Yes." He presses his lips against my neck. "But I don't suppose you're offering."
"Well, maybe if I hadn't bought the tank top."
He laughs. It's a hearty laugh. Ever since we flew to Paris together, I've heard a lot of that laugh.
I hear it every day and it still makes me melt. It's still the sweetest sound in the whole damn world.
He presses his lips to my neck and lets out a low groan.
Okay. That sound is a close second. A very, very close second.
I take a sip of my champagne. Sweet, fruity bubbles slide down my throat. Damn. It's good. I finish my glass with one long swig.
Blake places it on the coffee table. He brushes the messy hair from my eyes. "I got you something."
I fight my urge to clap. Surprise presents are always such a nice, well, surprise. "Let me see."
He laughs. His grin is ear to ear. His eyes crinkle. His cheek dimples. He shakes his head like I'm just so ridiculous, and he grabs a wrapped present from the bookshelf.
He hands it to me. "You'll like it."
"You're not supposed to say that."
"You're not supposed to saylet me see."
"Oh, using my own words against me, are you?" I pull the wrapping off the present. It's a graphic novel.Falling Petals. The same thing I titled my portfolio project. And the cover image is one of my drawings. A self-portrait.
Right there where the author name is supposed to go it saysKat Wilder.
Shit. I'm the author. This is my portfolio project, the latest version of it.
"It's a mockup," he says. "You do like it?"
My jaw must be hanging open. It's a mockup of my portfolio project, and it looks like a real graphic novel. It looks amazing.
I flip through the pages. It's laid out perfectly. Each vignette is shaded with a different color and each one is just right, as vivid or muted as it was in my original drawing.
I let out all the air in my lungs. "I love it."
"It's meant to inspire you."
He picks at the pages, flipping to the vignette about Blake, well, inspired by Blake. It's all technically fiction.
He flips right to a page where the two characters are about to have sex. "I know it inspires me."
"Pervert."
Blake points to the panel at the bottom of the page—the one where the bedroom door shuts. "Cruel of you not to let your readers see what happens."
