Page 6 of Husband Material
Her words reminded me of what I'd heard about how artists developed not just an eye for detail, but for people too. For seeing beneath the façade and finding the truth the faces might tell.
"Doesn't your artist's eye tell you?" My question came out harsher than I intended.
Another smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she bit her bottom lip. "Yeah…so I think you are not."
"Polite to a fault? Unfortunately, not. It's why I don't always get by so well here."
"Then why do you stay?"
I shrugged. "It's home. It's all I know. I've travelled, sure, but I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere else."
"But you don't feel like you belong here either."
A few beats of awkward silence. Then, seeming to believe she'd said something she shouldn't have, she bit her lip again and said, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry."
Right now, Giselle's words were like addicting stabs. I wanted to see how deep they could cut me before I bled.
"Tell me. Look and tell me. Tell me what you see."
The startling intensity of her eyes made me almost want to avert my gaze. But looking iris-deep into them, I'd swear they weren't just the melted-chocolate color I'd noticed at first, but layers upon layers of browns, sparkling with passion that stirred me up and put fear into me at the same time.
"Tell me," I urged, her silent stance suggesting she was considering it. "I can handle it, Giselle."
Once again, our eyes met, and a shock of electric sensation zapped right through me.
She shook her head. "I don't know. It's better when I don't only look, but also"—her head tipped down—"touch too."
My cock heard her again, too, although I did my best to stifle it. The last thing I needed right now was to be flashing an erection while she had her attention fixed on me so diligently.
"That's fine," I told her.
She nodded, her eyes closing as her hands neared my face. Her fingertips gently slid up to my eyelids.
"Eyes closed for you too, Gage. It is easier."
I closed my eyes. Her hands started out on the rigid plane of my forehead, feeling out the strong brow bone my dad always used to boast about. Then they swept down, over my eyebrows. "You are a hard man. Closed off," she said softly, without a trace of judgment.
Cassidy said the same thing.
Even though I'd heard itmanytimes before, coming from Giselle it didn't have the same sting.
Her hands swept down to my cheekbones.
"Proud."
My faults were being revealed one by one underneath her busy fingers. Why couldn't she spot anything good? This subconscious bullshit was probably only revealing the many negatives she guessed about me. By now, Giselle probably had me pegged as a cocky, unfeeling, rich boy who wasn't interested in anything more than getting laid.
It's true though.
When her fingers swept down around my eyes, however, she paused. "Sad." The word came out, softly, a little unwillingly.
My eyes snapped open as I ripped my face away from her hands.
Giselle blinked at me, as if startled from a deep trance. Her cheeks were now beet red.
"Sorry," she said again.
