Page 55 of Bear
The surprise on her face is quickly replaced by acceptance, and she nods. I swear her cheeks take on an even deeper pink hue. “Okay.”
I ease myself out from under her, leaving her on her stomach on the couch. After a few minor adjustments to her position, including removing her tattered panties, I move over to the easel, pick up a piece of charcoal, and get to work. I don’t usually draw from life because I prefer what’s in my head. And my art is how I get some of that crazinessout.But in this case, I want to capture Lennon as she is—what I did to her just now and how I made her feel. The bliss of her expression makes everything we’ve been through up to this point worth it. I wonder if she feels the same. Like maybe we’re turning a corner together here, today in this dim attic where I exorcise my demons.
My hand moves quickly over the paper, first capturing a rough outline, then going in to add more details. I stroke the charcoal over the paper, smudging certain spots with my pinkie, defining other areas with sharper lines. I even use a soft eraser to draw the blonde highlights into her hair.
Her body.Jesus.I take my time and get every delicious part of her right, from the slope of her breast to the curve of her hip. A low growl rumbles in my chest as I notice the streaks and smudges of black all over her skin, everywhere I’d put my hands. They’re especially prominent on her ass and thighs from my hands gripping her and holding her pussy to my face. I smirk. I’ll include them in the sketch. She’s quite literally my dirty girl—because I made her that way.
It doesn’t take me long to have a preliminary sketch, and I know I’ll be able to do better work when she’s not mostly naked and still in a semi-aroused state three feet from me.
The entire time I work, she watches me quietly, a soft look of appreciation on her face. With each glance at her, I feel something stir inside. I was such a fucking fool to think that I could ever push her away. I need this girl. Deep in my soul, I know I do.
Once I’m satisfied with what I’ve drawn, I put the charcoal on the tray and turn to her, dusting my hands off. I look from what I’ve drawn to Lennon, rubbing my filthy hand over my heart. There’s something I want to say to her, but I don’t know how to get the words out. My chest is tight with emotion I wasn’t expecting.
“Are you happy with it?”
I drag in a deep breath, tearing my eyes from hers. On paper, she’s radiant. Glowing. So effortlessly sexy. But nothing could ever compare to the real thing. I shake my head before I bring my gaze back to her. Quietly, I murmur, “I could try and try and never come close to you.”
She frowns, pushing herself to a sitting position. “What do you mean?”
I can see I’ve made her nervous and huff out a small laugh, then wet my lips. “It’s you, Kin. You’re the masterpiece. I could draw you all my life, and it’d never be as beautiful as the real thing.”
TWENTY-FIVE
DUKE
Out on the patio,I sit under one of the wide umbrellas and kick my bare feet up, resting them on the table. From behind my sunglasses, I survey the idiocy going on around me. Arik and Quincy have stopped their game of cornhole and are instead pegging each other with the bean bags. Fuckin’ idiots. At least they are smart enough not to have pushed my buttons lately. To my surprise, Warren somehow convinced Maria to show up. She doesn’t come around often, but when she does, she always blesses us with her resting bitch face. I would have thought hanging out in the fancy in-ground spa at one of the most exclusive brotherhoods at Kingston U would loosen whatever stick is up her ass, but apparently not. I don’t claim to understand their relationship, but from the animated conversation over there, she might not stay very long. Those two break up and get back together more than any other couple I know.
My attention is dragged across the pool to where the sophomores plus Tucker have a game of Spades going at another of the patio tables. I’m somewhat following the game—or at least the reactions to the game play—and I swear, that Kai kid is dumber than a box of rocks. Brendan would do well to pick a different partner next time. Tucker and Pierre have absolutely killed them game after game. I’m surprised there’s not more shouting. Maybe they’re not drunk enough. It is only Thursday night, after all.
I pour two fingers of whiskey from the bottle I’d brought out with me, then lift the glass to my lips, letting the expensive liquor slide down my throat. I might be drinking because I’ve had my father breathing down my neck ever since he was here Monday. But it’s cool. My life has been pure mayhem lately, but go ahead, pile on,Dad.Frankly, this fucking auction is worrying me. He’s being very insistent that things are done to their exact specifications. It’s no different than events we’ve held in the past, but I simply hadn’t realized how much the OG members had their hands in every aspect of the planning. They’re managing everything from the chosen sorority girls to the booze and to the ordering of the masks we’re to wear. It fuckin’ sounds like it could easily spin right out of our control, kinda like last year when that one dude from Theta house stripped and jumped into the mud pit with the chicks who were wrestling. It’d taken us for fucking ever to get him out because, well, mud. It’d been a slippery, dirty mess. Obviously, the OGs aren’t willing to risk a repeat of that this year, hence why the entire event is… cleaner. And also why we’re being completely controlled.
My eyes follow Bear as he cuts through the pool’s water like a goddamn machine. He’s been quiet this week, mostly kept to himself. Ever since we witnessed him popping the pills on Monday, he’s been surly. I’m surprised any of the younger brothers are coming anywhere near him, though they are giving him a wide berth.
I know for a fact he’s swimming to allow his shoulder a break. I can’t imagine what practice has been like for him the last couple of days, and my concern is that he’s in real, genuine pain. I’ve seen him take hits on the field that would rattle most people’s bones and loosen their teeth, but he gets up and continues on like it’s nothing. So for this shoulder “tweak” to be bothering him so much that it’s altering his mood and how he interacts with others in the house? I think it’s gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad. A legitimate injury.
In fact, it reminds me of what he was like when he had a shoulder injury when we were in high school. I wanna ask if he’s seen someone about it, if the trainer on staff for the football team is aware because,fuck.He shouldn’t be playing injured. I don’t know if it’s worth bringing up. Tough call to make.
I blow out a breath. And last, but sure as hell not least, Lennon and I have been doing this awkward dance around each other. I’ve tried to get myself to stop fucking looking at her, stop thinking about her. It’s hard, though, because I could swear the little minx hangs around wherever I am as a reminder of what I’m missing out on. Kind of like saying,Fine, you think we made a mistake? I’ll show you…
I’m convinced my hot-as-fuck stepsister is trying to kill me.
Come to think of it, I don’t know where she is right now. I swivel my head to glance up toward her room. The balcony door is open, so maybe she’s up there doing an assignment for one of her classes. Probably has a lollipop stuck in her mouth. My dick immediately twitches at the thought. I wonder if she realizes where the cinnamon ones are coming from that keep appearing on her nightstand. Has she figured out it’s my doing?
I don’t know why I’m even making the gesture, to be honest. A peace offering? An apology? A plea?Please, argue with me and tell me I’m fucking wrong.
But I’ve watched her interactions with Bear—she’s the only one who hasn’t gotten her head bitten off this week—and I think she deserves someone likehim.She doesn’t necessarily need to be taken care of, but she needs someone who caresabout her.There’s a difference.
I huff out a laugh. Someone has to, with the dangerous way she and Mason seem to collide on a semi-regular basis. But those two have a connection as well—they share something she and I couldn’t possibly. So again, I like that for her, despite how crazy it’s gotten around here at times.
All she and I seem to have is the ability to argue at the drop of a hat and an indescribable tension that is constantly set to detonate at the slightest trigger. She couldn’t—shouldn’t—want me. There’s something about her, though, and the more I interact with her, the harder time I’m having. She’s creating a monster. The way I feel about her— I fucking told her we shouldn’t have done what we did. Shouldn’t have touched each other. Shouldn’t have crossed that fucking line. But when I hear myself repeating what I said to her over and over in my head, I don’t know if I believemyselfanymore. I’m close to my breaking point.
Heaving out a sigh, I shake my head and take another swallow of whiskey. Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll figure it out. I’m still trying to shake off the swarm of thoughts in my head when a moment later, my phone alerts me to someone at our front door. I frown hard, wondering who the hell it could be. I consider sending one of the grunts to check but they still don’t have the security code. I bite the bullet and get up, muttering a curse under my breath.
I must not have been as quiet as I thought because Bear pauses midway across the pool and looks at me questioningly. I shrug, my jaw tense. “Someone’s on the front steps. Be right back.” He nods and goes back to work, cutting through the water’s surface with smooth, efficient strokes.
I stride purposefully through the house, irritated at the interruption. As I approach the door, my steps slow, and I don’t know why, but I get an awful feeling of foreboding. Unwilling to open the door without knowing who is on the other side, I cautiously look out the window next to the door. My eyes narrow at first, but then I blink, my eyes immediately widening.Oh fuck. No.My gut clenches with the realization of who stands on the other side.
Hunter Mikaelson. The prick wears a pair of dress pants, a button-down shirt with the collar open, and a shit-eating grin—as if he knows the chaos he’s about to bring down on this house if his brother finds out he’s at our door. With my head spinning, I take a few deep breaths.Mason, for once, I don’t care. Stay up in that attic as long as you want, buddy.
