Page 39 of Seducing Cinderella

Don’t you trust me?

Did he? Art was extremely personal and something as intimate as this—the way she looked to him when they made love—was even more so. She had every right to be offended, even if they were the only people who would ever see it. It was still a liberty he’d taken without her permission.

He’d like to think he didn’t know what had possessed him to do something as crazy as sketch a nude of Lucie, but he’d be lying to himself. Something about her—about the way he felt when he was with her—had resurrected his creative side from its years of slumber. Enough to where he’d called different art studios until he’d found a guy who’d been willing to let him use some space and supplies for a couple of days in exchange for some tickets to his upcoming fight.

Andthiswas what he’d been inspired to create.

So whether he trusted her to receive it as the gift it was meant to be or not didn’t really matter, because keeping it hidden from her like a dirty little secret was out of the question. There was no backing down now.No guts, no glory.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against her shoulders, then let it out slowly. “Okay,” he said, lowering his hand. “Open your eyes.”

Lucie gasped softly before covering her mouth with her fingers and whispering, “Oh, my God.”

Whether it was a good “Oh, my God” or a bad one, he couldn’t yet tell. He hoped like hell it was the former.

Though he knew every stroke by heart, he studied the drawing and tried to view it through her eyes. Charcoal lines and curves depicted her on a chaise in the throes of passion, her back arched, her head turned to the side with hair spilling over the edge of the cushion. Her right leg hung off the couch, the ball of her foot planted on the floor for leverage. The other bent sharply at the knee, her toes pointed and raised several inches. Stretching down her body, her right hand disappeared between tight thighs, while her left hand reached across and caged her right breast, the turgid nipple peeking out between spread fingers.

His favorite part was her face.

Thick bangs partially covered her brow and the way it always furrowed when she experienced a burst of pleasure. With eyes closed, her eyelashes laid elegantly above slightly flushed cheeks in their wispy spikes. Her mouth was full, her kiss-swollen lips barely parted as though a gasp had just broken their seal. And the heart-shaped freckle sat at the corner of her eye. A tiny detail most people might not notice if it was missing, but to him it was the difference between it being any other woman and beingLucie.

He came back to himself when she took slow steps toward the canvas as though mesmerized. As she continued to take in the picture like she would at an art museum, he stood at the light’s edge with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and did the same with her.

Tonight she’d donned a pretty, bright pink sundress with spaghetti straps. The bodice fit her like a glove, nipping in at her small waist and draping over the small flare of her hips with the flowy hem dancing at midthigh with every move she made.

“Reid, I…” She trailed off, and he feared the worst.

“What do you think? It’s okay; you can tell me the truth.”

She looked over her shoulder with tears in her eyes.

“It’s magnificent. You’re remarkably talented,” she said, turning her attention back to the drawing. “You made me…” She took a deep breath and released it on a shaky exhale. “…beautiful.”

His steps echoed in the sparse room as he crossed the few feet to turn her and hold her in his arms. One hand framed her face and wiped away a single tear that trickled over her cheek. “That’s where you’re dead wrong, sweetheart. It took me several tries before I came even close to capturing your beauty.”

She smiled wanly. “You’re sweet to say so, but in a million years I could never look like that.”

Lightning flashed through the room with a clap of thunder, and rain began striking a discordant song on the window behind him. The storm seemed to be escalating along with his frustration.

Reid wanted to choke every person who’d ever made this woman feel less than the incredible creature she was. Not only was she every bit as gorgeous as she was in his drawing, but everything about her—humor, awkwardness, klutziness, compassion, dedication—all of it, made her far superior to any woman he’d known.

He was about to tell her exactly that when she added, “I mean, come on. If I looked likethat, I’d have Stephen wrapped around my little finger.”

…

Temporary insanity.

That was the only thing she could think of as to why she would say something so incredibly insensitive to Reid.

It didn’t matter that half of their situation was her mission to end up with another man, and that he had no emotional stakes in their anomalous relationship. Reid had given her a special part of himself by creating this amazing work of art for her—ofher—and she’d just slapped him in the face by bringing Stephen into their night with the mention of his name.

She saw the tempest of his anger roll across his eyes, the muscles in his jaw flexing several times as though trying to prevent himself from unleashing his thoughts that were no doubt things that would make her cringe, and yet nothing she wouldn’t deserve.

“Reid, I’m so sorry, I—”

He didn’t wait for the rest but spun on his heel and slammed through the door into the storm outside. She chased after him, stopping just outside the studio to see him eating up the pavement toward the street, his suit shirt already half-soaked.

“Reid, wait, come back!”

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