Page 38 of Yearning For Her

With Kian see them now, she felt vulnerable.

Kian turned to face her, eyes smoldering. “I think we’re well past the point of being strangers, aren’t we?”

“I still don’t know you, Kian. Having sex with you doesn’t make you any less of a stranger. And knowing you’re a…a fae, makes you all the more mysterious to me.”

“Mystery creates excitement.” He gently brushed the backs of his fingers along the photo on display. “Hence the appeal of lingerie. So much revealed, yet still so much left to the imagination. Still so much to wonder about. And even after having you, Willow, I know I’ve discovered only a sliver of your body’s secrets.”

He turned another page and caught his pierced lip with a fang. “Gods, this is enough to drive me mad.”

Willow realized quite suddenly that he wasn’t kidding. His snug pants left little to the imagination—especially when it came to his hard cock, which was pinned along his thigh. A hollow ache formed in her core as she recalled the feel of that thick shaft inside her. She squeezed her thighs together. Had it really been three weeks since their night together? It felt like much, much longer.

Kian chuckled and slyly glanced at her. “I can’t wait for you to wear something like this for me, Violet.”

“You’re so sure that’s going to happen?”

“Oh, I am.” He stepped closer, locking his eyes with hers. “I’m also sure that you want it to happen.”

Fully aware that her body’s reaction was giving her away—and that he could feel her desire regardless—Willow took another drink of her coffee. There was no point in trying to deny the truth.

Without breaking eye contact, Kian snapped open the album’s metal rings and removed a photo, protective sleeve and all.

Her brow creased. “What are you doing?”

The rings snapped closed with a piercing finality. “Taking a keepsake. Let’s call it…artistic inspiration.” Shutting the photo album, he returned it to the bookcase. Then he removed the photo from its sleeve, turned it around, and slid it back in with the image facing the thin cardboard backing. “For my eyes only.”

Willow stared at the sleeve containing the picture, cheeks ablaze, fingers itching to snatch it away.

But she didn’t. She knew there’d be no use fighting him or demanding he return it. When dealing with a paranormal entity, it was probably best to choose one’s battles.

“What are your plans for the day, my Willow?” he asked nonchalantly, as though this whole thing hadn’t affected him at all.

“I have a couple clients coming for private photo sessions later.”

“So you’re a photographer, then?”

She nodded. “I, uh…” Willow gestured to the photo album. “I specialize in boudoir.”

His smile took on that roguish slant. “Did you take those yourself?”

Why did he have to look so sinfully beautiful? “No, those were taken a few years ago by someone else.” She pressed her lips together and tapped a finger against her cup, uncertain of why she was about to ask him her next question, but it slipped out anyway. “Would you…like to see my studio?”

“Very much.”

“You would?” she said with more than a little bit of surprise. “I mean, okay. Um, follow me.”

Willow led Kian back into the kitchen, where she set the coffee on the table beside the muffin. She continued into the laundry room, opened the back door, and let Kian step outside before her. As she closed the door, she found herself nudging the cats back inside with her foot.

She frowned. Normally, they never tried to make a break for it, but they were still so fixated upon Kian…

The cool morning air made her skin pebble beneath her blouse. Her yard was decent sized, with an array of plants and flowers in small garden beds, tiered pots, and hanging planters dangling from the patio overhang.

But most of the yard was dominated by the workshop she’d converted into a studio, its exterior painted dark gray with white trim and shutters to match the house.

Willow briefly met Kian’s gaze, offering him a smile, before nervously following the stone path to the building’s entrance. She opened the door, stepped inside, and waited for Kian.

He swept through, head turning from side to side as he took in her studio. She tried to see it through his eyes, tried to find all the things of which he might disapprove, the things he might find tacky or ugly. All the clothing she’d seen him wear looked high-quality, tailored perfectly for his frame. Even if he leaned heavily goth in his style, his tastes seemed rather…sophisticated.

All the more wonder that he’s interested in me…

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