Page 70 of Feverburn

“I was thinking, I kinda love how you’re all outdoorsy and shit. You don’t rot in front of an Xbox or at a golf course all weekend. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I like the whole hunting and fishing thing. More than I expected.”

“I gotta live up to my middle name.” He shot me a wink and turned to the water to rinse off.

“Wait, what’s your middle name?”

He turned back towards me, his tan skin splattered in dew drops. His eyes set in a soulful squint, “Theron, it means hunter in Greek,” heexplained. Considering how he chased me through the forest and always found me in a crowd, I’d say he was living up to the namesake just fine. “And if I remember right, when I looked at your mail, your last name is Hayes.” He cracked a grin, avoiding my playful shove.

“You’reshameless!”

“It’s true. Do you have a middle name?”

“Nope. My mom said nothing ever came to her.”

“Well, Roisin, I like that.” He said, stepping out to wrap a towel low on his hips. “It leaves room for additional names.”

And with that, he left me stunned in the shower alone.

He wore lounge pants, knowing I could see his dick, just like last night. To equally torment him, I wore the same flannel as a dress since my solstice sundress was still drying from the wash. Making our way downstairs, Carson entered one of the spare rooms and returned with an armful of art supplies. He set sketchbooks, charcoal, and colored pencils down on the coffee table, a lightness filling his energy.

I stared wearily at the sketchbook,gratefulKiszka wanted pets so I had something to do with my hands. I hadn’t sketched in years. The artist in me died that day, snuffed out and seared like the skin on my body.

Carson gestured at the table, “I was thinking we could listen to some music and sketch.”

I sucked in a breath, my voice barely a whisper,“I don’t do that anymore. I haven’t since the branding. When Dane asked for his tattoo, I only said yes because he gave me a photo I needed to replicate. It took zero creativity on my end.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he sat across from me.“That’s a long time to be…without. Without, I don’t know, a funnel?”

I rested my head on Kizzy’s, hugging him from behind as I twisted his fur nervously. I already feltnakedwith Carson, and not just in the physical sense but emotionally. Even spiritually, he tapped into a part of my soul no one else had. Like my dreams of him and how he could sense I was around. This was going to push it even further. It was simply too much for me to handle.

“I, Carson, I can’t—”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t think about how this might hurt you. I thought you still did art inprivate.”One large hand began to close the sketchbook, triggering something in my mind.

“But I want you to. Maybe I could watch you? Kind of ease into it.”

Kiszka ruffed, adding to my request, liking the idea. Carson eyed both of us.“Okay, yeah.”

“Draw me like one of your French girls,”I teased, quoting the movieTitanic.

His mouth set in a sexy smile as he tilted his head, running with the idea.“Yeah, I think I might. If you’re offering that is...”My whole body buzzed with a resoundingyes.But all I could do was smile back at him. He jutted his jaw at me.“Lay right there.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Meeting his gaze once more, I realized he wasn’t joking. “Right here?”I asked, pointing to the deep sectional I was sitting on the edge of. It was U-shaped, and he was across from me.

His lips curled before he took a sip of his drink in answer. The whiskey matched the flecks in his hazel eyes. The sunlight on the lake lit him up, leaving me backlit in the shadow of the couch. He clicked a remote until music filled the cabin from speakers high on the ceiling. Low classic rock floated in the cabin air, making it more relaxing and not so echo-y. I took a long drink of my water and then a sip of my wine. Standing up, Kiszka looked up at me in confusion. Carson said something in Greek, making him curl up over by him.

I unbuttoned the flannel, dropping it behind me on the couch. Carson’s eyes raked up and down my body, not hiding his gaze. He blinked slowly in his lusty fog as I ran my hands over my thighs and hips. Maybe I imagined it, but my skin was even softer after being with him.

The thrill of him watching emboldened me. My hands traveled over my ribs and breasts, which jiggled under the pull of my palm. Then I roamed downwards, grazing the tiny patch of hair between my legs that was just as soft. Carson’s nostrils flared ever so slightly while he sucked in a hopeful breath. Sensing he was in mytrap, I whooshed my curls to the front of me, twirling a strand around my finger.“I will sit, but you can’t touch.”

He nodded, sweeping his tongue over his lips before pulling himself together enough to situate the sketchbook on his lap.“Be glad this thing is thick cardboard,”he mumbled.

I situated a dark gray blanket beneath me and rested on my side, propping my head up with my hand. My other hand relaxed on my top hip. I felt beautiful, powerful, and trusting, realizing I wasnakedin a cabin in the middle of nowhere in Maine, letting a guy draw menaked. We had known each other for months, but it still feltvulnerable.

“You look beautiful.”Carson’s eyes gleamed in admiration before flicking down to his sketchpad.“Like theperfectmuse. You can rest your arm, sweetheart. I’m drawing your chest first.”

I snorted. “Right, of course. The boobs are your favorite.”

He pinned me with a look over his sketchbook.“It’s where yourheartis.”

---