"I thought you weren't going back to Kelso's." His arms drop first to his sides, and then he brings his hands to his hips and stares at me.
"Of course I am, why wouldn't I?"
"Because it isn't safe. I'm telling you. If he gets you alone, there's no telling what he'd do to someone as hot as you."
"How naive do you think I am?" I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You don't know him. I do."
"Look, the creep is still away in Florida anyway."
"He won't be there forever. Walk away before something happens."
"It's fine, stop trying to stop me going. I am going. End of story. This is a job, and I am doing it."
"I'm going to get you an assistant."
"No way, no how."
Lawson lets out a long, drawn out sigh. I expect him to do something: touch me, hug me, something, but all he does is stand with his hands on his hips, holding my gaze in his.
I swallow. Part of me is on the verge of falling into line and doing what he wants. From somewhere within me, I find the ability to tear my eyes away from his. They fall on my half-finished paintings and the resolve to carry on at Kelso's rages back through me.
I throw my smock over the dress I'm still wearing from Friday, and start preparing my paints. Lawson leans on the windowsill, watching me.
"I should paint."
"Can I watch?"
"That's fine with me." When I'm creating, the whole world drops away. It used to drive my mother crazy that I'd never hear her calling me; she'd have to come and physically touch me to get my attention. It was the same for my teachers and classmates in college.
Ava has it marginally better, she only has to walk in into the room, instead of touching me. Part of me sees that as I sign I'm losing my ability to focus.
Now, with Lawson in the room, I struggle to find any focus at all. Not willing to make mistakes, I put everything down and rip off my smock in frustration.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"You distract me. I can't focus." My voice is playful. I like having him here, even if he does try to tell me what to do. But I have to finish these paintings so I can start generating ideas for the next ones.
Ava told me Gordon had another new inquiry for my work, from a couple all the way in Texas. I've completely neglected my blog since I moved to California, so it's a wonder they found me.
What I really need to do is sketch out all the other paintings for Kelso's so I can minimize my time there.
Lawson moves to my side, drawing me against him. "I have to get home and do some work. You've been distracting me from it all weekend."
I look up at him and smile. He leans and kisses me. When our kiss deepens, I break away. If we carry on, we're not going to stop.
Chapter Twenty
Giving Orders (Lawson)
Kelso is a piece of trash. I don't trust him for one second with Skye in the same house as him. She might think she's safe, but I know she isn't.
I've offloaded all my meetings for the day on my senior executives. There's no way I'm about to let anything happen to her.
My Range Rover is quiet as it coasts up Kelso's driveway. I pull it out of the way to the side of his house and cut the engine.
Skye's banger is here, along with a handful of workers' trucks. How trustworthy are his workers? Is Skye safe with them here? She might not want an assistant, but she has one for the day: me.
The front door is ajar, a nice side effect of the workers going in and out all day.
I step inside, but the entrance is empty. The easel with Skye's half-finished painting is in the same spot, but there's no sign of her. No paints or supplies are laid out.
Watching for workers, I duck in and out of the ground floor rooms, looking for her.
The rooms are all in various stages of being finished. Shaking my head, I take out my phone and snap some photos. This is just further proof of his uselessness as a contractor. What kind of man can't even get his own damn house finished? He's been building it for two years now.
His office is the last room I check. Still no sign of Skye. I'm tempted to start rifling through his papers, but right now the most important thing is to find her and make sure she's safe.
Dodging workmen, I make my way up the staircase, which is clearly based on my Madrid hotel. Madrid's was the first hotel I used architects that weren't following Kelso's design. I should take a picture - could anything be more telling about his incompetence?
Making sure I don't run into any workmen, I nudge open a set of double doors. Skye is standing beside a round bed, absorbed in her painting. A round bed? Seriously, Kelso?
I enter the room and shut the doors behind me.
"Hey," I say.
Startled, she jumps. I close the distance between us and put my hand on her back, calming her.
"You scared the fuck out of me."
"You're lucky it's just me, and not Kelso."
She rolls her eyes. "Is that why you came here?"
Skye says something else, but I don't hear. I'm too busy looking at her painting.
"What the fuck is that?"
"The painting Kelso wants for his bedroom."
"It's a pussy."
She shrugs. "It's what he wanted."
"I can't fucking believe he's making you paint that smut."
"Look at the rest of the bedroom, it fits right in."
"I don't care. You shouldn't be painting it, it's a waste of your abilities."
I close the distance between us. Her bright eyes flick over me in my suit. I'm close enough now to smell her floral shampoo through the paint. As outrageous as the painting is, seeing Skye painting something so erotic does something to me. She's been thinking about pussy all day, and now all I can think of is hers.
Taking the brush from her hand, I set it on her wooden tray. She's wearing a smock that's covered in paint. Fuck the eight thousand dollar custom-made Italian cut suit. I grab the back of her hair and pull her to my lips.
The tension in her body melts from my touch. I want to hear her moaning and begging when I make her come so hard she'll forget where she is.
I step back from her, paint now marking my suit.
"Strip." I capture her eyes in mine, unrelenting.
Her eyes widen. "But, here?"
I remain motionless, my eyes penetrating hers. She blinks, and as she looks at me, a wave of understanding washes over them.
"I see, it's the prick here today," she says, circling her finger around the button of my dress shirt.
I smirk and say, "Yeah, the prick you'll be thanking after I get through with you."
"Oh will I?" She can't contain her huge smile.
"Strip." I'm not telling her again.
"Yes, sir." The sound of the word coming off her tongue flickers across my skin, sparking my dick to life.
I stand, watching, as Skye takes off her smock, followed by her tight t-shirt underneath. Her pink bra pushes up her tits. The tops of them jiggle as she moves, mesmerizing me.
After she sheds her pants, she stands still while my eyes rove over her. Her bra and panties accentuate the perfect curves of her body. I reach out and run my hands over her, my dick straining the seams of my suit pants. Enough.
Skye gasps as I shove her back against the wall. One of my hands grips her tit, the other grips her chin and angles her face to mine. My lips crush against hers, forcing her mouth to submit as I push my tongue into her, tasting her sweetness.
I work my hand into her bra. Her nipple is already a hard nub, I pinch it hard between my fingers, forcing a high-pitched moan from her throat.
Still wearing my suit, I grind my cock against her.
I break our kiss to say, "See what you do to me?"
Her skin is soft under my fingertips, and they roam lower and lower. I reach her panties and slide my hand underneath the cottony fabric. She's dripping wet already. I love it.
I feel through her silky folds, teasing her entrance with the tip of my finger. I take it away and find her clit, rolling it between my fingertips until she melts against the wall. My body pressing, grinding into her is the only reason she hasn't crumpled to the floor.
"Your pussy is way hotter than the one you're painting."
Skye gasps, her hands clutch at my clothes. I grab her hands and pin her arms against the wall. Our mouths collide, tongues and lips coming together. She tastes so fucking good, I can't resist sucking her bottom lip between my teeth.
I trail kisses across her cheek and down the tender flesh of her neck. I'm overcome with the need to brand her. Sinking my teeth into the soft flesh at the base of her neck and suck, marking her as mine.
It spurs me on; I adjust her hands, pinning them lower, and kiss down her front. The ripeness of her tits beg to be claimed, and I bite my way across them.
Releasing her arms, I yank her bra down, her tits bouncing from the movement. It lures me, I grab one in each hand and flick my tongue over her hard pearls.
Fueled with want, I rip off her panties. My dick can't take any more. I spin her around, pinning her face-first against the wall. With one motion, I spring my cock free and spread her lips. I only want a teaser; a taste to ease my need.