Overlooked(2)(33)

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 in and kisses me. When our kiss deepens, I break away. If we carry on, we’re not going to stop.





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 on the main floor. 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 hotel was the first one I had architects who 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 head 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. I remove my suit jacket and drape it over the bed.

“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.