Pushing the Limits(39)

The room is eerily silent, all focus and attention on her. I wish I  could remove the image of her from their memories, pretend she was never  here at all, but for a first-time nude model, she's holding her own  quite well.

As I'm working on the shading, I feel a soft tap on my shoulder and turn  to see Aunt Mel standing behind me. Her face is lit up as she glances  around the room, watching people finishing up their drawings.

"Isn't she doing great?" she whispers, leaning down next to my ear.

I swallow, glancing away from my sketchpad. "Yes. What happened to the other model?"

"She got sick but is feeling better. She should be able to do the next rotation."

Oh, thank fucking God.

I was about to have an ulcer at the thought of another group of fifty people watching Aspen.

"How did you rope her into doing it last minute?" I ask casually, hoping she doesn't sense my irritability.         

     



 

"Oh, I didn't. She volunteered." She smiles and my jaw ticks again.

Of course she did.





ASPEN



My heart is thumping so hard in my chest that I have to talk myself down before I have an anxiety attack.

The room is silent except for the scratch of charcoal and lead rubbing  against the thick paper. Their eyes are concentrated and focused,  drawing the lines and angles of my body. Their hands move rapidly as  they outline my features and create a piece of me-the outside piece.

The strong-willed, fierce, put-together me.

Ellie stares at me with wide eyes. I can tell the corner of her lips are  pulled into a cheeky grin. I hadn't planned for this at all, so I can  only imagine what's roaming around in her head. I chance a quick look  over to Morgan and notice him staring at me. He hasn't moved, and I'm  not even sure if he's blinked since I sat down. I know he's probably the  most shocked of us all.

But then his eyes soften and those deep dimples reappear. His pencil  moves across the paper as he looks back and forth from the paper and me.  He's not just drawing the lines and angles of my body. I can tell from  his expression that he sees something more than every other person here.  He sees right through me, down to every flaw and insecurity.

His body is angled toward me, more than the other artists in here. His  back isn't slouched and his ankles aren't carelessly crossed. His stance  is strong and defensive. He's on guard as if he's trying to control his  thoughts and actions, and knowing people can't see him react to me.

He's hardly in control at all.

I can't help the thrill that jolts through me knowing he's watching me,  drawing his interpretation of me. He's all I've been able to think about  all semester, so after kissing him twice, my body is ready to explode.  His lips, his hands, his eyes-they're all magnetic to mine.

I wanted him to see the real me-the person I try to hide from everyone  else. But I don't know that I can. After just the small taste of  heartache over his deception, I'm not sure I'm capable of ever being  that person.

But just when I thought I found someone I'd at least want to try with, he goes and takes it away from me.





I exhale a breath of relief as I slip the robe back on and tie it around  my waist. I silently walk out and head to the back room to dress. The  other model is in there already, sucking down a bottle of water.

"Thanks for taking my place," she says with a sincere smile. "I forgot to eat and the nerves just got to me."

"Oh, no worries. I can definitely understand the nerves part. I'd never  done that before." The adrenaline is still pumping through my body.

"It definitely gives you a high feeling," she admits. "But it looks like you did great."

"Thanks. I'm ready to go and hide now. At least a dozen of my classmates  is out there." I blush just thinking about it. I may put on a brave  face when I'm out with friends and flirting with random guys, but that's  with alcohol buzzing through me.

I sat naked in front of strangers completely sober.

I sat naked in front of Morgan.

I swallow and exhale, needing to slow my racing heartbeat.

"Well, you did great. Be proud." She winks and begins taking her clothes off.

"Oh, you probably need the robe."

Apparently, we're just going to undress and re-dress right here.

I hand her the robe and grab my clothes, quickly putting them back on.  I've already embarrassed myself enough. I don't need to draw out the  process.

"Good luck!" I say as she walks out.

Thank God that's over. I sigh.

I hear the door open and close again and when I turn around, I'm face to face with Professor Hampton.

"Can I help you?" I take a step back and cross my arms.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hisses, reaching for my arm and pulling me to him.

"Oh, are we speaking now? You have to let me know considering we're always on your terms."

"Cut the shit, Aspen. I'm not playing." He clenches his teeth.

"Neither am I! One minute you're all over me, the next you're walking  away as if nothing happened. I can't keep up, Professor! So tell me what  it is you want now."

He stares at me with intense eyes, his jaw tense and body pressed firmly  against the door. I see his chest moving rapidly up and down as he  contemplates his next move.

He pushes off the back of the door, lunging toward me. His eyes are  fixed on mine as he wraps a hand behind my neck and pulls us together.  His other hand squeezes my hip as his mouth covers mine in a heated  frenzy of lips and tongues. I lean into his chest as he pulls my bottom  lip in between his teeth.         

     



 

A strangled moan releases from the back of my throat as I try to catch  my breath. My arms wrap aggressively around him, pulling him as close to  me as possible. His hand squeezes my neck slightly, tilting my head up  toward him more. He takes a few steps until my back is pressed against  the other wall. I feel him against me-all toned muscles and tight  features. I feel the hard bulge in his pants as he rolls his hips  against mine. My body tilts up to greet his, wanting to feed the carnal  desire within me. He groans and pushes into me harder, making me clench  my thighs at how wet my panties are feeling.

Ms. Jones' voice echoes in my head about Natalia-about him having a  girlfriend and leaving after kissing me. Suddenly, the rage builds back  up inside me, and I push my hands against his chest until his lips are  off mine.

We're both panting and staring at each other in frustrated breaths.  Anger fuels me as I remember all the reasons I'm pissed off at him.

I grab my purse and walk out the back door, making sure not to disturb  the group's last session. Everyone is studying the model and their  drawings, their eyes focused and steady. I try my best to silently  leave, but I hear his footsteps behind me.

As soon as I push through the front doors, rain pours down on me and begins soaking through my shirt. Just fucking great.

"Aspen!" he yells from behind me, his feet hitting the wet pavement.

"Go away!" I continue walking down the sidewalk.

"God dammit, would you just stop and listen to me?"

I spin around quickly, the soft hairs that fall out of my ponytail  clinging to my wet face. Before I have time to recover or brush them  away, he wraps a hand around my neck again and pulls me toward him. His  lips cover mine again and my body reacts to him before my brain has time  to catch up.

I step back and push him away again. "You can't just kiss me whenever  you want!" I scream, irritation and desire both fighting for control.

His dark green shirt sticks to his chest like it's painted on him. The  wet strands of his hair drip down over his forehead, and I have to  resist the urge to brush it away.

"Then why did you kiss me back?" he challenges.

"Because I'm an idiot! I don't get involved with men who aren't available. But you led me on … all damn semester!"

He takes a step back and narrows his eyes. "What are you talking about? I  told you I don't have a girlfriend. I've found any possible reason just  to get a few minutes alone with you, crossing all possible boundaries  just to be near you."

"Really? Does the name Natalia ring a bell? Because according to Ms.  Jones, you guys are quite the happy couple," I mock in a condescending  tone. The rain pours down harder on us, drenching us completely.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, amused laugh. It fuels my  rage even deeper at the way he's laughing at me. He thinks this is  fucking funny?

"I'm glad you think this is hilarious. However, I don't have time for  guys like you in my life. Especially ones who treat women like a piece  of meat."

"Oh, I hadn't realized you met my friend, Kettle. You two seem to have a lot in common." His features tighten.

"God! What is wrong with you? Have you inhaled so many paint fumes in  your life that you're unable to function or think clearly?"

"Had you given me a second of your time, I would've explained all of that to you."

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to listen to your bullshit lies when Professor Van-Horny-Pants was draped all over you."