Chapter 5
After spending almost the entire day in bed in a state of Tantric ecstasy, Sasha didn’t want to move a muscle.
“Are you sure we have to get up?” she asked.
“We should at least make an appearance today,” he said.
She rolled onto her side. As he pulled on his clothes, she lamented the loss. He shouldn’t even be allowed to wear clothes. Talk about a crime against humanity. His chiseled arm muscles and rippling abs should be on display, like a modern-day David. Oh well, maybe she’d get to see him—all of him—again later.
“Are you going to work on your project today?” he asked.
“Yes. I have a date with my clay.”
“Should I be jealous?” he asked with a sexy grin.
“Maybe.”
When she slid out of bed, he stopped to rake his gaze across her body.
“Hmm, now I’m reconsidering my position,” he said.
“And which position would that be?” she asked.
His slow, sensual smile sent waves of wanton heat straight to her core. She padded across the room. When she reached him, she slid her fingers across his abs. She traced every ripple and curve until her fingers tingled with tactile memory. The spark of an idea took hold as she considered his perfection. Maybe he deserved to be rendered in clay.
“If you keep touching me like that, we’ll never get anything done,” he murmured.
“I know.”
She stood on tiptoes to kiss his rugged lips. He cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand as he consumed her with a scorching kiss.
“I’ll see you at dinner?” he asked.
“I may take a break to come out and see your sculpture,” she said.
“I’d love that,” he said.
As he released her, she sighed. He strolled toward the door and gave her a sizzling look before disappearing into the hall. She waited a few minutes to follow. Although she’d loved every minute she’d spent in his bed, she needed a shower and fresh clothes.
After sneaking into her room, she reluctantly washed his scent from her body. Her bear grumbled at the loss, but the mind-blowing sex had been enough to keep her satiated—for now.
She got dressed, and then hauled a twenty-pound block of clay onto the work table near her window. Movement outside caught her attention. She peeked out to find Jack standing halfway between the B&B and the barn. He waved. She smiled while returning the gesture. He turned and strolled through the snow. She watched him until he disappeared into the barn.
What a sexy, intriguing man. They’d talked for hours in between their passionate bouts of lovemaking. He’d traveled the world and knew so much about other cultures. She’d listened to his low, gravelly voice until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. But she had to stop obsessing about him. He wasn’t interested in a committed relationship. He’d been perfectly clear about that fact and she had no right to expect more from him.
She turned to regard the clay. Did she even have the right to mold it into an approximation of him? Would casting a permanent memory of him do her any good? She always kept photos of her work, but in this case, wouldn’t holding onto him hurt in the long run?
She sighed as she grabbed a bowl from her tool kit. After filling it with water, she returned to the table. Come hell or high water, she had to get this piece done. Maybe she wouldn’t complete an exact replica of Jack, but she could still use him as inspiration.
As she molded the gray clay into an approximation of a human form, she ran through a variety of options for making the piece unique. She couldn’t just create a man. Mrs. Bran would expect a more intricate piece. But what could she do?
Stumped, she slid her fingers across the block. As she kneaded and worked the clay, the magic of creation took over. She didn’t stop molding the cool clay until she’d formed the head and torso of a man. The careful manipulation took hours to complete, and although she hadn’t fully worked out where she was headed with the piece, it was at least taking some kind of form.
As she swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, her stomach growled. She couldn’t ignore the hunger pangs anymore, so she cleaned up the workspace. She headed downstairs and found Madison in the kitchen. Her hostess shoved a tray of raw biscuits into the oven before turning to greet her.
“Hey, hon,” Madison said. “I was considering sending a search party up for you.”
“I’m finally making some progress on my project,” Sasha said.
“Great. What are you creating?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, but I think it’s going to be a statue of a man.”
“Really?” Madison asked. “Anyone in particular?”