Drawn Together
Page 32
“You’ve got a great deal of talent.”
“I’m okay.”
“Prolific too.” He indicated the multiple shelves.
“This is all of them. You know, since I was twelve or so. Some of the earlier ones . . . they didn’t . . . I didn’t keep those.”
“How long have you been drawing?” He led her to the sliders and then out onto the deck. The traffic in the distance was a hum, but not annoyingly so.
“Since I was six or so. We should go.”
“Your only appointment is me. And I’m right here. You’re my only appointment. No rush. Why weren’t you able to keep the ones from before you were twelve?”
“They didn’t let you bring a lot. When you moved to a new place. Later I started keeping them at school, or in my great-grandmother’s shed. But I didn’t know much the earlier years.”
He touched her then, sliding a hand through her hair, which she’d left loose around her face. “Awfully young to have to learn stuff like that. Did you lose her then? Your great-grandmother?”
“She lived until she was a hundred and one. But she”—her voice thinned but didn’t quite break—“she couldn’t care for me after I turned three. She had several strokes and she couldn’t get around well.”
“I’m sorry. Your mother?”
“Couldn’t be bothered. We should go.”
“You keep saying that. I want to know more.”
“Fuck off!” She wrenched herself back, eyes flashing. “I’m not a reality television show. I’m not your dancing monkey.”
“I never said you were. People share, that’s how they build relationships. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know you.”
She hated how he stood there so f**king calm after he’d rooted through her memories that way. Hated too that the way he’d touched her had calmed her, how hard she’d had to fight the desire to lean in and take comfort.
“So let’s get to know you then.”
“Go on. Ask. I’ve answered all the questions you’ve asked.”
She blew out a breath and tried to go back into her place but he stood there looking so reasonable she wanted to kick him in the balls.
“Look, I said I wouldn’t f**k anyone else while I was with you. But that doesn’t mean you get a full pass into my life. Into my memories. It sucked. Growing up the way I did sucked. It was horrible and I don’t want to talk about it for a reason. You didn’t grow up like that so I get how it’s a story to you, but it happened to me. It happened to me and I’m not giving it to you on demand.”
He moved to her slowly, but he kept moving until he’d gathered her up against his chest, holding her tight.
“I’m sorry.”
She hated how he got to her. Hated how easy it was for him to waltz in and get past all the walls she’d built to defend herself.
“We should end this. You’re looking for something I can’t give you.”
He snorted. “Be quiet. Let’s go look at leaves. Bring your sketchbook. I’ll buy you a glass of wine and lunch and make you come a few times before we go to dinner.”
He turned and did that thing with her hand on his arm, leading her inside.
Of course he had a car that looked like a panther. Sleek. Powerful. Tinted windows. He escorted her to it and opened her door. When he closed it to go around to his side, all sound from outside was gone.
The seats were soft leather and it smelled a lot like he did. It wasn’t necessary but she put her sunglasses on anyway, trying to find some way to filter him out.
“I like the sunglasses.”
Of course he managed to sound suggestive. He drove calmly, but in charge. Easing into traffic like no one better get in his way. And really they didn’t.
“Are you warm enough?”
Despite it being late October, it felt a lot more like November. But she’d worn a sweater and brought her jacket and gloves.
Soon enough though, her seat got warm.
“Jeez, are these heated seats?” She tried not to sound like she’d just eaten an entire bowl of ice cream, but it made her languid. Spoiled like a cat.
“I like luxuries. We established that. So when can I get the next piece done on my back?”
“I like to wait at least two weeks between sessions. I’ll look at it the next time we’re naked to see how it’s coming along. But I want it healed before I do the next part.”
“I like how you made that fun.”
She rolled her eyes, relaxing a little when she realized he wasn’t going to push about her past.
“That’s me. More fun than a barrel of monkeys. Though, to be honest the idea of a barrel of monkeys doesn’t sound fun to me. It sounds like there’d be fleas and bites and shit involved.”
“I do think Raven fun is better than that, yes.”
“Who even thinks that stuff up? Monkeys in a barrel?”
She noted that his mouth quivered as he tried not to smile. It was a seriously sexy mouth.
“Who knows, darlin’. Maybe someone without any idea of what fun is?”
“Probably. Anyway, two weeks. Maybe three, depending on how you heal. Though I doubt your immune system would have the audacity to take more than two weeks.”
He chuckled. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean by that. I’m sure your immune system is just as stubborn as the rest of you is.”
“I’m okay.”
“Prolific too.” He indicated the multiple shelves.
“This is all of them. You know, since I was twelve or so. Some of the earlier ones . . . they didn’t . . . I didn’t keep those.”
“How long have you been drawing?” He led her to the sliders and then out onto the deck. The traffic in the distance was a hum, but not annoyingly so.
“Since I was six or so. We should go.”
“Your only appointment is me. And I’m right here. You’re my only appointment. No rush. Why weren’t you able to keep the ones from before you were twelve?”
“They didn’t let you bring a lot. When you moved to a new place. Later I started keeping them at school, or in my great-grandmother’s shed. But I didn’t know much the earlier years.”
He touched her then, sliding a hand through her hair, which she’d left loose around her face. “Awfully young to have to learn stuff like that. Did you lose her then? Your great-grandmother?”
“She lived until she was a hundred and one. But she”—her voice thinned but didn’t quite break—“she couldn’t care for me after I turned three. She had several strokes and she couldn’t get around well.”
“I’m sorry. Your mother?”
“Couldn’t be bothered. We should go.”
“You keep saying that. I want to know more.”
“Fuck off!” She wrenched herself back, eyes flashing. “I’m not a reality television show. I’m not your dancing monkey.”
“I never said you were. People share, that’s how they build relationships. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know you.”
She hated how he stood there so f**king calm after he’d rooted through her memories that way. Hated too that the way he’d touched her had calmed her, how hard she’d had to fight the desire to lean in and take comfort.
“So let’s get to know you then.”
“Go on. Ask. I’ve answered all the questions you’ve asked.”
She blew out a breath and tried to go back into her place but he stood there looking so reasonable she wanted to kick him in the balls.
“Look, I said I wouldn’t f**k anyone else while I was with you. But that doesn’t mean you get a full pass into my life. Into my memories. It sucked. Growing up the way I did sucked. It was horrible and I don’t want to talk about it for a reason. You didn’t grow up like that so I get how it’s a story to you, but it happened to me. It happened to me and I’m not giving it to you on demand.”
He moved to her slowly, but he kept moving until he’d gathered her up against his chest, holding her tight.
“I’m sorry.”
She hated how he got to her. Hated how easy it was for him to waltz in and get past all the walls she’d built to defend herself.
“We should end this. You’re looking for something I can’t give you.”
He snorted. “Be quiet. Let’s go look at leaves. Bring your sketchbook. I’ll buy you a glass of wine and lunch and make you come a few times before we go to dinner.”
He turned and did that thing with her hand on his arm, leading her inside.
Of course he had a car that looked like a panther. Sleek. Powerful. Tinted windows. He escorted her to it and opened her door. When he closed it to go around to his side, all sound from outside was gone.
The seats were soft leather and it smelled a lot like he did. It wasn’t necessary but she put her sunglasses on anyway, trying to find some way to filter him out.
“I like the sunglasses.”
Of course he managed to sound suggestive. He drove calmly, but in charge. Easing into traffic like no one better get in his way. And really they didn’t.
“Are you warm enough?”
Despite it being late October, it felt a lot more like November. But she’d worn a sweater and brought her jacket and gloves.
Soon enough though, her seat got warm.
“Jeez, are these heated seats?” She tried not to sound like she’d just eaten an entire bowl of ice cream, but it made her languid. Spoiled like a cat.
“I like luxuries. We established that. So when can I get the next piece done on my back?”
“I like to wait at least two weeks between sessions. I’ll look at it the next time we’re naked to see how it’s coming along. But I want it healed before I do the next part.”
“I like how you made that fun.”
She rolled her eyes, relaxing a little when she realized he wasn’t going to push about her past.
“That’s me. More fun than a barrel of monkeys. Though, to be honest the idea of a barrel of monkeys doesn’t sound fun to me. It sounds like there’d be fleas and bites and shit involved.”
“I do think Raven fun is better than that, yes.”
“Who even thinks that stuff up? Monkeys in a barrel?”
She noted that his mouth quivered as he tried not to smile. It was a seriously sexy mouth.
“Who knows, darlin’. Maybe someone without any idea of what fun is?”
“Probably. Anyway, two weeks. Maybe three, depending on how you heal. Though I doubt your immune system would have the audacity to take more than two weeks.”
He chuckled. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean by that. I’m sure your immune system is just as stubborn as the rest of you is.”
