Recluse Read online Helen Hardt (Wolfes of Manhattan #2)

Categories Genre: Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wolfes of Manhattan Series by Helen Hardt
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 73091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
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I remained as still as I could, with the throbbing between my legs.

6

Roy

The dark gray represented nighttime. Her moonlit features would be more pronounced against darkness.

Her caramel-colored hair fell in sporadic loose waves around her shoulders. If only she’d shed the robe, and I could see her in her naked glory.

But it was too soon for that. I was too attracted to her. She wasn’t just any model. She was a woman I wanted in my bed. Really wanted in my bed. If I saw her body, I wouldn’t be able to capture what I longed to on this canvas.

The lighting cast silver highlights in her hair, and I brushed little glints of zinc white over the soft browns.

The flesh tones of her face were easy to paint and contour. First things first, because what I wanted to focus on were those eyes.

So silvery and sparkling, they gazed above my shoulders as I’d instructed her. Good thing. If she were looking at me, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. As it was, I was having a hard time, but I placed my need to paint her above the ache in my groin.

I mixed the zinc white with a touch of ivory black and added some blues. Nope. I tried again. Nope. Then once more. A little closer.

I began painting her eyes. Damn. Still not perfect. Why was that silvery hue eluding me?

“Fuck,” I said aloud.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s your eyes. They’re not right.”

“How long has it been?” she asked.

It had probably seemed like hours to her. I knew well how difficult modeling was. I’d done it during college. “A little less than an hour.”

“How much do you have done?”

“Everything. Except the eyes aren’t right.”

“You painted a whole portrait in an hour?”

“It’s an abstract, and yeah. But I’m not happy with—”

She hopped off the stool. “Let me see.”

I opened my mouth to try to stop her, but she moved quickly. She faced the canvas with wide eyes.

“Wow. Just wow.”

“It’s not right. The eyes.”

“How can you say that? This is more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

I gazed into her eyes. “No, it’s not. Not as beautiful as you are.”

“But it is. You made my hair so…so… And my eyes… It doesn’t look like me at all. I mean, it does, but… It looks like the best version of me, you know what I mean?”

“I do.”

But it didn’t. It didn’t capture her ethereal essence. That silveriness in her eyes existed only in her. No pigment could replicate it, even with a master mixing it.

“I can’t believe it. You’re so gifted, Roy. So much talent.”

“It’s not my best work.”

“It is to me.”

Her pink lips were parted and shiny. I couldn’t help myself. I set down my palette, grabbed her, and pulled her to me. For a few precious seconds, I stared at the miracle that was her, thinking I couldn’t touch her, just couldn’t, because it might mar her perfection.

Then her tongue touched her bottom lip, and I couldn’t help myself. I crushed my lips to hers.

Her mouth was already open, so I pushed my tongue in. She tasted like crisp apple wine. A soft moan hummed from her throat into my mouth, and I deepened the kiss, holding her tightly.

My smock was covered in oil paints. I’d ruin this robe, but I didn’t care. I was a Wolfe. I could buy a million robes. Even if I couldn’t, this kiss was well worth it.

The inside of her mouth felt like smooth silk. Her arms crept around my neck, the touch of her soft fingers making me even hotter. My cock was already pounding against my jeans, demanding release.

I wanted her. I wanted Charlie Waters in my bed, and I wanted her there now.

I’d promised to feed her. Her tummy growling had been so cute.

But damn, she was kissing me back. Kissing me with urgency, all the urgency I felt myself. I cupped one of her cheeks and then trailed back to her head, threading my fingers through her disheveled hair. So soft, like blades of wheat grass on a summer day.

Again, the paint. Surely I was painting her. Didn’t care. Didn’t fucking care at all.

With my other hand, I untied the robe and swept it off her shoulder, letting it hang on one side of her. Then I cupped her pert breast still encased in her bra. Her nipple was hard against the fabric, and I thumbed it gently.

She shuddered against me, groaning into my mouth.

Good. She liked that. I liked it too.

I wanted that hard little nipple in my mouth, between my teeth. I wanted to nip at it until she was squirming like crazy.

I moved my other hand downward, shoving the soiled robe off her other shoulder. It fell into a heap on the floor. Our mouths were still fused together, so I couldn’t see, but if she was still wearing a bra, she was no doubt still wearing panties as well.



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