Free Luster by Tessa Rowan Page B

feel something that I told myself I would never deal with again. I start putting together ways to backtrack in my head, when after what feels like forever, she tugs the corner of her lip into her mouth and looks up at me. “No art? So no sketching then?”
    The edges of her question reveal a little piece of her to me, something I wasn’t expecting to find. She thinks I just want to draw her and that be it. To her I’m just some guy who gets off by giving her grief all the time. I thought maybe I was that guy, too.
    But as I look down at the angles of Falyn’s shoulders, and at the soft and round curves of her magnificent tits she has on display…there’s something gnawing away at my insides. A feeling I haven’t properly had over a woman in a while, even after plenty of good lays.
    Want . I want Falyn.
    I want to rip that elegant dress right off of her body. I want to pull all the pins out of her hair and yank my fingers through it. I want to push her up against the wall and fuck her until she screams. I want to make her scream.
    I want her.
    “No drawing. Not tonight.” My words are clear, concise. I’m done playing games with her. The woman has gotten under my skin, clogged up my perfectly fine thoughts with images—no, memories of her on my couch, posed naked and beautiful.
    A thousand raw and untrained thoughts rake through my skull, telling me I need to make her mine. I won’t share any part of her. She won’t have anyone else after me.
    Of course I push that last thought away. I’m not trying to settle down with her, I just want to fuck her silly. Nothing wrong with that.
    Falyn, who can sometimes be slow on my uptake, catches right on this time. I can even see the moment what I’m saying hits her. Her pupils dilate until there’s barely any brown iris left around them. Her chest heaves involuntarily. Her nipples harden under the soft fabric of a dress she might possibly (hopefully) be going commando in.
    She gets it, all right. “Follow me. We can catch a cab to my place.”
    I stalk after her, reaching out for her hand and closing my eyes for a split second when our skin makes contact. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. We work through the maze of people, right past Eliza and a group of others. Falyn gives her a quick wave and presses on until we make our way out the front entrance of the gallery.
    I mumble my apologies after I run into someone, trying to keep up with Falyn. I fight the smug smile that’s threatening to take over my mouth. At least I’m not the only one desperate for some privacy here.
    She stumbles in her heels, her arm shooting out as she tries to hail the taxi coming down the street. I stand closer to the curb and stick my hand out too, wishing I had my own private driver to take us where we’d like to go. Then I could just get to it right there in the car, with a screen between us and prying eyes. My dick is starting to take notice of what’s going on here too, it seems.
    A guy pulls up and I latch onto the door before anyone else can get the chance, ready to defend our taxi with my life. “Hop in!” I yell to Falyn over the noise of people milling around outside the art gallery. She quickly slides across the seat and I follow, clapping the driver on his shoulder. “My man! Thank you.”
    He glances at us through his rearview and clearly gets the idea. “Where to?”

13
    Falyn
    “ T he Morrissey Regent on Westshire Drive ,” I reply breathlessly. I suck in some more air before I tell the driver to put it on Blake Morrissey’s tab, and collapse against the torn leather seat.
    My chest feels like it’s bubbling under the surface of my skin every time I sneak a look over at Matt. The look on his face says it all. He’s not afraid of hiding how he’s feeling—not like I usually am. This time though, I’m not either. I scoot closer to Matt, willing him to look at me. The driver keeps his eyes on the road thankfully, though I’m done with being worried over