Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (15 page)

Chapter Thirteen

My day was about as bad as it gets. My brain was stuck on Jude and it caused me to forget about other things.
Important things.

I closed a sale in the morning, but forgot to put the “In Transit” stickers in the windows and the wife got pulled over on her way back to work. They returned to the dealership in the late afternoon all kinds of pissed off. I had to fight hard to keep my career unsullied with the huge mistake. After apologizing over and over and offering the previously lovely couple, now my worst nightmare couple, complimentary factory all-season floor mats and a six-visit detail package, they had a reasonable, forgiven-not-forgotten attitude.

When I finished with my begging session, I was walking down the hall, and Dixless came up behind me.

“You have a beautiful body, Presley. Like a work of art that I could gaze at for hours, if you’d let me.”

I turned to ask, “What the hell?” and, like the jerk he is, he ducked into the men’s restroom. What shocked me most about the interaction was that normally I would’ve just walked away, or more likely run away. Not this time. I followed him into the bathroom, but had to pretend I walked in the wrong door when I absolutely walked in on Charlie using a urinal. I apologized profusely while exiting, all the time hearing Dixless laugh in the bathroom stall.

Later, I remembered tonight was my drawing class. I had no clothes to change into, and all my supplies were in my old car, which was stored in the used car lot. Three miles away. Thus, I had to retrieve my supplies at lunch instead of closing myself in my office like I needed and wanted and desired so badly. Once I was outside, I savored getting out in the spring air. On the way back, I caught my face in the rearview mirror, and I wore a huge smile.

When it was finally time to leave, I wondered if going to class would even be worth it. Since sleep was relatively nonexistent last night, as I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jude would have to say, I dragged today. At Brix he was blunt with his feelings, but still, my trust in him wasn’t high. I’d been burnt before, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to expose the new skin to possible heat again.

And although I’d stood up to her and was slightly mortified at my behavior, the whole Emerson thing was in the back of my mind, rolling around and feeding my insecurities. I needed to know he was really done with her, and I didn’t know how I’d get that closure. Without it I just didn’t think there was going to be trust. And without the trust, there was nothing. 

I drove on autopilot to Graphite and Acrylic Art Studio. My mind wandered to the fact that Jude would be modeling again tonight.

Ugghh.

Didn’t know if I could handle seeing him and seeing all of him.

Edwyn met me on the way up the long walkway to the freestanding building. “So, Prez, think the beefcake will be our model again?”

“Probably, and nobody says ‘beefcake’ anymore, Ed.” My shoulders vibrated with a reserved giggle.

He chuckled. “Kind of got the feeling he was happy to see you last week. Something going on there?”

“Not really. Just a little drama that no one wants to hear about.”

Edwyn’s soft hand on my arm stopped me and his eyes softened with compassion. “Oh, honey, my Philippe says that drama is my middle name. You ever want to share yours, you let me know. It’s not misery that loves company, gorgeous. It’s real life that loves company.”

Jude stood outside of the classroom in his robe and looking absolutely edible, his hair all pulled back into a low ponytail and his muscular legs showing. Edwyn whistled under his breath until I gave him a shove toward the art room.

“Hey.” Edwyn performed a blatant inspection while passing Jude.

“Hey.” Jude adjusted his robe, trying to cover more skin but failing miserably.

Jude’s discomfort was noticeable and amusing, but totally unreasonable. Ed was in love with Philippe, like forever-love. He rolled his eyes and fanned himself behind Jude’s back. After a quick giggle at his antics, I brought my attention to Jude.

“Hi, Presley.” Jude glanced over his shoulder, and Ed hightailed himself into the classroom.

“Hi, Jude.”

“Ready for class?”

“I think so. Had a pretty long day, but class always seems to change my mood, so we’ll see.”

Jude stepped close. Only a sliver of light flowed between us, the knot in his robe belt grazed against my blouse, and a wave of butterflies rode through my stomach.

“Can you stick around for a few minutes after class so we can talk?” His eyes searched mine for an answer.

“All right.”

“Thanks.”

I stepped around him, getting the scent of his body stuck in my nose. I swore silently as goose bumps rose on my skin. He still affected me so easily. The reaction screamed otherworldly, maybe a curse of Aphrodite and Pothos.

Or is it a blessing?

Inside the room, Edwyn prepped his area and patted the stool next to his. He sent a fellow student off to another easel with a bitchy/friendly glare. The line between the two emotions painted elegantly on his face.

Simi relayed general directions for the focus of the session. The new pose would be challenging and our model would be holding for forty-five minutes followed by a fifteen-minute break and an additional thirty minutes after.

Getting my supplies organized, the same gasp exited Edwyn, and I rolled my eyes. Before glancing around the easel, my heart pounded in my chest, readying my weak mind for the image. And I was still not ready. Jude was still gorgeous, not that I expected anything to change in one week. The definition of his muscles sent a wildfire running through every vein in my body, ravaging me with a blast of heat. It took all my will not to combust into a pile of ash.

“I knew it!” Ed whispered.

“What?”

“You are into him, in a big way.”

“It’s just a crush.”

“Prez, it’s never
just
a crush.” He returned to his sketch.

I took my time with the drawing, starting at his face. Jude braced on a stool facing my direction. Simi had arranged his legs so one was propped on the lowest rung of the stool. The other leg was straight and his upper body was turned toward us, showing off the muscles in his obliques and his toned arm and shoulder. The pose was innocent, but nothing about Jude was innocent. He radiated passionate human and skillful lover from every pore on his godlike body and face.

Our eyes met occasionally. Over the thirty minutes of sketching, I noticed his face gradually tensed. He shifted uncomfortably, until he called Simi over and her eyes widened when she got close. They discussed something, and she handed him his robe. He slid it on and left the room.

Ed lifted his eyebrows. “That was interesting.”

“And weird. Hope he’s feeling okay.”

“I’d say he’s feeling something …
big
.”

“Okay, enough with the juvenile innuendos.”

“Presley, he popped a boner,” Ed said matter-of-factly.

“What?” I exclaimed loudly. “Sorry,” I offered to the room and blushed until the heat of my cheeks spread to my ears. 

“Yes, probably from looking at you like you’re naked, too. You really need to get it over with and ride the pink pony.”

“Ed!” I slapped him lightly, and he laughed it off.

Interesting that he said pony …

I was so focused on sketching what was above the waist that I didn’t even look at what was happening down below.

Damn, bet it was a beautiful sight.

I continued to sketch and attempted to concentrate on anything but Jude’s big issue.

Simi arranged my limbs in a pose she found aesthetically pleasing. She instructed the students on some principles of drawing, then left them to their creativity.

The way I pointed on the stool gave me a full view of Presley. She’d obviously come directly from work. In grey slacks with a grey and white striped shirt, the arms rolled up and open at the neck showing off her white skin and delicate collarbone, my thoughts wandered through what kissing that delicate neck might do to her.

Halfway through the forty-five minutes, Presley stepped out of her black heels and her hot-pink painted toenails were all I could look at, like I told her—innocent but damn sexy. The graceful tap of her foot while she worked was adorable and the scrunch of her long toes when in deep focus fascinated. Our eyes connected briefly a couple of times but the last time, she held the gaze, as if she was studying my eyes for an answer to one of life’s great mysteries.

When she dropped her gaze lower on my body, I became very aware of my sans clothing situation. Before this moment, being a model was only doing Simi a favor, but now I shared a part of myself that should only be for Presley.

And then my biggest fear became a reality. My lifeless weightlifter decided to show off, in a big way. I did my best to change the progressing physical reaction with deep breathing, repulsive mental imagery, and silently cursing the weightlifter’s existence, but it was no use. The front row of five twenty-five to thirty-year-old artists began to snicker, and a one of them seemed genuinely offended.

“Um … Simi?” I called, covering my lap with my hands the best I could.

Her eyes opened wide as she walked closer. The tiny woman giggled. “Having an … issue?”

              “Yes, sorry. Can I take a break, please?”

“Yeah, here.” She handed me my robe, then turned to the students. “Class, we’ll be taking our fifteen minutes a little early.”

After I slipped into the black robe as discreetly as I could, I walked awkwardly and directly to the bathroom. Pacing along the front of the stalls, I came up with two possible actions and only one of them was probably an intelligent choice. First, I could leave. Grab my bag, extend my apologies to Simi, and text Presley that I’d talk to her tomorrow. Or second, I could man up, jerk off, and go back in with a flaccid member to finish the job I started.

I’m wrong. They’re both horrible choices.

I rubbed my face, hoping to erase the memory of my penis faux-pas. I chose the second ridiculous option, because even though I was mortified, my erection was still as hard as stone. Plus, every lucid thought trailed back to the green-eyed, black-haired siren in the art room ten feet away and how badly I wished she were in this men’s room with me to help me with my raging problem.

I chose the bigger of the two stalls and locked the door. Standing over the toilet, I wrapped my hand around my cock and started long, slow strokes. Each motion sent a zing of pleasure to my gut. I closed my eyes and let Presley’s vision appear in my mind. The way her long hair shimmered and reflected light like a halo, how her bright green eyes softened to a deep green when her gaze met mine, her lips and how they turned pouty and fucking kissable when she was concentrating on her artwork. I thought about how amazing those lips would feel along every inch of my body. Soft and wet.

I increased my speed and the tightening in my groin signaled the precursor to the pinnacle of my efforts. I imagined her tongue sliding over my balls and up my swollen and stiff cock, and my legs weakened. I leaned over the toilet, bracing myself with my unoccupied hand against the back wall. Her innocent eyes looking up at me while she sucked me off would send me over the edge into an intense release. The mental vision did its job. I muttered a string of cuss words as the weightlifter pumped his load into the toilet. The last of the words to be uttered from my mouth was her name, in reverence and with complete respect.

When my body stopped pulsing, I sensed a presence in the next stall.

The anonymous man cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But you need to get your shit together. If you deserve her, then show her. Otherwise, leave her alone. Presley doesn’t deserve a dickhead, even one that has … a
very
nice dick.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I cleaned up, washed, and made my way back to the room.

“All better?” Simi asked.

“I think so. Sorry.”

“Not the first time that’s happened, won’t be the last. You think you can do another thirty of the same pose?”

“Yeah.” I stripped and took a seat, adjusting to the same position I was in before.

Presley smiled lightly at me. I smirked back with a small raise of my shoulders. The humble move made her smile bigger and more like the Presley of before my idiot ways. Totally worth everything that happened.

“Class, we’re ready to start again. Please finish your sketches in the next twenty-five minutes.”

I made a concentrated effort to remain perfectly still.

After giving direction to a couple of the girls in the front row, Simi rounded the room. Twenty minutes passed and I heard her usually soft voice change. I brought my eyes up to see what was going on.

“Presley, I love what you’re doing. Your lines are textbook, but you’ve captured an animal quality in the model’s eyes.” Simi tipped her head. “Intense and sensual, like a lover’s eyes. There’s a hunger and yearning. Excellent interpretation.” Simi moved on to another student.