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“Not that.” His eyes remain steadfastly locked onto mine. “Being caressed like you are the most beautiful creature on the planet.”
My skin is scorching, and my core suddenly throbs as the muscles between my thighs pull. How deliciously forward of him.
“I can’t say I do,” I reply, slowly licking my lower lip into my mouth. “Hard to find someone that knows what to do with their hands.”
“Perhaps you need to turn your attention away from unskilled boys and find a man with the right kind of talent. Only men can appreciate art.”
Is he coming on to me?
He definitely is.
This gorgeous, muscular, stunning silver fox is flirting with me. I don’t know if it’s because of the disappointment around Finn, or the fact that everything about this man appeals to my deepest desires, but I like it.
“Know of anyone?” I lift one brow and glance back at the clay. A tall, slender vase with a large, curvaceous bottom is appearing beneath his hands while he works.
“I appreciate art,” he says, his lips pulling into a lopsided smirk. The smattering of silver hair across his jaw gives him an almost crystalline appearance.
Did I pass out?
Is this just some kind of dream? Men this attractive don’t exist. And if they do, they’re not interested in me.
“Are you offering?” My hip shifts to the left and I take a deeper breath. Fabric pulls across my large chest and the man’s eyes dart down to where those buttons cling for dear life.
“Perhaps—”
“Emma!” Meghan hurried into the room through the curved archway, brushing the beaded curtains to the side. “What are you doing here?”
Heat bursts across the back of my neck like I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar by my mother. Spinning to face her, I plaster the happiest smile onto my face.
“I came to see if you were free for some lunch.”
“Oh!” Meghan has several splatters of colorful paint across her blue shirt and jeans, and a happy glint burns in her eye. This is her happy place. “Sure, let me just get cleaned up.” Her eyes dart from me to the man. “Oh, this is my teacher. Professor Adair.”
Professor?!
This is Meghan’s teacher?
I spin to face him and he smiles that sexy, wide smile once more. “Meghan, I’ve told you. Call me Caspian.”
Caspian. Of course his name is as godly as he is.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” My words are waspish, strained through the building embarrassment that rises in my chest like acid reflux. There’s no way I just stood there and all but threw myself at Meghan’s teacher.
I can’t look him in the eye after that; instead, I focus on what he’s doing with the clay. I could see him still watching me out of the corner of my eye, though, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind the flirting. As Meghan hurries around the room cleaning herself up, the throb between my legs doesn’t fade. I want to be the clay.
I want to feel those skilled hands gliding over my body, coaxing all the sweet spots out of me?—
Fuck. I need to get laid.
“Alright, I’m ready! Bye Caspian. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Goodbye, Meghan.” Caspian nods his head, and a few strands of silver hair part from his hairline and graze his temple. Finally, I look him in the eye and my stomach somersaults.
“Goodbye, Emma.”
“Bye!” I can barely get the word out before Meghan’s arm is linked with mine and she’s pulling me out of the room. The cool air of the corridor does nothing to calm the fire raging across my cheeks.
