Page 66 of She’s Worth the Risk

“Should I go fully nude tonight?”

He drops the pedestal into place, his brow pulling low. “You could,” he says, eyes darting to the door as he crosses to me. “But I’m not sure I want you to.”

My lips twitch. “Why?” I poke him teasingly in the arm. “Because it would make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” He pauses, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s your body, and I’d never tell you what to do with it. But…” He leans closer, dropping his voice. “I like the idea of some part of you being just for me.”

Just for me.

There’s something a little possessive in those words, and heat unfurls low in my belly. I’d never imagined Nick to be the jealous type, and while it would piss me off with anyone else, I’m surprised to find it has the opposite effect with him.

I swallow, leaning closer. “I like the idea of that too,” I whisper.

He exhales hard, his gaze falling to my lips. God, I want to kiss him. Need to kiss him. He must feel the same, because when I grab his shirt to tug him closer, he doesn’t stop me. I’m a hairsbreadth away from making contact when a noise sounds at the door.

“Fuck,” Nick mutters.

He pulls away with a low growl, a deep V stamped between his brows. He looks so pissed off that I laugh, and send him a grin as I saunter off to change for class.

Thankfully, Nick’s annoyance doesn’t last long. In fact, it’s our best class yet. He’s warm and encouraging, livelier and more passionate than I’ve ever seen him, so much so that even Ruth and Gary notice.

I’ve noticed a change in Nick, too. I think about that sketch he did of me, not only because it was breathtaking—in both its portrayal of me and its technical skill—but because of how he transformed as he drew. The divot of concentration between his brows, how he lost track of time. I held that pose for almost an hour, and I don’t think he realized. He simply focused on the stroke of his pencil across the page, as he slowly loosened up and lost himself in the process.

If only I could say the same for the sex. I have zero complaints about Nick’s skills in the bedroom—and even fewer about his body, damn—but the second time we were together last night, he was so distant. So in his head.

I know why. He said it had been a while for him, and he doesn’t want to disappoint me. But I meant every word I said. I’m there for him, nothing else. And I can’t get close to him if his walls stay up.

By the end of class, the room is buzzing. I’ve never felt such a positive mood from everyone as they head home for the night, and I can’t help but smile as we pack up.

“You were great tonight,” I tell Nick.

He drags the pedestal back beside the sofa. “So were you.” His gaze flicks to the door, ensuring everyone has gone, then sweeps over my robe. “As gorgeous as always.”

How many times has he wanted to say that to me in the past, I wonder. I know I’ve wanted to say it to him, and that was before I saw him naked. I mean, good God. There are no words to capture the shock—the sheer delight—I felt when he undressed last night, revealing those sculpted shoulders, that muscular chest, the ridges in his abs. He’s a fucking masterpiece, and while I enjoy having him all to myself, it almost feels like a waste. Like he’s doing the world a disservice by not sharing it.

“Honestly, Nick.” I shake my head. “You should be up there. Your body…”

The tips of his ears redden adorably at my compliment. It was like that last night, too.

“Sorry,” I say, hoping I’m not making him uncomfortable. “I know I keep talking about your body. It’s just…” I swallow, staring at his torso. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening. “It’s okay, honey. If it helps, I think about your body far more than I should.”

I play with the tie on my robe. “You do?” I ask, and he reaches up to cup my jaw.

“You know I do.”

His finger traces a path down my neck, along my collarbone, dipping between my breasts. I tug on the tie, the robe falls open, and his gaze slides to my stomach, my hips, my thighs. His eyelids drop to half-mast.

“Sometimes it’s all I can think about,” he says, voice like gravel.

An aroused breath escapes me. While I don’t usually have a problem with men and my body, I often sense they merely tolerate it, focusing on my face and tits, or worse, sleeping with me despite it.

But with Nick, it’s the opposite. He wants me because of my body. All the squishy bits, the wobbly bits, the parts anyone else would label as imperfect. Those are the parts he loves. The parts that turn him on.

And I need to feel it. I need his hands on me.

Now.