Trisha Wolfe

“I can feel your excitement,” Grayson says, smile stretching. “Or is that arousal?” He sniffs the air, making me flush.

I’m tethered so tightly to him, I can feel him in my veins.

I tug my towel higher, wrap it tighter.

“Make sure those thighs are squeezed just as tight,” he remarks.

“With you, Dr. Noble. I belong right here with you.”

My gaze snaps to hers. My hands itch to tear those glasses from her face so I can stare into her eyes unobstructed.

“I want to live. And I want you.”

I won’t accept anything less than her; she’s my other half.

My breath catches as his fingers make contact with my inner thigh.

She’s the artist and I’m her canvas

“There you are,” he says.