Page 33 of The Billionaire's Ride

Drew isn’t just some sexy guy with a motorcycle. He’s thoughtful. Sweet. And I want more. But it’s late, and he just dropped me off at my hotel. Now, there’s all this passionsparking throughout my entire being with nowhere to go. It’s just me alone in my room. I glance at the table where my sketchbooks are resting.

Maybe not entirely alone.

I’m too excited right now, and I can’t imagine going to sleep. But there are many, many other things I can imagine. So I grab my pencil set and a Fredrickson and jump into bed. The cushy linens billow around me like a little cloud nine of heaven. I take in my short skirt, recalling the way the leather felt sliding up my hips when Drew took me in his hands. I close my eyes, reliving the moment. Then, a flood of curious questions comes to mind.

If lingerie could embody that moment, what would it look like? What would it feel like? Would it arouse a man? Would it arouse Drew?

The tip of my noir colored pencil touches the page, gentle at first but growing in intensity. An image appears on the paper: a classic teddy of delicate black lace with a lightning-inspired pattern and sexy, sleek leather embellishments. My eyes widen as the piece comes to life, practically dancing on the page. During theLuxinterview, Danika said she loved the subtle edge woven into my work.

Perhaps it’s time for Kate Golden to enhance the edge.

The sketch is done in record time, and I feel a lacy red number calling my name. With a fresh, ruby pencil, I continue to draw. Excitement blooms in my belly. I haven’t felt this inspired in so long.

I take in my new creations and imagine modeling them for Drew while he gazes with that hungry look in his dark eyes. It’s a look that unearths something inside me. I fantasize about his touch, his hands peeling back the lacy layers and revealing all of me. I don’t know how, but I have to make this daydream real. I keep sketching. And sketching. And sketching.

No idea where the energy and ideas are manifesting from, but my muse has finally come out to play. It’s three in the morning when I put the final touches on the sixteenth piece. After a deep breath, I let out a long exhale and stretch my arms overhead.

“Wow.” I flip back through the pages, hardly remembering what I just drafted. Every design feels fresh. They’re alive. Pulsing with a heartbeat. Each embodies a deep passion, stunning beauty, and fierce boldness. Peppered with naughty and nice elements, this is some of my best work. I settle against the pillows and reflect on the last year. My rock bottom burnout, how difficult it was to design a single piece, and wondering if I could even do it anymore.

And I just did. A full collection in just a few hours.

And it’s good.

No, it’s great!

“Yes!” I say, pumping my fist and kicking my heels into the mattress. “Yes, yes!”

Ladies and London Gents, Kate Golden is back! And it’s all thanks to Drew Blake—the man who brought me back to life.

Then I feel an unexpected urge to tell him, to text him in the middle of the night and gush about what I’ve done and how freaking amazing I feel. I pick up my phone and pull up his contact. My thumb hovers over the message button, and then reality sets in. Drew may be my inspiration, but he’s also just a fling. He can’t be the guy I call when something good happens. But I have to tell someone.

I snap photos of my sketches and send them off to my stepmom, Lisa.

KATE

How’s this for a comeback?

Not five minutes later, she calls. “Kate, these are fantastic!”

“Really?” I ask, finally considering that I could be delirious after the mind-blowing sex and no sleep.

“Yes! Where did these come from?”

My mind wanders to Drew, and I smile. “I don’t know. I just felt inspired.”

“The lace pattern on the first one is gorgeous. It almost makes me wish I were a model again,” Lisa says.

“You know I’d be happy to make you the face of Kate Golden Lingerie.” This is a proposal I bring to her every year but she always refuses.

“No, those days are long gone. Plus, aren’t you the new face of the brand?” she asks, referring to myLux Magazinespread.

“It’s a feature in one magazine, not an ad campaign.” I refute the idea of being a model again, even though my recent activities seem to fit the bill. The experience is fleeting. Tonight is confirmation that I belong behind the sketchpad.

“Well, I bet it’s fabulous. So when are you going to launch this new line?”

I flip through the pages again. “I wish I could launch these looks at the fashion show next week. They’re so much stronger than what’s on the rack now.”

“So why don’t you?” Lisa makes it sound like it’s no big deal to magically create sixteen new lingerie pieces with custom lace in five days.

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