Page 10 of The Sculptor

Unfortunately, he’s right, but he can’t know that just yet.

“Do your job, Dr. Potter, and get the fuck out of my house.” I tamp down the hurt at seeing the love of my life, who is frankly insulting me, and roll my shoulders back. He’s here to do a job, and so am I.

“Don’t fool yourself, Ray. This isn’t your home. This is your prison.”

A slow grin pulls on his face, and without another word, he grabs my arms, lifting them out to my side.

“I need to look at you,” he explains, inhaling a deep breath like he’s preparing to endure torture.

I can feel the anxiety radiating off his body. It takes divine strength to keep my arms up and not reach back to comfort him.

Unfortunately, my mouth doesn’t have the same restraint. “Don’t get shy on me now, Dr. Potter.”

“I’m not shy.” His breath ghosts over the shell of my ear, sending a flood of warmth straight down to my toes. My head follows the sensation, leaning toward his strength, seeking comfort and a kiss that never comes.

I close my eyes and will this nightmare to be over, my chin trembling as the past year catches up. I’ve been so alone—feeling so guilty for what happened. All I’ve ever wanted was to have this moment with Duke. To wrap my arms around him and tell him I’m sorry. To tell him the truth about Langston.

But that would mean tearing his life apart again, and I can’t do that—not until I’m sure Langston can make things right.

But that doesn’t make this any easier. It’s excruciating being this close to him and pretending it means nothing—like all those years we spent together meantnothing.

Tears threaten to fall down my cheeks when suddenly, warm fingers clasp my chin, lifting it gently and offering the comfort I so desperately crave. “Open your eyes, Ray. We’ve done this before, remember?”

Before.

When he was mine and…

My eyes flash open, the memory of that night flooding back like it was just yesterday.

“Yeah, you remember.” Duke grins. “Keep those pretty eyes on me—just like before, and we’ll get through this.”

I let loose a smile and straighten, my breasts fully displayed to a man who knows them all too well. “Tell me something, Dr. Potter,” I goad, feeling bolder, locked in his penetrating gaze. “Do you hold all your patients this way?” I let my gaze drift to my hip, where Duke’s hand rests like it’s always belonged there.

Duke drops his hands and steps back, his demeanor changing instantly. “Don’t act like you know me, Ms. Ford. I’m not the same man you once loved.”

Duke

Icould listen to her laugh for hours. The tone—the lightness, the freedom contained within it—calls to my soul like a hymn.

“Hold still,” I scold. “I don’t want any excuses that this wasn’t a fair competition.”

Let’s be real. I have no real chance of winning. I only wanted to get her naked.

“You’re tickling me on purpose, though.” She tries squirming away, but not before I move my hands to her back, holding her in place.

“Uh-oh,” I say, feigning shock. “Look at what you made me do.” Our gazes lock, and I let my hands drift down the curve of her back, smearing the paint, as I touch every inch of skin I can. “You better tell me when to stop, Ray. Otherwise, my hands will end up somewhere naughtier.”

Her tongue sweeps out and wets her lips just as I get to the curve of her ass. I think she’ll stop me, but instead, she presses her lips together.

It makes me smile.

And just because she’s a bad girl, I’ll torture her longer.

Stopping at the swell of her ass, I move around her hips, smearing the paint across her body to her naval.

“I thought you were going to be naughty,” she says breathily. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already.”

What I’ve changed is the ability to stay away from her. Fuck my father. Fuck hers. This girl was meant for me and only me, and I’ll be damned if her father leverages her as collateral for his political position. Ramsey Ford is destined to be a Potter.

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