Page 24 of Her Rogue to Ruin
“Phin it is then. And you may call me Portia,” she said as she led him toward the dais. “I don’t have a nickname to offer, I’m afraid.” She shot him a soft smile over her shoulder.
“I can try to think of one if you like.”
She chuckled, and he vowed to himself that he’d do his best to spark that light, joyful sound from her as often as possible.
“There’s a screen just there where you can remove…” She hesitated and then turned to face him. “Well, whatever you’re comfortable removing.”
“All of it has to come off.” He watched her eyes widen, then her tongue sweep out to lick her lips. He relished every sign that the attraction between them was mutual.
“Very well,” she said as if resolved. Then she turned to prepare the table near her easel that already held a canvas. She’d chosen something modest in size, and for that he was grateful. If this bare-arsed portrait of him ever fell into the wrong hands, he didn’t fancy seeing it covering half a wall if it was ever displayed.
“I don’t mind taking my clothes off here,” he told her.
Then he waited until she looked back at him and nodded her permission for him to do so. He shed his suit coat, removed his tie, and began working the buttons of his shirt.
Dare he ask her to help? Lord, how he wanted to.
She surprised him by leaving the easel and approaching him until they were nearly toe to toe. She offered her hands out, palms up. “If you give me your clothes, I’ll lay them aside to make sure they don’t get stained with paint.”
And so he did, laying his coat, waistcoat, tie, and shirt across her arms. She turned away when he reached for the buttons of his trousers.
“Should I stop?” he asked as she stepped behind the screen and deposited half of his clothing.
When she returned, she tipped her head and assessed him.
“You did say it all had to come off,” she said slowly, “but perhaps we should decide on your pose first.”
“My pose?”
“You could recline, stretched out.” She flicked her gaze down his body and heat flared in her cheeks. “Or you could sit.”
“I trust your judgement.” He glanced back at the chair and piles of cushions.
She strode over and then beckoned him with a hand outstretched. Phin would have gone anywhere she asked.
To his shock, she climbed onto the dais herself. Then she piled a few pillows and got down on her knees.
Phin licked his lips and willed his lust to cool.
“This is an option.” She turned her back and settled against the cushions, one leg crooked, exposing her boots and stockinged legs. His mouth watered and he nodded because he doubted he could get any words out that were in any way appropriate.
She got onto her feet again and settled in the chair, but she arranged herself as a man would, legs spread, hands out on the arm rests as if she sat upon a throne.
“Another option,” she told him quietly and then cast her gaze toward a corner. “I have a wooden stool too. We could drape it in fabric to hide the rough wood.”
Since he found himself dumbstruck and silent, she stood and retrieved the stool, placing it on the dais and placing a cushion on top, then drawing a rich sapphire blue length of fabric over everything so it draped elegantly along the sides.
“Try this?”
Phin settled onto the stool, and she immediately assembled a couple more pillows on the floor so he could settle one foot there and keep one leg slightly lifted.
“The other leg out?” she said. “Like this.” She modeled the pose she wanted by pushing one leg out in front of her, her boot still firmly on the floor.
Phin did as instructed, and she stepped back to assess him, one hand cupping her chin.
“May I touch you?”
“Of course,” he said hoarsely.God, yes. Please do.
