Page 27 of The Art of Sinning

“All right,” she said. “Where do you want me?”

In my bed.

Without looking at her, for fear he might combust, he stalked to the table. “Here. I need you to lie upon these papers.”

She came up beside him. “The ink will ruin the costume.”

“It doesn’t matter. Zoe said she didn’t need the chiton back. She has another she likes better, and in her present condition she can’t wear it anyway.”

Only then did he venture a look at her ladyship. The chiton was too short for her and showed a generous portion of her neat ankles and well-shaped calves. He skimmed his gaze up to where the silver thread rope belt cinched her waist, accentuating not only her lush hips but her ample bosom. To where her nipples, hard from the chill in the room, were imprinted on the linen.

His mouth went dry.

She must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for she crossed her arms over her breasts self-­consciously. “How am I to get up on there without dislodging the papers?”

Without a word, he scooped her up and laid her atop them. “Like this.”

He stared down into her startled face, at the crescents of her dark brows, at her elegant nose... at her sweetly bowed lips. The urge to kiss her assailed him so powerfully that it was all he could do to let go of her.

Unfortunately, even releasing her did not relax her. She lay like a piece of furniture, stiff and unmoving, not at all like the symbol of Art that he’d envisioned.

“Not like that,” he said tersely. “A bit more on your side. Use the cushions to support you if you must.”

“Like this?” She shifted position, and so did her breasts.

“Yes,” he gritted out, and jerked his gaze from them.

This was insanity. He’d sketched and painted naked women hundreds of times without reallyseeingthem, and certainly without lusting after them. So, why, by all that was holy, must he really see and lust afterher?

“Now,” he went on, “cover your face with your arm as if to shield it.”

“Like this?” She stared up at the ceiling with her arm fully over her face.

“No, looking forward.”

“I thought you said my face would be in profile.”

“I changed my mind. If you look toward me and cover half your features with your arm, no one will recognize you. Especially if you angle it so your face is in shadow.” Though he would leave her lips in the light. He had to capture that expressive mouth in full, which he couldn’t do in profile.

She shifted so she was staring at him from beneath her arm. “More like this?”

“Better. Now pretend that I am above and behind you, coming down at you with a knife. You’re taken by surprise.”

She did as he ordered, but her stance was still awkward.

“Turn a bit more onto your side and crook one leg.”

Once again she cooperated, but the entire tableau seemed posed and forced. Impatiently, he tugged at her limbs, trying to get a more relaxed look.

Then he let out an oath. “You look uncomfortable.”

“And I will continue to do so, as long as you keep putting your hands all over me,” she muttered, blushing furiously.

He lifted his gaze heavenward. “Very well, but you must at least attempt to look natural. Will it help if I rearrange the cushions?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We’ve got a few hours ahead of us, during which you’ll have to hold that pose.”