16

VANESSA

“Just like that,” Callum murmurs, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Like this?” I breathe.

“Yeah.” His gaze is so intense that it feels like it’s searing my skin.

My heart pounds.

The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Fucking gorgeous.”

My cheeks burn as Cal’s eyes drop back down to the page of his sketchbook, his pencil scratching against the page. A crease forms between his brows as he works, his gaze constantly flickering between me and the page in front of him.

I can’t complain about the view. He’s seated in a chair at the end of the bed, clad only in his boxers with all that mouthwatering lean muscle on display. I drink him in, mapping out the tattoos on his thighs and forearms, wondering if I’ll inspire the next work of art he inks on his skin.

“So am I your muse now?” I joke, still diligently holding my pose.

His lips draw into another smile, his eyes returning to mine. “What makes you think you haven’t been for weeks?”

My heart stutters in my chest, skipping a beat.

He