" These are good, Sophs, I mean it. You have skills. I can t tell by his tone if he s joking and mocking me, or if he s serious. I m still hanging down his back, using my palms on his muscular shoulder blades to try to lever myself up. Aware my hands are roaming over him freely, and he doesn t seem to give a s**t. It s obvious that his not appropriate sensor is switched off at the moment, and he really is focused on my artwork."
" Let me go. You re an asshole. I snap at him and then yelp when he slaps me on the ass hard enough to make it sting and ring loudly. I guess my book has been discarded if he suddenly has a free hand and twist to try and get a better look. We re now at the kitchen counter, and instead of holding it up he has it laid out on the black marble surface a
