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I turnpainting I’ve ever seen Flawless strokes of black paint brush the shape of aover his eyes His feet are traced by a black circle, like he’s bound to the lonely spot, and he’s crying The agony and torment in his expression is so real, I want to reach out and comfort him

"It’s beautiful," I breathe in awe "I can feel his pain and anguish It’s like it’s killing hile spot"

"You understand it like a true artist," he observes, with a trace of pain in his eyes "Do you paint?"

I shake my head "No, my brother does And Raven I’m more of an artist ords"

"So, you’re a writer," he says, sounding a little unpleased

I turn to face hiht Out of habit, I step back, and the heel of my boot collides with the easel "I want to be one someday"

He sweeps a strand of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear, a reminder that I don’t have to fear his touch; that his contact only brings solace, not sorrow

"Do you know some believe that the eyes are theto the soul?" he asks softly

I elevate ht?"

His intense expression is breathtaking as he cupsles all over s I’ve never experienced before because they can only coh contact with another

"It is now, but a long tiht to one’s soul It shohat they were really feeling and their vulnerability" He gently traces his finger below my eyes "You have beautiful eyes, but there’s so much sadness in them"

I s the luhty, he has such luscious lips

"Ember," he whispers and tele person’s death It’s a strange feeling, but an invigorating one "I want to kiss you" His voice drops to a husky whisper as he leans in "Please tell me I can kiss you… God please just say it"

"Yes…" I breathe and it takesof my response; that after nineteen years of intentional solitude I’ll finally be kissed

He closes his eyes, leaning closer My heart thuorously in my chest as his mouth nears and then roan instantly slips froh ue between ue with his and tracing the tip along his tongue ring

His hands skim around to ainst the wall His fir onto ue Breathy noises keep fleeing fro from his

"E a path of soft kisses down my jawline, to the arch of my neck, and my head falls to the side as he approaches aze my skin

"Ohmore

When he reaches the top ofhilide up the front of me, over my ribs and breast, and when he reachesmy breast Seconds later, hisat it, the coldto the exhilaration pulsating through my body I want to brace myself as ers through his hair and hold onto hi lides upward and when he arrives at the top of?" a male voice crushes the moment

Our eyes snap open and before he backs away, he slides my shirt and bras back over my breast Luckily, we’re hidden behind the easel; otherwise, the professor would have gotten a full viee were doing

Professor Morgan, the art professor, is standing by his desk with a confounded look on his face He’s in his mid-forties, with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes and he wears a lot of cargo pants and polo shirts, smeared with charcoal, paint, clay--any art supply, really

"Oh, hi there, Ember" He sets a stack of artwork down on his corner desk "Have you seen Raven this ? She usually comes in here to work on stuff, but I haven’t seen her I have a couple of questions about the last painting she turned it I want to talk to her before I have to startlate," I say and then press aze flicks to Asher and so in his eyesto"I’m not sure"

"Oh Okay" He see Asher dirty looks

Taking it as a signal to leave, I wave goodbye to Asher "See you around, I guess"

Returning to his easel, he picks up the paintbrush, avoiding eye contact withnot to take it defensively, I walk out of the roo It’s a very se When I arrive, Professor Mackerlie is writing on the whiteboard He also teaches high school English, so this is prettytactics