The Sculptor's Seduction (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Yeah… yes. I… I don’t understand,” she stammered. “What… what do you mean it’s mine? I don’t own this.” She shook her head frantically.

  “Yes, you do. Well, technically, you have a lifetime lease for as long as you want to be here; I had it drawn up this morning.” He held out the paper that was in his hand to her.

  Gingerly, she took it from his grasp, opening it to see that what he said was true. He was giving her this space to lease… for nothing.

  All she had to do was sign.

  “Why? Why would you do this? I don’t need this.”

  “Yes, you do.” His tone firm. “For your dance school – your dream, you do.”

  Oh my God.

  And then she broke down – like she hadn’t for three years. Her hand came up to her mouth to stifle her sob as tears streamed down her face.

  Her studio. Her dream. And Sloane was giving it to her, asking nothing in return.

  “Jesus, Cyn.” His fingers flew to her face, wiping off the tears that had begun to stream down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry. Christ, I thought this would make you happy. I’m sorry—”

  “No!” She quickly interjected with an embarrassingly thick, emotional voice. “No… I am happy.” Her watery smile was probably not as convincing as she’d hoped it would be. “I’m sorry… I just don’t understand why... I can’t believe…”

  She heard his soft chuckle. “Why? Because I saw you dance. That’s why. And after hearing why you stopped, I couldn’t… God,” he swore. “I needed to do something.”

  She looked up, blinking through her watery vision to stare at him, stunned by all of the emotions crossing over his face.

  “When you first came to my studio and saw my drawings and some of my other sculptures, you were in awe. No one needed to tell you that I was talented, you could see it for yourself even not being an artist. That is how I felt when I saw you dance. You brought me to my knees and not just because of your beauty. I don’t give a shit what that asshole did or said; you are talented and you deserve to be center-fucking-stage.” A flash of anger tensed his expression as he spoke about Marcus. “I don’t know how to explain it, Cyn, and I’m sure I sound like a bumbling idiot, but when you danced for me, it was like watching an angel floating before my eyes.”

  He stepped back, rubbing his forehead with his hand, frustrated with what he felt was inarticulate… and what she heard as incredible.

  “You are exceptionally talented, Cyn, and driven and maybe you don’t believe in you, but I do. And this is my way of proving that to you.” She wiped her tears and smeared mascara from her cheeks just as she felt her eyes threaten to let them start falling again. “You can do this and you deserve it; I want you to know that from this moment forward, the only thing holding you back is yourself.”

  She pulled in a quivering breath. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t…” She looked down at the lease that shook in her hands.

  It was too much; this was all too much. This, right now, - her own rent-free studio space – couldn’t be real – nothing this good ever was; if she’d learned anything in life so far it should be that.

  There was always a cost; maybe not today, but at some point, this gift horse would somehow end up destroying her from the inside.

  “I can’t accept this,” she finally said, wishing her voice sounded more resolute than she felt.

  Sloane scowled.

  “What do you mean? Why?”

  She let out a harsh laugh. “I mean, I can’t accept this, Sloane,” she continued, hysterically waving her arms around her at the magnitude of the empty space. “This place must have cost you... I mean, what you could rent this space for because of the size and the location and the view.” She paused, glancing out the windows to Central Park, imagining herself dancing in front of them. “What you could get for this space is far, far more than I could ever pay and I can’t accept it for free.”

  “Cyn, I don’t give a shit about the money.” She saw his fists clenching at his side. “I don’t need any more of it, that’s for damn sure. I want you to have this space.” He approached her again, taking her chin in his grasp and holding her gaze to his. “What I saw in you – what I saw you feel – when I watched you dance was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld and if giving you this space means that you get to feel that every day because of me… that is worth more to me than anything else I could possibly “get” for it.”

  Remember the cost, Cyn.

  She tried, but the harder she fought for that protective cloak of fear, the more it eluded her. She searched frantically for the shield of skepticism that had served her well these past few years, but somehow, in every corner she checked, only the bright light of hope remained; her defensive distrust of all good things that fell into her lap was nowhere to be found.

  “I… don’t know,” was all that she could manage. She tried to pull her head from his grasp, but he held it firm.

  “Please, let me give you this. It’s my gift. And, last I checked, gifts are gifts because they are free.” She bit her lip, but couldn’t find any legitimate reason not to accept it.

  This was her dream and as much as she had been saving, she would never have financial ability to provide the opportunity that this space did.

  Seeing her continued hesitation to accept such an extravagant gift, Sloane continued, “What if I let you give me something in return?”

  Her eyes widened in surprised before they narrowed in suspicion.

  Was this the hammer dropping? Was this where she would find out what this would really cost her?

  “What do you want?”

  Sloane pulled back, sensing the defensiveness in her tone. “I told you, I don’t want anything except for you to take my gift. However, since that seems to be a problem for you, I meant that you could give me something – something of your choosing – in exchange.”

  “Oh.” It took her a second to realize what he had said. “So, I get to pick what I give you in return?” He nodded.

  She turned and walked towards the windows, staring at the horizon as she thought of what she could possibly do for him. As she got closer to the glass, her focus shifted from what was outside the glass to what was reflected in it. He was watching her – a look of hopeless longing – a look that said he wanted to make her happy, whatever the cost was to him. Cyn knew in that moment that if she had said she wanted him to take her body, he would – even though it seemed like it might cost him his soul.

  No, she wanted to give him a semblance of what he’d given her. Sloane had broken through the walls she’d built to keep herself away from her dream; he’d teased, taunted, and bribed her into moving beyond her past to finally pursue her gift and the future that was, indeed, possible. And she wanted to do the same for him, which meant starting small.

  Cyn spun around to face him. “I want to cook for you… or with you.”

  His mouth opened and closed. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Alright.” She noticed the subtle flex of his jaw as his mouth closed.

  “Tonight.”

  He nodded. “What should I—”

  “Nothing,” she cut him off with a wave. “When we leave here, I’ll go to the store and get everything that I need and meet you back at your apartment.”

  “Ok,” he said gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Make sure you get everything. I don’t have anything… to make anything. Except a protein shake.”

  Cyn laughed. “Everything – got it.”

  “So, you’ll keep it, then?” The way he almost nervously asked to clarify that this meant she was accepting his gift made her heart swell.

  Her answer was to close the distance between them and plant her lips on his. Even though he tensed at her touch, he didn’t pull back. And after a second, his arm came around her to pull her tight against him.

  In that moment, everything about every choice she had made seemed right because it had brought her here. To him.


  “Yes,” she said against his lips. “I’ll keep it.”

  He growled, “Good.” And then his lips claimed hers, sealing in her answer with a kiss that melted her from the inside out. Just before she was completely overwhelmed with desire, he pulled back. “We should get going then.”

  Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a keycard. “Here. For my apartment. Forty-second floor, number forty-two hundred.”

  Cyn stared at the white card in his hand, hers seeming to move in slow motion to take it from him.

  First, a studio of her own and now, a key to his place?

  She didn’t know what was more concerning – whether it was real or what would happen next?

  Chapter 15

  This was a big mistake.

  Sloane paced his kitchen, knowing that Cyn would be there any minute. He’d returned home on edge because she was coming. Frantically, he turned on the fireplace, began randomly moving the furniture as though something had moved it out of place, and now, walked in circles looking to see if anything needed to be cleaned…

  What was there to clean? He barely lived there. He barely lived anywhere.

  He barely lived.

  He shook his head, stopping to laugh at himself, as he jerked out one of the stools underneath his kitchen counter. He did live, he just only allowed himself to focus on his work and his art because they were safe and their results let him help others instead of hurt them. His company kept his mind distractedly driven and his art kept his body creatively consumed and exercising filled in the gaps. The combination had allowed him to become successful as well as successfully unsentimental.

  As he sat, his hand absentmindedly picked up the one sentimental thing that he owned – a horrible, tiny sculpture of a butterfly that he’d made for his mom to try to cheer her up after his father and she had gotten in a fight; it hadn’t worked, she’d only cried harder. At the time, he thought it was because he’d done a bad job – he’d only been about eight or so, so what could she have expected? It was only once he was older that he realized it was because it had reminded her of happier times that were never going to come again.

  He didn’t know why he just left it there; maybe because he had no better place to put it; maybe because it was really the only place he ever sat for any extended period of time when he was there aside from the bed while he was sleeping.

  Bringing Cyn here was a mistake.

  Agreeing to her proposition was a mistake.

  But, he couldn’t have stopped himself if he had tried. He knew how much dancing… how much that studio… could mean for her. And for her to refuse him on the principle that she didn’t deserve it – a principle that he was determined to dissuade her from – wasn’t something he wasn’t willing to accept; even if it meant a night spent closer to thoughts and memories and feelings that he’d rather forget.

  The small figurine tumbled from his hand at the knock on his door just as it began to open.

  “Sloane?” Her voice instantly set his body on high alert. He quickly righted the statue and strode over to the door to take the bags out of her hands.

  “You know you’re just cooking for you and me, right?” He stared aghast at the two bags filled with groceries.

  He heard the door shut and her soft footsteps behind him. “Well, you did tell me to get everything and I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just bought things for a few different meals…” She trailed off and Sloane no longer felt her presence behind him. Setting the bags down he turned to see her walking into his living room, taking in his apartment. “Wow… this is not like the one I was showing the other weekend…”

  He chuckled. “Well, there are certain perks to owning the building.”

  “I just love the windows in this place… so much light. And from this side of the building, you must get a great sunset every night.” She turned back to face him, but her eyes were quickly drawn to the rest of the apartment behind him. She took a few steps to the right and he knew exactly what she was looking at.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m not usually home for the sunset, but I guess I would… I guess we will see tonight.” He stared at her, the glowing light from the setting sun streaming over her. It shone through her dress, outlining her incredible body in shadow. Sensing the desire in his gaze, he saw her nipples peak underneath the fabric; his hands gripped the oranges in his hands even harder, wishing that they were cupping those beautifully soft mounds.

  “You have no door to your bedroom?” she asked, incredulously.

  “Why would I need one?”

  “I… I don’t know. I mean, privacy comes to mind…”

  Sloane shook his head slightly, reaching into the bags and beginning to pull out all sorts of produce and meat and cheese and pasta onto his countertop. “It’s fine.” He chuckled.

  “So, you’re cool with people watching you have sex?” She raised an eyebrow, walking towards him. “I didn’t take you for the kinky type, but Tash did say that it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you.”

  Sloane froze, even though he knew she was kidding, his eyes slowly came up to meet hers before he said seriously, “They can’t see anything.”

  The building was also too far and the glass too tinted for anyone to see that far into the apartment. But that was besides the fact that there was never anything to see.

  It was that moment that he realized that she was the first woman to be in his apartment. Hell, he’d given the damn vixen a key. Meanwhile, he’d even kept friends, like Ellie, away from his space just out of pure habit. But Cyn, all he could think about was showing her that she had so much more to offer than just her body.

  Even though he could never be the one to take it.

  Give the Peterson men an inch and they will take a mile.

  “Oh, before I forget.” She took out his keycard and placed it on the counter.

  Sloane bit into his tongue before it could tell her to keep it.

  “Ok, so what do you want?” His cock bulged against the front of his pants; he knew exactly what it wanted.

  He abruptly turned to take the milk and heavy cream over to the fridge, using the door to hide his physical response to her question. “Well, what are my options?”

  “Beef Stroganoff or Fettuccini Alfredo.” There was definitely more food here than just those two meals. But he didn’t question it.

  “Ahh… the beef.” She smiled and decisively nodded her head, immediately reaching for the onion and package of mushrooms. “Do you want to cut the onion?”

  “Sure.” He opened random drawers looking for a cutting board.

  He heard her behind him, pulling out some pots from the opposing cupboards and setting them on the stove. “You seem to have all of the things necessary to cook.”

  “I do,” he began. Before he could stop himself, he mumbled, “Sometimes, just because you have the ability to do something doesn’t mean you have the will to.”

  He heard her sigh as she came to stand next to him. “Well,” she said softly, “that I can understand…” They stood in silent understanding for a moment before she asked, “Are those ready?”

  Sloane handed her the cutting board and she dumped the onions into the pan that was sizzling on the stove. He washed his hands and then turned, resting his elbow on the counter, to watch her cook. He stared mesmerized as she stood stirring the onions, her whole body swaying to the music that seemed to be playing inside of her.

  Cyn’s every movement was infused with the gracefulness of a dancer as though her passion was too great to contain, seeping out from her even in the most unexpected moments. His jaw tightened; bringing a woman here had always seemed wrong, but seeing Cyn standing – dancing - in his kitchen only felt right.

  She turned and stopped abruptly on seeing his gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly looking down at herself. “Did I get something on me? Crap…”

  He laughed. “No. I don’t see anything on you, don’t worry.” Except that dress, which
a growing part of him would have been happy to remove.

  “Oh, good.” She sighed. “Are you entertained watching me cook?” She gave him a dazzling smile.

  “Beyond,” he murmured. “You were dancing.”

  Surprise lit over her features. “Oh, was I?” For the first time though, it wasn’t followed by shame or sadness. Instead she smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and grabbed the package of mushrooms off the counter, adding them into the pan to sauté.

  His eye followed her as she moved to the fridge. A groan ripped through him, quickly disguised with a cough, as she bent over to grab the sour cream. Her dress rising up to give him an almost perfect view of the only thing he felt like eating right now. Closing the refrigerator door, her gaze met his and instantly deepened as she recognized the lust that burned in them. Her eyes dropped as she walked by him and he knew exactly where they had drifted to – that traitorous part of him throbbing at the front of his pants, begging to be set free.

  He stood frozen, trying to control his breathing as she dumped the cream into the pot.

  “Shit!” She jerked back, dropping the spoon. “Ow. Shit. Oww.”

  He was immediately behind her, looking over her shoulder. “What happened? Are you ok?”

  Her head came up to look back at him, her index finger in her mouth. If he wasn’t so concerned, he probably would have orgasmed at the sight.

  Her mouth parted, slowly releasing that damned lucky digit. “I’m ok. I just freaking burned myself.”

  “Let me see.” He’d barely said the words as he reached for her hand, pulling it back to examine the very red end of her finger. “I don’t think it will blister. Do you want ice for it?”

  Even as he asked the question, his voice had begun to trail off, staring at its moist tip. When she didn’t answer, his eyes moved to hers to see her looking at him holding her finger. That gaze then slowly trailed up to and stopped on his mouth. Then, those beautiful lips of hers parted, holding her breath for what she knew he was going to do.

  Pulling her hand slightly more towards him, Sloane head bent and put her injured finger into his mouth, gently soothing the tender flesh with his tongue. He closed his eyes, tasting the sweetness of her mouth on her skin.