Chapter 4:

First Claim

I stayed pressed against the kitchen wall long after Marcus left, my wrists tingling where he’d pinned them. My tank top clung to my skin, damp with sweat, and between my thighs, an unwelcome heat pulsed. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, sliding down until I sat on the cool floor. He’d called me out those sketches, the way I lingered and I hadn’t denied it fast enough. Now Mom was still in London for two more days, and the house felt like a trap I didn’t want to escape.

I avoided him the rest of the afternoon, hiding in the studio. But...