Chapter 10

Posey

Ledger Thorne is a vibe. Tall, dark, and quiet. Haunted eyes. Hidden secrets. And out-of-this-world handsome.

The air thickens between us as he rises from the couch, tension palpable in the silence. He strides to the middle of the room, each step deliberate, and I hold my breath in anticipation of what's to come.

When I asked to see the artwork on Ledger's chest, I never thought he'd actually take off his shirt for me. The dim light casts shadows across him. Giving him my full attention, I wait with bated breath for his next move.

He raises a dark brow, tugging at his white button-down. He pulls it from his pants and places his hands on the bottom button.

Am I drooling?

My eyes are glued to his every movement. There's a soft tune flitting through the air, making this moment even more sexual than it already is. He undoes the first button, and I nearly come unglued.

My heart's beating frantically in my ribcage, begging to be freed. This man is a god. A sinful god, put on this earth to tempt me. And he's doing just that as he undoes another button, working his way up slowly.

I clench my thighs together, desperate to quench the hunger growing there. Time stands still as he moves in slow motion.

I'm eager to see more as his lower tummy comes into view. A six-pack unlike anything I've ever seen with a patch of dark hair traveling down below his trousers. It's glorious, and I hold my breath as he continues unbuttoning.

It's tortuous. The gleam in his dark eyes fixates on me, and I don't know where to look. It's sensual, having all his attention on me as he removes his shirt.

Is this how men feel when women strip for them? Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle.

Sure, I want to see his artwork, but at what cost? Because this is insanely provocative. Enticing. Seductive. And every other word I can think of for erotic—salacious, sinful, titillating, naughty, risqué, racy, spicy, and so many more.

My heart is in my throat. My skin's on fire.

He keeps going, unbuttoning each button at an agonizingly slow speed. "Is this what you want?" his deep voice husks out. It's throaty. Needy. He sounds as desperate as I feel, and he raises a dark brow.

His chiseled jaw is set in stone, giving nothing away as to how this is affecting him. His deft fingers make quick work of the last few buttons, and a glorious masterpiece peeks at me from behind the white material.

He pushes the shirt off his shoulders, and it falls in a silent heap to the floor.

Wow.

I'm breathless.

I'm left here, gawking at so much skin covered in ink. I rise from the couch slowly, inching my way closer. I stare at his tattoos. The skull covering his right pec, and the heart on his left. I move as if on autopilot, closer to him, in a trance from all the ink.

"You designed these?" I ask in a breathy whisper.

He glances at the ink sprawled all over his skin and back at me. "Yeah."

I'm standing so close to him that I could reach out and touch him. God, I want to touch him. I want to trace my finger over the black lines of each drawing. I want to lick a path from his navel to his neck.

I'm so turned on I feel faint. I wonder if he'd catch me if I went down. Would he put his hands on me?

Would he revive me with a kiss?

I've never wished for anything more than I wish for that right now.

I need to touch him. It starts as this thought that radiates out to my fingertips, my muscle memory taking over as I raise my hand, my mouth growing incredibly dry.

With a snap, he catches my wrist in his hand, his eyes boring into mine. "Posey," he breathes.

Will he kiss me?

Please.

My body's numb.

There's a knock at the door, jolting me in my spot, and Ledger drops my hand. He's already putting his shirt back on as I try to shake myself out of this spell he has me under. He moves quickly to answer the door, and I spin slowly to see who's there.

"You ready?" Lazarus spits out as soon as he sees me.

Ledger steps in front of me. "I'll walk her out of the club," he says as if he doesn't trust anyone else with the job.

Lazarus wrinkles his nose in disdain, but growls out a begrudging, "Fine."

I follow as Ledger leads me out of the room and down a long hallway. He places his hand at the small of my back, and I hate that it makes my skin prickle with heat.

We move through the club without a word, and I give him a tiny wave goodbye as he watches me climb into the back of a Range Rover.

The door slams, and I know he can no longer see me through the dark tint of the window. Even though he never turns away.

He stands on guard, watching the car pull away from the club. My phone vibrates from my purse a few minutes later, and I pull it out, staring at the message from Ledger.

Your turn.

I study the message, wondering what he could mean. Does he want to see tattoos covering my body? I don't have any to show him.

Or does he want something else? Something that makes me vulnerable to him like he was to me earlier?

It was never about seeing him without a shirt. That was just a bonus. It was about seeing his artwork. A piece of him he doesn't share with others.

As soon as I get home, I rush to my room, looking for the perfect piece of my soul to share with Ledger.