Chapter 21

chapter twenty-one

Addie

"You know you don't actually have to walk me to class, right?"

Grant shrugs, offering me a boyish grin. "Can't I do something nice for my wife?"

"You already do more than enough nice things for me. You spoil me, remember?" I reply, brushing past him into the art building as he's holding the door open for me like the gentleman that he is.

"Mmm… you mean like last night when I—" I come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway, slamming my hand over his mouth as I glance around to the throngs of people rushing past us.

He's impossible and absolutely determined to make me blush in the worst places possible with his mouth and… his hands. What I'm not going to do is think about how nice he was last night and then be unable to think of anything but him during class.

Which I'm beginning to think has been his goal all along.

"You. Are. Ridiculous. You know that?" I mumble while my eyes dart around the hallway, hoping not to draw extra attention to us.

I realize that the goal of this arrangement is to convince people that our marriage is real, but I'm still trying to get used to the idea of being on anyone's radar after spending so long doing anything I could to blend in.

He places a hand on my hip, then slides his palm to the small of my back and hauls me to him until I'm pressed tightly against every hard inch of his front. Of course, he's wearing a pair of gray sweatpants to class today, even though they should be illegal for men, especially married men, to wear in public. Something I never really gave much thought to until recently.

My fingers grasp at the fabric of his T-shirt as I exhale shakily. It seems entirely unfair that he has this effect on me without even trying.

He takes two steps back until he's leaning against the wall in a more secluded part of the hallway, dragging me with him. While the building is still littered with people making their way to class, it almost feels like we're alone, the rest of the world fading away.

"What if we skipped class today? Went back home… spent the day doing other things," he whispers roughly as his gaze drops to my lips. It's already been established that I'm the equivalent of a girl in crisis when it comes to him, and today it's even worse because not only is he wearing the stupid gray sweatpants but a backward hat too.

I've never skipped a class in my life, but the heated look in his eyes has me considering it.

Just as I'm about to give in and tell him yes, I remember why I can't.

Crap.

Not today, of all days.

I shake my head. "I can't. We're painting a live model today in class, and Dr. Gatti says the project is worth twenty percent of our final grade. He has a no-makeup policy, which means that I have to be there."

Grant sighs. "Yeah, you definitely can't miss that. C'mon, let's get you to class so you can keep your perfect attendance, ArtGirl."

He tosses me a playful wink, reaching for my hand, and for the first time ever… I find myself wanting to break the rules instead of following them.

All for him.

Somehow, I still make it to class on time despite the fact that Grant used the few spare minutes I had to pull me into an empty classroom and kiss me until I was breathless and shaking.

He insisted on walking me all the way to class, even though I assured him I could make it the rest of the way without his help.

Once we're outside the door to my art class, I turn to him, my brow arched. "I have to go. Unless you plan on becoming an art student this late in your college career?"

His smirk spreads into a broad smile. "I mean, I have many talents. But… that is not one of them. See you later?"

I nod. But as I turn to walk away, he catches my hand, halting me. He pulls me to him and kisses me so fiercely that it has my body trembling. His soft yet firm lips capture mine, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth and dancing with mine in a way that I'm not sure is entirely decent for an audience.

A few catcalls and whistles later, he releases me with a grin, his dark ocean eyes hazy and unfocused. "Now, that's the kind of goodbye a husband needs from his wife, ArtGirl."

There's still this part of me that can't believe that somehow we've ended up in this marriage together, regardless of the events that led us here. The lines feel like they're blurring more and more each day, but I'm too afraid to say anything or mention how I feel because I'm worried that while it seems like he's interested in… the physical, I'm not sure that he would be interested in more, and the thought of things ending and him no longer being in my life scares me.

For the most brief moment, when he got the call from his agent, I was terrified that it would be over. Even though technically only one side of the arrangement would have been fulfilled, there was still this intrusive thought that he would leave.

That I'd go back to being alone.

I never knew how truly lonely I was until I met Grant. Sure, I have Earl and Amos and Auggie. And I love them dearly. It's just… it's not the same as what Grant gives me.

With him, I feel more like myself than I've ever been. I'm happier… lighter. The world doesn't feel like it's weighing down on my shoulders as heavily when we're together.

And as much as I love that feeling, it also terrifies me. I'm scared of what it's going to be like when it's over. How will I ever be able to go back to the way it was before I met him?

"Ms. Arceneaux. Good morning!" Dr. Gatti says suddenly from beside me, causing me to jump in surprise. I was too lost in Grant and my thoughts to notice his approach. Not sure how I missed him with his bright teal brocade blazer and matching pants, but clearly, I wasn't paying attention.

He's got on a matching shiny, iridescent silver headband and chandelier earrings that are made of a string of crystals in various shades of blue.

"Bergeron," Grant interjects suddenly.

My art professor turns to face him with a look of confusion written on his face. His thick, bushy brows pinched together. "Pardon me?"

"Her last name. It's Bergeron. She got married." His mouth tilts up into a smug grin, seemingly proud of himself for the way he just publicly claimed me as his.

Dr. Gatti's face lights up, a smile overtaking his face at the news. "Well, then, congratulations are in order. I wish you both many years of happiness. I adore young love. It's so inspiring. So full of wonder and possibility. Finding your muse in a spouse for life… hang on to that, my dears. It is truly something special."

Dr. Gatti has always been my favorite professor, not only because he's incredibly talented and an incredible teacher but because he reminds me of Amos with his eccentric, larger-than-life personality.

"Thank you," I whisper, cutting my eyes to Grant, who's grinning cheekily. "I appreciate that."

"We have a little bit of a snafu on our hands today, unfortunately, so this was just what I needed to brighten my day," he adds, reaching up to rub his temples, exhaling loudly. "Our model for today canceled at the last minute. Food poisoning from bad sushi, unfortunately. I've been planning this for months, and it's going to mess up the entire syllabus."

Darn. Even though I was considering skipping today with Grant, I was actually looking forward to painting a live subject. It's not something I usually do.

"I could do it," Grant says nonchalantly.

Both of our gazes whip to him, my mouth parted in… shock?

"I mean… only if my wife was okay with it that is," he adds.

Pretty sure hearing him call me his wife will never get old, especially when it's around other people, which I guess is the point… but still. I kind of love the way he's making a statement about… us.

"I'm totally good. I mean, it's your junk that will be on display, big guy." I pat his chest teasingly, and he captures my hand with a laugh, hauling me to him.

My heart still races when he touches me, but it's different than it was in the beginning. Now it races because of how much I love it. I'm comfortable with Grant in a way I haven't been with another person, and it happened so gradually I can't actually pinpoint the moment that things began to change. Only that it feels inherently different.

"Hmmmm. You know this might actually be the perfect sprinkle of kismet," Dr. Gatti muses as he stares at my husband with a curious expression. He drags his gaze down his body in a slow perusal, then circles Grant, stroking his short goatee before moving back in front of him. "Would you mind… taking off your shirt?"

"Sure. I would be doing something great for the art department, and my wife is such an activist for the arts… seems like a no-brainer, right?"

Grant looks at me, and when I shrug, he slides his backpack off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor, then reaches behind his neck and pulls his T-shirt off.

Heat pools in my lower belly at the sight of his broad chest and rows of taut muscles, and I wonder if there will ever be a time where I don't feel so… affected by just looking at him.

Probably not.

My eyes follow the path of his chest, down the rows and rows of abs, along the trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband, over the hollow dips of his hips that create the perfect V.

"This isn't a fully nude session, so he would still be in underwear. This project is all about capturing the essence of the human form, enhancing our students' ability to render all aspects of human anatomy in their own style." He gives Grant an approving look. "A lean body, sculpted muscles, a chiseled jawline. He checks all the boxes."

It doesn't bother me, if I'm being honest. He's the one that would have his body on display. I'd rather jump off a cliff than stand in front of a room full of people partially clothed.

Plus, this is how all classically trained artists practice. And my husband does have a body that's worthy of being painted and hung in the Louvre.

I look at Grant, and he catches my gaze for a moment before reaching out and grabbing my hand in his. "Can you give us a moment?"

"Certainly. I'll be inside if you decide to join us! Toodles!" Dr. Gatti says jovially before sauntering off.

Once he's gone, Grant looks at me with an earnest expression. "If you're not okay with this, then I'm good. I'm only offering because I know this class is important to you."

I nod. "Oh yeah. You'll be everyone's knight in shining armor with all of your muscles. How will the art department ever repay this favor?"

A beat passes, and the corner of his lip curves into a shit-eating grin. "Oh, ArtGirl , I can think of a few ways you ca?—"

My hand flies to his mouth, covering it before he can say something else that causes me to actually catch fire in the middle of the hallway.

"Just go. God." I laugh, nodding my head toward the classroom. "Go. Please ."

As expected, Dr. Gatti is beyond thrilled that Grant will be filling in for us today. As well as every woman and even a few guys, judging by the dreamy sighs and longing stares as he steps onto the raised platform in the center of the room in only a pair of tight, black boxer briefs.

Even I'm having a hard time focusing, and I see him every day.

Mostly with clothes though… but I am thinking that should change. Maybe. Not that I could say that to him.

"Okay, settle down, everyone. Settle down," Dr. Gatti says with a knowing smile, raising his hands above him to garner attention as he stands beside Grant, who's now perched on a velvet chaise in the middle of the platform. "As I'm sure you've probably come to realize, Ronaldo will not be joining us today. He's unfortunately come down with a case of food poisoning, but we were able to find a replacement last minute."

He sweeps a long arm toward Grant. "This young man has so graciously offered to join us for today's session. Everyone, please give him a warm welcome."

A chorus of hellos echo around the room, and he lifts his hand in a short wave, followed by a cocky smirk, not looking the least bit fazed to be sitting in front of a room full of people in nothing but his underwear.

I'm the one who's frazzled, and I'm not sure if it's because he's so ridiculously hot that I can't stop staring long enough to even get my charcoal out of my backpack and to secure my smock around my waist or the fact that every single eye in the room is on my husband.

He's comfortable with the horde of attention because he's used to experiencing it. The polar opposite of me.

I finally get my apron tied and my pencils out of the zipper pouch I keep them in and take a seat on my stool in front of the blank canvas.

Since meeting Grant for the first time, I've wanted to sketch him, but I've been too afraid to ask, so the fact that I get to do it for a grade is exciting.

My eyes flit back to the platform, where he's laid back on the crushed-velvet chaise. Dr. Gatti has posed him exactly the way he wants, with Grant's arm thrown over his head, strategically showing off all the sculpted muscles of his arms and abdomen but also in a way that looks as if he's ready to take a nap. And while I can appreciate his body, it's his eyes that make him truly magnificent. His dark, blue irises seem to smolder as they find me, holding mine for so long that my cheeks begin to burn. His lip twitches as he gives me a wink, and my throat runs dry.

How is he this hot?

It's ridiculous. For anyone to be so attractive, so effortlessly.

What's worse is I know all of the dirty, delicious things that he's capable of when it's just the two of us.

A dreamy sigh sounds beside me, and I glance over to see a girl staring at Grant with an awestruck look in her eyes. "God, he is the most beautiful man I've literally ever seen."

I do my best to focus on my sketch, but as loudly as she's talking to her friend, it's next to impossible to ignore the conversation happening. Every few minutes, she's got something new to say.

"And Jesus, do you see what he's packing? Those briefs are like god's gift to women. What?" She pauses when her friend giggles beside her. I see her elbow her through my periphery. "I'm only speaking the truth. You got eyes, girl."

I exhale, tightening my grip on the charcoal so tightly that I'm worried it'll snap. It's not like I'm blind—I clearly know exactly what she's talking about. I am very well aware that Grant is stupidly hot. I just didn't expect to feel so… possessive over him. So jealous that these girls are even having the chance to look at him.

That's ridiculous, I know, but I can't help it.

"I'm pretty sure I've heard about him, and apparently, the sex is amazing. Clearly not surprising because look at what he's working with." She giggles in a high-pitched voice that makes my ears ring.

My god. This is art, and this girl is behaving like a horny teenager instead of being respectful to the model, which is just… gross.

"Everyone," Dr. Gatti says loudly over the hushed whispers echoing through the room. "Let's take a break and reconvene in ten minutes." He hands Grant a robe that he shrugs into and secures around his waist.

I'm nearly fuming as Grant crosses the classroom toward me. I feel silly for feeling like this, but it was infuriating overhearing those girls objectify him like that.

He's more than just his looks and his… package. He's incredible, and they won't ever get the chance to find that out. Because he's mine .

"Hey, baby," he murmurs, his raspy voice velvet in my ears as he walks up and presses a lingering kiss to the corner of my lips. My gaze drifts to the girls beside me, and I almost laugh at the look of pure shock on their faces.

"Hi. You did amazing up there."

He grins, brushing his hair off his forehead with a shrug. "Not much to it, but I'm glad I could help out. And get to see you in your element. Makes me wish we had more classes together." His voice lowers as he leans in and whispers, "Maybe more study dates?"

My pulse comes alive, racing wildly at the memory.

"Grant," I warn.

His grin only widens into a smile that makes the dimple in his cheek pop. "Gotta go back up there, but I'll see you after."

When he kisses me this time, it's heated in a way that has me burning from the inside, wishing we weren't in this classroom. He pulls away, tossing me a quick wink before walking away.

"Uh… is that your boyfriend?" the girl beside me immediately asks.

"No. He's my husband ," I respond smugly.

I pick up my charcoal and move back to my drawing, but before I can even press it to the paper, I pause, turning back to her, unable to stop myself.

"Oh, and just so you know, whatever you heard… it's better ."