Eleanor's POV
I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach, and it had nothing to do with holding a pose. It was just being here, alone with him in this quiet room. Every time his intense gaze lifted from the canvas to study me, I felt it like a physical touch, supercharging my awareness.
It was bringing everything back. The memory of his hands on me, the way he'd touched and fondled me, the feeling of his mouth on my skin and breast… it all came rushing back so vividly it was like it was happening all over again.
I needed to get these dirty thoughts out of my head.
"Is it alright if I speak?" I asked, my voice a little too high.
He nodded, not looking up from his canvas. Then he picked up his phone, typed for a second, and a smooth, digital voice filled the space between us. "You can go ahead."
I hesitated, scrambling for a safe topic. "I was just wondering… what made you interested in art? Was it something you always knew, or a hobby you picked up?"
