Page 15 of Beautiful Monster

Today, my plan was to set everything up, take stock of what I need, and make a few sketches, but now that he's done everything, what will I do?

Nothing about Alexander Caldwell makes sense to me. Nothing he does fits the expectation I had built in my head. The selfish, inconsiderate lothario is not the same man who buys me painting supplies and treats my artwork like it has value.

There is sweat glistening, yet again, on his shoulders. I know I should tear my eyes away, but I’m still trying to make sense of him. He tenses as his gaze stays on my face. I break the spell by looking back at the supplies.

Quickly, he clears his throat. "I know it's hot in here, but I can kick on the fans and close the shutters so you're not roasting. I hope you don't mind the noise because I'll be working in here too."

I nod as I drop my bag.

"And if you want anything to drink, the fridge is stocked. Help yourself."

He's busying himself, trying not to look at me.

As he talks, my eyes braving a glance at his chiseled abs, I can't help but think about the woman yesterday. Was he having sex with her in his room before I saw her? Is she his girlfriend? Does he love her?

Like always, my mind takes it a step too far, and I start imagining his feelings for her. Overcome with lust. Does the thought of her touch on his skin keep him up at night, like he can't live without her? Is he obsessed with the shape of her cheekbones and the way she steals his breath when she's near?

"Say something, Sunny," he says with a laugh, a teasing yet intimate tone.

I blink out of my inappropriate thoughts. I was too busy picturing him burying himself in that pretty blonde and thinking about how rough their sex was.

I clench my thighs together picturing the expression on his face when he comes.

"Um…what?" I stammer.

Get it together, Sunny.

He lets out another clipped chuckle. "Little rain cloud."

Then he walks past me and opens the door to the small room at the back. "I was just telling you the bathroom is back here. Now, you tell me what you were daydreaming about."

My cheeks flush with heat. "Nothing."

"Whatever you say, rain cloud."

Turning my back to him, I pull out my sketchbook and pencils to start on the grid for the mural. I desperately need to get my head out of the clouds and focus or I'm never going to get this thing done.

I feel his gaze on me for another moment before he goes over to the kitchen area. There are crystal blue glass tiles piled along the floor in stacks, and I watch him measure the area around the sink—he must be putting up a backsplash. His back muscles stretch as he leans over, and my gaze absorbs the way the sunlight catches on his balmy skin.

Cadence's friends do not look that good without a shirt on, and I see them all the time. Fischer is bulky with muscles, but I've never been rendered speechless by the cords of his biceps or that deep V along his stomach that leads to somewhere I'm almost afraid and yet hungry to see.

He catches me looking again, so I turn my head back down to the sketchbook.

"Mind if I put on some music?" he asks.

"Not at all."

A moment later, his phone is hooked up to the speakers almost hidden along the ceiling and something soothing and sexy comes on. I find myself nodding along to the beat. He sings quietly in his corner, his silky smooth voice mumbling along with the music, blending harmonically with the sound.

As he glances over his shoulder, he catches me staring.

"You like it?"

I nod.

"It's Sam Cooke."

He smiles when he realizes I have no idea who that is.