Hateful Desire by Marianne Willis

Author:Marianne Willis [Willis, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vampires and Shapeshifters, Witches, Paranormal
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2014-05-05T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The slam of cupboards accompanied by a loud blender towed her out of a listless sleep. Rumpled sheets from the empty spot beside her confirmed where Chayton had slept. Amber groaned at the vague memory of snuggling into his warmth sometime throughout the night. Great, she no doubt made things awkward between them. She threw off the sheet, and gasped. No grazes marred her knees. Had he used his saliva again? She snatched her robe off the floor, tied her waist with the pink silk, and followed the noise down the hall.

At the counter, Chayton sipped a protein shake while preparing two sandwiches. He did not turn, but stiffened as though sensing a presence in the room. A fitted black singlet stretched the confines of his tanned muscles. Any woman would feel safe wrapped in such a solid embrace. No wonder she had snuggled close to him last night. “Good morning,” she said, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Morning,” he called over his shoulder. “Help yourself to anything.”

Anything? Her gaze fell to the taut buttocks clad in grey pants. “Thanks.”

He wheeled, and she glanced at the day-old stubble coating his jaw. How would it feel rubbed against her lips, her breasts, along her…

“You left this in the trunk,” he said, picking up a black binder. “I found it last night.”

Her face heated like roasted coals and she dashed forward, snatching the folder out of his hand. “You didn’t look inside, did you?”

He blinked and shook his head. “No, I swear. Why are you so…?”

His words faded as several loose pictures slipped from the folder and onto the floor. She dove to pick them up, but he was already on the ground, collecting the ones she’d taken a year ago at Grandfather Mountain.

“Is this your work?”

Over the years, she stored her photos within this portfolio. Her pictures were her babies and the thought of him viewing them made sweat break out along her nape. As he flipped through each one with care, taking his time assessing the images, she stood trembling.

“Amber.” He grinned. “These are really good.”

Air eased past her lips, and it was such a relief to exhale a breath. “Are you just saying that?” Her parents always scoffed at her images. She sometimes wondered if her photography was good enough.

He glanced at her. “I mean it,” he said, pointing to the mountain slopes on an early winter’s morning. “The dark blue of the landscape coated in white snow, and the angle this is taken…it almost has an eerie beauty about it.”

She bit her lip. That was what she had aimed for, and the fact he could depict what she captured caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Chayton Locklear liked her pictures.

“Have you ever considered doing more with your work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of selling to websites, have you thought about becoming an event photographer, starting an official business?”

No, she hadn’t. Witchcraft had always been her first priority; it was the reason she worked from home, unable to move out.

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