Unbroken by Lynne Connolly

Author:Lynne Connolly [Connolly, Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-11-06T14:27:40.400000+00:00

* * * *

He’d not worked this hard since he’d prepared for his first show, but Vashti brought out a creativity in Zoltan that he thought he’d lost. Every time he looked at her, he felt a surge of inner fire.

Watching her now, lying naked on the chaise while he put the finishing touches to the last clay figure, a pang of regret shot through him. Their affair was always going to end when the work was finished. She had her life to sort out, and he’d be busy with the upcoming shows, too busy to give Vashti the time she deserved. And he knew how obsessed he became. It wouldn’t be fair to subject her to that. She needed attention, not neglect.

After their memorable afternoon with the clay, she’d tried to sculpt, but her figures owed more to enthusiasm than to skill, and she’d gone back to reading. Trying to find a new career, she said, although every day she told him something about modelling until he felt sure she was planning to return to it.

He’d call that a shame. His lover had a lively mind and a quick intelligence. The books she studied while he sculpted her were rapidly scanned and dispensed with.

Truth be told, he could have managed without her a week ago. Originally he’d planned to get rid of her after the first week, after the initial sketches, but now he didn’t want to let her go. He knew he should. He yearned to spend more time with her, but she fitted into his home too well, as if she’d always been there. And she turned to fire in his arms every night.

All reasons to break it off before she became indispensable to him.

He put down his smoothing tool and took one last look. There she lay, skin gleaming like honey in the bright lights, a light fuzz of growth shielding her pussy. He’d asked her to let it grow, he wanted to see the colour and add a little texture to his work. Most of all, he wanted to know what it looked like, the shape, the way the curls flattened crisply under his hands, and at other times coyly shielded her innermost secrets. The artist in him balked at the way her clit peeked through her bare labia, blatant, leaving him little to uncover with his other senses.

Her amazing eyes owned him every time she glanced up from her book to smile. She was easy now, without the shadows he’d seen that first day, and done his best to dispel.

Time to go. He had to work on the rest of the installation and fairly soon, he’d go to the Hayward and take a trip across to the Guggenheim to plan the layout. If she went with him, they’d be a couple, he knew it. No going back then until they’d committed or decided to formally part.

He shied away from thinking about it any more. “Ready for lunch?”

She swung her feet down from the couch and reached for her robe but he forestalled her.

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