The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

Author:Dr. Rebecca Sharp [Sharp, Dr. Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Ellie sighed, snuggling deeper into the soft pillow and mattress beneath her, relishing in its softness and warmth. Even though she fought it, the slivers of consciousness slipped their way into her well-rested mind, reminding her that she had to wake up eventually.

Since when had her bed felt this comfortable in the morning?

She smiled, just enjoying the moment, when the lucid thought hit her that it had never felt this way because this wasn’t her bed.

What happened? What had she done?

She rubbed her eyes, slowing opening them to the memories of what had happened last night. The scene between her and Tristan vividly replaying in her mind as her eyes recognized that she was, in fact, laying in his bed. Slowly moving her head around, she could see that there was no one else in the room, giving her the confidence to slowly roll over and confirm that there was no one else in the bed with her. Turning over onto her left side, she could see that that side of the bed had been left completely undisturbed, the pillows and comforter barely marred by her presence.

Where had Tristan slept?

She wondered with concern knowing that as much as it would have shocked her, he could have slept next to her. Somewhere deep down inside of her warmed at the idea of waking up next to him in the morning. She wondered what his face looked like completely at rest; every time she saw him, he was always so focused, so intense it made her wonder if he ever really relaxed. The closest she had seen him come was when he was drawing her, there was a focused peace over him as if it were just taking a moment to breathe; that rarely lasted, though, since their portrait sessions seemed to be rife with sexual tension.

Ellie gingerly sat up in the bed, realizing with that last thought that she was wrapped in a blanket, but naked underneath. Gathering the material around her, she looked frantically for her clothes, spotting a pile of dark silk on the bench at the end of the bed. On top of her dress sat a crisp, white piece of stationary paper. She picked it up, reading the words scrawled across it:

Good morning Ellie,

I hope you slept well. I had to leave for the office earlier and couldn’t bring myself to wake you. Make yourself at home, whatever you need. I’ll call you later.

Tristan

P.S. – You are exquisite when you sleep. See reverse.

Ellie blushed at his words, in total disagreement with them.

She was not exquisite, hell, she probably drooled in her sleep.

She contented herself to know that if he saw her now, he’d agree that she looked like more of a sea monster than a siren. Flipping over the card, her breath caught. On the back was a small, rough sketch of her in his bed, fast asleep. Her thumb brushed over her face. Here, here she saw herself like he did. Even though it was

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