Trisha Wolfe

“I can feel your excitement,” Grayson says, smile stretching. “Or is that arousal?” He sniffs the air, making me flush.

I’m tethered so tightly to him, I can feel him in my veins.

I tug my towel higher, wrap it tighter.

“Make sure those thighs are squeezed just as tight,” he remarks.

Nothing stays the same.

Change is the one constant you can depend on.

You either adapt or you don’t.

“With you, Dr. Noble. I belong right here with you.”

My gaze snaps to hers. My hands itch to tear those glasses from her face so I can stare into her eyes unobstructed.

“I want to live. And I want you.”

I won’t accept anything less than her; she’s my other half.

My breath catches as his fingers make contact with my inner thigh.

She’s the artist and I’m her canvas