SeduceMe Read Online Free Page B

shoulders.
    Be a professional. Be an adult. And for the love of God,
don’t be so jealous!
    But she was jealous. The woman in turquoise had stripped
down to nothing in front of another woman and had let her paint her from head
to toe. She wasn’t squirming nervously or in embarrassment as the artist leaned
in for an up-close-and-personal view of her labia while she continued her work.
No, if anything, the model was clearly turned-on…and anticipating her
multi-partner mural, if the quick rise and fall of her ample chest were any
indication.
    Shana found the woman’s courage and excitement arousing. Her
own breathing picked up a few notches.
    As they passed a male model also getting his final touch up,
it wasn’t just her breathing that accelerated. Her sexual tension mounted. The
model was well-built and fully erect. Funny, but before she’d seen him, she’d
understood—in theory—that all of the painted models were joined together to
create their body scenes, but she hadn’t given real thought as to how they got that way. And something told her it wasn’t as impersonal and
mechanical as “insert Tab A into Slot B”.
    Yvette had mentioned these people typically got it on after
the show, but Shana hadn’t really believed her. Or somehow her subconscious
mind hadn’t allowed her to fully reconcile what Yvette meant.
    But she got it now!
    Good Lord. How naïve could one person be?
    Though, admittedly, she’d never had exposure to sexy
situations like this. She was still a virgin, sad to say. A source of internal
contention, but she wasn’t the type of woman men hit on. At least, not
seriously. Every bit of flattery and the “va-va-voom” comments she’d been the
recipient of had sounded lecherous and felt false to her, particularly when she
was younger and on tour. As if the words uttered and the lascivious looks given
her were bait to trap her and turn the tables on her, so the macho man could
make fun of the fact she’d fallen for a line she was supposed to know was tired
and bogus.
    Meanwhile, all the pencil-thin French and Swedish girls in
the international orchestra, in which she’d earned the prestigious first-chair
position, had been swept off their tiny feet by suave men bearing extravagant
gifts and eloquent professions of unwavering devotion.
    No matter where she went, Shana always stood out. And no
matter the compliments she received or how critically acclaimed her talent, she
always felt like the fat girl at ballerina camp because of the delicate waifs
she’d been surrounded by most of her life.
    A sentiment that prickled the backs of her eyes even years
later and forced her to concentrate on fighting back unexpected tears. Luckily,
she was able to hold herself in check, especially when Toliver interrupted her
painful thoughts.
    “Ah, there’s Mr. Halston,” he said as he inclined his head
toward a man dressed all in black. Black shirt opened at the neck. Black suit
perfectly tailored. Black leather boots that made his designer ensemble sexy
and trendy. And black-as-night hair to top it all off.
    Good Lord . Bruce Wayne and Batman didn’t hold a
candle to this man! He made the term “tall, dark and handsome” pack as much
punch as “short, portly and homely”, for it simply didn’t do him justice. Her
breath caught somewhere in her throat as she stared at the very unexpected
vision before her.
    Yes, Drake Halston was tall. But not like any other
ordinary, tall man. His six-foot-three- or four-inch stature gave him a
commanding presence, made all the more intimidating by his broad shoulders and
muscular frame.
    Yes, he was dark. His obsidian-colored hair was recklessly
stylish and his deep-blue eyes could be mistaken as black in dim lighting. But
he also exuded power and wealth and confidence. There was a dark edge to him
that instantly excited her and created a tickle of desire along her clit.
    Yes, the man was handsome. He had chiseled cheeks and a
strong, clean-shaven jawline. His