Find Me Alastar

He smiles broadly and I can tell he’s loving my reaction to his home. “Upstairs is upstairs.” He

smirks. He stands and grabs my hand, leading me upstairs as I look around in awe. We walk slowly up the

wide staircase and down the hall. My eyes stare up at the ornate ceilings that are all at least twelve feet

high. “This is my room.” He holds his hand out and lets me enter the room first.

My eyes widen. “Oh,” I whisper. “It’s…” I hesitate. I have no words for this. “It’s like a movie.”

A large four-poster, dark timber bed with different chocolate shades of velvet bed coverings sits in

the middle of a rich antique tapestry carpet. A large, black leather wingback chair sits in the corner. And

against the back wall is a doorway though to a modern large bathroom and walk-in wardrobe. This is

luxury-sheer luxury-and straight out of a magazine. There isn’t a thing out of place in here and my eyes

seek him out. “It’s so neat.” I smirk.

He smiles cheekily and raises a brow. “I like neat.”

A huge smile covers my face. “I like messy.”

What must he think when he comes to my bedroom?

He smirks. “I know.”

There is a huge painting above the bed of a naked woman.

My eyes are drawn to the picture. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper in awe. The sun is shining down on her

from above, through a window, and she has long, wavy, chocolate hair that covers her breasts. She is

lying down naked on a bed similar to the one she lays above. Her cream knitted blankets are strategically

placed to be draping around her. She is staring at the artist sexily.

Alastar’s eyes linger on the painting and he smiles softly. “Aye, that she is.”

I look between him and the painting as he gazes at it adoringly. Oh no, does he know this woman? “Do

you know her?” I frown.

He shakes his head. “No, this picture is very, very old.”

I smile a grateful smile. Thank frigging God he doesn’t know her. I can’t compete with that shit. That

woman is sex on legs. I put my hand on my chest in relief.

“Do you know who she is?” he asks as he gazes up at her.

I look up to the painting. “Is she someone famous?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Hmm, should I know her? Am I going to sound dumb if I say no? I try my hardest to think who she

might be. Damn, I got nothing.

“No, I don’t know who she is.”

His eyes hold mine and with a soft smile he seemingly changes the subject. “It’s very nice to have you

in my bedroom, Emmaline.”

It’s there again, the electric current running between us, whispering in my ear how badly I want this

man-how badly my body wants to please him.

Once again, I wait for instruction as my chest constricts. I desperately want to kiss him. But I wait,

unsure what it is he wants from this date of ours tonight. He hasn’t touched me yet. Maybe he’s over his

infatuation already?

“What would you like to do?” he asks seductively.

Oh, I know what I want to do. “I want to do whatever you want to do.” I breathe as, once again, my

stupid heart nearly fails me.

He smirks. “You want to do whatever I want to do?” He raises a sexy brow in question.

I nod, unable to peel my eyes away from his.

“I would like to watch you take a shower.”

My eyes widen. What?

Dear, God, not that.

“Ahh…” I hesitate. He has never really seen me naked before. I mean, we are naked at my house, but

it is always in the dark or in a semi-lit room. Watching me take a shower seems way more intimate than

having sex.

“What’s the problem?” he breathes in his velvety, seductive voice.

“Are you going to get in with me?” I nervously ask.

His eyes hold mine and he softly shakes his head. “No. I just want to watch you.”

Holy fuck, I’m totally screwed. When he really sees my body, he will probably run for the hills.

“That’s a weird request,” I whisper.

A trace of a smile crosses his face. “I’m a weird man.”

“Seems so,” I mutter under my breath.

He walks to the door that leads into the bathroom. Shit, he’s serious.

“Bathroom is this way.” His sexy eyes drop down my body and he licks his lips.

I close my eyes. God, help me. If this is his thing, then I want to do it. It just seems so out of place

when we haven’t even kissed or anything. But maybe that’s why he wants to do it?

The sound of my blood is pumping through my head as my fear escalates. Just do it.

I nervously walk into the bathroom, and he leans in to turn the shower on.

He disappears into his bedroom and then reappears with a chair. He sits it in the middle of the

bathroom, facing the shower, and takes a seat.

The blood drains from my face. Can’t you dim the freaking lights or something?

Kiss him, distract him, make him forget all about seeing me naked. I walk over to him and bend to kiss

him but he turns his head.Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Don’t touch me.”