Chapt 11

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Celeste

My scalp prickles with apprehension as I come to a realization that the tall and brooding man standing beside my Audi car- actually, leant against it, is someone that I know.

Draped in a large gray shirt that tightens around his biceps and dark black jeans, the man's curly hair topples over his head as his face is nearly engraved into his phone screen. His thumbs fiddle with the device for a few seconds before he presses the button on the side, locking it. He stuffs it into his dark pants.

There's a building flame inside of my core. It inflames my skin, sending full sickness over me entirely.

The exiting of the building I was in had come to an abrupt stop due to the sight of him, but at a leisured pace, I begin to find my rhythm again. The click click of my heels can be heard chipping against the dark pavement as the distance between us is lessened. My head tilts upwards in confidence as I meet him, and his look assures me that he sees no doubt.

His lips part. He runs his tongue between them gently and gives them a short coat of wetness. The very crease of his mouth catches his tongue, his teeth pressing down a bit to stop its movement. His eyes run down my attire before he meets my eyes again, sucking his tongue back in and pulling his lower half from my car. Great. Now I'll have to wash it.

"Is there any reason why you know of my whereabouts, Mr. Huxley?" I ask him.

His chest rises a bit as he inhales, gathering a breath before speaking. "I have a tracker on your car" he says nonchalantly.

I suck in a breath, my eyes widening at what he's said. Is he actually insane or is this a facade? Why the hell would he put a tracker on my car?

"I'm kidding. You can thank your friend Dacre for posting that he would have an event here for his photography" he says, but suspicious raises.

"Where did you see him post that?" I ask.

"It doesn't really matter, Celeste. I saw it, and I'm here" he dismisses me, leaving me to roll my eyes at him. Why does he never answer my questions? Where did he see Dacre post anything. Why the hell did he show up here after going mia?

My subconscious screams at me to interrogate him further but with the way he looks so bored with the conversation at its entirety, I decide to just move on to why he's here.

"Why?" I ask. Jeez. Too rude, Celeste. I clear my throat to lessen the blow that I'm sure is already there.

He frowns at my tone but nonetheless answers me. "I'm here for you. You said that you wanted to do body painting and I'm here to be your canvas. I was a few seconds away from going inside to get you, I had no idea what time you'd come out".

I nod, sucking in a good breath. I had forgotten about my lie for needing a body canvas. I just needed to come up with something to say, but I guess it'd be a few pros to the cons. I'd get to see him shirtless, we'd probably have wine again, and he may feed me. Sounds all good to me.

A small smile rises on my face. "I was waiting for you to come from hiding in your lair to finally do what I so politely requested" I tease.

He puts on a sarcastic laugh as he steps closer to me. He dips his head down towards me, but is still no match due to our height difference. "I'd like to show you around if you'd like". His smile is sinister, making me hope to never be invited to such a dark place with him. Who knows how many souls he's reaped upon.

Words fail me for a moment. "Home, please" I stammer lightly before brushing past him, taking the keys that were present in my hand the entire time and hitting the unlock button. The sound chirps and I hurry to pull my door open before he can even process or try to fill in the blanks from my sentence.

My body sighs a relief although I'm sure he can see me through my windows. Tint. I need to get at least a bit of tint. It's like an aquarium here. I'm the fish, everyone else are the viewers. My body fails me in terms of movements and soon I am forced to roll my window down, adhering to the man knocking at it.

"You seem tense. What's wrong with you?" He asks, anxiety canvased on his face. Tense? Do I? I'm a bit hungry, and irritable now that he is here, but maybe he's just seeing things.

I don't answer him.

He finds a solution anyways.

"Look... if you want me to come back another day, that's perfectly fine" he bargains. No. He's just worked all week, I wouldn't dare waste his time that way. Plus, no pros for me!

I shake my head, my eyes absent against his. "No, today is fine. I just... maybe I'm just a bit hot. I should really get home into the air conditioning" I pant.

Without a thought he reaches into my car and twists the dial for air conditioning, letting the cool air run through my vents. "Are you sure your diploma was legit?" He asks me, his brows creasing for a small moment.

I squint my eyes. "Put your foot under my back tire".

He chuckles lightly, an amused one. "Go ahead".

I roll my eyes. With a firm grip around my steering wheel, for the first time in my life I actually have the urge to physically hurt a person. I want to run my tire over his foot but keep it there and wait util he begs me to let up. I don't. I pull away and look over at him.

"Let's just go. Get into your car and follow me" I say, wanting this little game to be over with.

He scoffs, stepping back and throwing his hand across his stomach. He acts as if I've just said something that was either offensive or incredibly funny. "Follow you? You don't even go half the speed I do. We'd still be in the parking lot ten minutes later" he jokes. I don't laugh.

I put my car in drive and pray to God that his foot isn't actually under my tire. Pressing the gas, I maneuver my car out of the space and begin the drive to my home. In just fifteen minutes I arrive, but somehow he is already there. I don't want to hear it. I pull myself out of my car and hold a hand up as his lips part. He laughs instead of speaking and it makes me stop.

Xyle is laughing? A genuine laugh? It's beautiful. He sounds so happy.

I don't want him to recoil laughing and freeing himself from the hard cuffs he has around his wrists, so I proceed the way into my house. He follows in directly after me and takes a seat against the couch. His legs are spread, his back against the pillows, his eyes on mine. My breaths escape my body in shallow ways. I don't know why I feel as if he is some sort of... no, that is not what I am thinking... is it? No, he isn't attractive.

I stop my overthinking and face him with the harsh reality of my horrible thoughts of him written all over my face. "Let's start. I don't want you to be here any longer than you need to be" I allow a lie to slip right through my teeth. I've actually enjoyed his company in the past times I've had it.

He lifts his back away from the pillows, leaning up to press his elbows into his thighs. Such a dominating and alluring pose. I shake my head, hoping to swoosh the thoughts away. I can't face the reality of thinking this way about him. It's wrong, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to make me shut the thoughts down immediately as it would probably feel repulsive to him, as it should to me as well.

But why don't I feel that way in this moment? He doesn't seem like the guy I've always known. He seems like the Xyle that only exists in this moment, and he seems fairly nice. His jaw isn't as tense, he isn't scowling, and he's not being mean.

His lips press into a thin line as he stands himself up. It almost amazes me at how he's not countering back. He raises an arm over his head and grabs his shirt at the nape of his neck.

Pulling if off in one swift movement, it slides like butter against a piece of bread. He drops it onto the couch. I can't help but watch as his pecks flex lightly as he moves. The one tattoo that paints his skin has never looked more attractive to me than in this very moment. It nearly makes me compliment it.

My eyes fixate against his skin that looks as if it would be so smooth under my fingertips.

"Don't strain your eyeballs, love".

My eyes peer up to his. The creases of my mouth rise as my lips form into a small smile, scoffing at his words. Don't strain my eyeballs? I roll my eyes but catch a glimpse of his jaw tensing at my reaction. It clicks to me that he doesn't like when I roll my eyes, but what do I care? I turn myself on my heels and enter into the second bedroom, looking for the beige box that holds most of my painting supplies. I find it and take a large floor cover to put underneath him so that I won't ruin the floors.

I sit the box onto the new center piece that's come in yesterday and open it to pull the paint out. I begin to get things ready all the while I can feel a certain burn at my lower back. Ignoring it completely, I grab a paint pallet and apply the colors I'd like to paint him in. Pink, beige, brown, yellow, and white. Once to my fulfillment, I turn to him. He raises his eyes and gives me a small, almost nonexistent smile to keep me from being focused on what he was doing.

"Should I grab a chair?" He asks me.

I shake my head. I don't want to risk getting paint on my new chairs. "You'll need to be standing" I inform him. "How much do you care about these jeans?" I step closer to him, holding a single paintbrush in my hand.

He briefly looks down at himself, making a quick decision.

"Not much" he answers.

I smile a bit as I dip the paintbrush into the paint. "Then we should start". I pick up the beige color, the exact one to match my drapes, and hold the brush towards his body, quickly making a decision about where I want to start. I stray away from his tattoo, not wanting to cover it. A slight breath falls from his lips as I reach closer, his breath hitching. My eyes raise to look at his face for a small moment before. His jaw is tense, but I still proceed. Pressing the paintbrush against his skin, his breathing really stammers. I look up to see that his eyes are closed.

"Are you okay?" I whisper, wanting to be sure before I continued. I pull the tip of the brush away from his skin, hoping to relax his tense body.

He nods, opening his eyes. "I've never done this before. The paint is cold" he tells me, looking down at me. I'm not sure if I'm correct but it seems as if fear is in his eyes.

I smile a bit, pulling my eyes away from his. I look down onto the space above his peck where I've just painted. "Yes, it is. It'll get better. Your body will be used to it soon". I press the brush against him again, coloring his body with the wet material.

I draw a line down his body, tracing over the most cherished parts of his tanned skin. The paint flows down so smoothly, and his body reacts so beautifully. Breathing in and out, he stands as still as he can. The line leads down past his pecks, now reaching the top where his abs begin. I continue, wanting to stop right before his waistline, and I do.

I pull the brush away and pick another color. Before I press it against him, I feel the burning against my face. I don't look up at him, I steady my gaze against his arms where I'd like to paint along the thick veins protruding his skin.

I continue painting his abdominal area before I nearly encounter his tattoo. For all I know, that is the only tattoo he has.

"I like your tattoo" I murmur, sending a line of pink around it. My line is very defined, I make sure not to decorate it at all. It looks so wonderful in it's pure state, and I wouldn't want to ruin a perfect canvas.

His chest rises as he inhales to speak to me. "Thank you. It's very important, one of the most cherished things on my body besides this" he holds his hand up and shows me the silver ring on the pinky of his left hand. It wraps nicely around his finger, not being too tight or too loose. It looks perfect.

I briefly look up at his face. "I'd like to paint your arms, I don't want to ruin it" I whisper.

Surprisingly, his voice is nearly as soft as mine in this moment to show his vulnerability. This must mean so much to him. "I don't want to take it off" he says.

I frown, fearing that I've hit a soft spot. "I'll just stay above your wrist on your right arm". I step closer to him and press white onto his shoulder, nipping his neck a bit.

Instantly the mood changes and the dark cloud is no longer over him. "I think you did that on purpose" he smiles a bit.

I mirror his emotions, smiling back at him. "I didn't" I say, dipping the brush into the paint again and attempting to go at his shoulder again but he makes a firm grasp at my wrist.

It sends a ring of fire there, but also a chill of coolness. I can't believe he can make me feel this, especially since I don't want to. He's gentle yet he's holding me tight enough to show that he doesn't want me to go at it again. He takes his other hand and dips his finger onto the pallet, directly into the yellow.

Before I know it his finger is touching my nose. I pull away as my face scrunches up, obviously surprised at his actions. He's just put paint onto my nose! My smile remains as I look over at him, seeing him tilt his head towards the ceiling, letting out a loud laugh. He splays his hand over his stomach. The laughter that erupts from his belly is enough to jumpstart mine.

I laugh for a second before dropping the brush onto the floor cover and sticking my finger into the beige. While he's so deep into his laughter, I step closer to him and press my finger along his jawline, sending a full line of decoration there.

He inhales sharply as he catches me with both of his hands, for sure ruining my clothes as he pulls my body flush against his. "How about I help you decorate your clothes? They look so bland without the yellow and brown here to make it all better" he holds me tightly.

I squeal as I try my hardest to pull away from him, failing miserably and making a bigger mess than intended. He crosses his tanned arms over my entire body and brings me in for a large bear hug, keeping me confined.

"Xyle, let me go" I laugh, still trying my hardest but he doesn't, he only mirrors my laugh with a much rougher tone.

He makes me feel as if I'm running a fever with the way my body feels all hot now that his arms are all around me. I inhale and allow crisp air to filter my lungs. My squirming has never stopped so I proceed with my attempt to get away from him.

My heels press deeply into the floor cover and I nearly drop the pallet. It makes me realize that I still have it. I hold it upright and press it against his legs. He loosens his grip around me for a moment before tightening it back again.

"I told you I didn't care about these jeans" he murmurs "but since you ruined them, I sort of think I do". The tension in his voice is overbearing at this point and I'm not sure if I can take it anymore. The crippling feeling of his arms around me swamp me and I'm not sure how to feel.

"They're ugly anyways" I tease, my voice soft as I try to pull away again.

I can almost hear his eyebrow perching up. "Are they?" He asks, his tone condescending. He's reaching for the pallet.

I don't want him to get it. I try to pull away but it doesn't happen. He grabs it, but loosens his grip around me. In triumph, I pull away, but as quick as I was flushed against his body the first time, I'm flush against it again. This time, I'm facing him.

He dips his finger into pink and smears it across my cheeks while I protest, still having him playfully assault me. When he's done, he drops the pallet but doesn't loosen his hands around my body. After a few second I don't resist anymore and we both stand there with our chests pushed against one another. Sweat began to glisten my face and body and I feel so hot with him touching me. There was a clear view of the mess I had made, written all over his face, and it looked so beautiful.

My heart began to boom like a drum inside of my body, and I'm sure he could feel it too, because I could feel his.

"You made a big mess, Celeste" he breathes out, sending his delicious breath down to fan across my nose.

I swallow, looking at what I can see of his painted chest. "You made an even bigger one" I counter, my voice sounding as soft as it can be. After all, he's the one that smeared paint onto my body in a playful way first.

I pant shallow breaths as silence fills the air, only our breaths going against it. His grip around me is still firm, and I don't want him to let go.

I can feel his pelvis pressing into me. "What are you going to do now that you've messed up a perfect canvas?" He asks me. I don't know what to say. I can barely focus as I feel him.

Words fail me for the second time today. "Have you wipe all this off and stand here to actually get things done" I say.

He exhales, shaking his head as a smile threatens his lips. "Cute offer, but I'm not going to do that, my little fayre" he whispers the last part of his sentence so I can't catch what he's said, but it makes me frown. He lets me go and I step back.

"Why not? If you hadn't started it I'm sure we would have gotten things accomplished" I say, examining his body. It doesn't look too bad, and his tattoo still remains untouched.

"We both know that you had no motive besides wanting me here to do this, so don't act as if you would have needed to enter this into a contest or something" he says as he calls me out, nonchalantly.

I blink my confusion and fake oblivion. How the hell did he know?

I don't bother to deny. He also has a motive as well.

"So why did you come?" I ask.

I straighten my back out to appear bigger as I slowly step closer to him. He looks impressed for a moment before turning away as his gray eyes begin to spiral. My breathing falters and I try to hide the fact but I'm sure he notices it, he notices everything.

"Maybe you came because you're lonely" I tease.

He stops, turning back to me with his eyebrows quirked up and obviously amused at my choice of words. "Lonely?" He asks me.

I shrug before bending to collect the pallet. "Yes" I say. I get the bright idea to dip my finger back into the paint and I quickly smear it over his face. Stepping back, I smile as I look at my masterpiece. "Amazing!" I yell my excitement.

The glare in his eyes as he strides over to me makes me shut down my excitement and revert back to fear as his hands are ready to grasp mine. Swiftly, he forces me around and presses a point at my hips that makes me moan in pain.

"Tell me something, Celeste" he demands, his voice right at my ear.

I gasp in pain as he presses harder. Tell him something? I don't know what he means. He presses again, making my knees buckle. Shit. What the hell is he doing to me? "What?" I moan in pain again.

He keeps his hand steady. "What do you think I want to hear?" he asks.

Fuck. My knees grow weaker as he keeps his hand pressed at that certain point. Where the hell did he learn how to do this? "I'm sorry!" I cry out, wishing that he'd let go.

"Uh-uh" he tutts, making me grow with anger. "I don't know what you're so sorry about, fayre" he says. I'm so focused on the pain that I don't have time to react to whatever he's just called me.

I sigh, moaning in pain again. "I'm sorry for making your face more beautiful with the paint" I tease, instantly regretting it as he presses harder.

He wraps his arm around my stomach as his other hand's thumb presses deep into my skin. It burns. "More beautiful?" He asks me.

I shake my head, sighing my exasperation. "I'm sorry for smearing paint over your face?" I

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