it."
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He turned without another word, and Skye took in
the brilliant colors, the flawless detail of a classic, Asian-style phoenix that covered his entire back. The feathered wings flowed over the muscular ripple of his shoulders; the body and the sweeping tail curved sinuously down
his back to his waist. It was beautiful, the detail exquisite.
The eyes of the mythical bird glowed like a pair of
emeralds within the fire of the red, gold and orange
plumage. She reached out to touch it, felt him shiver
beneath her fingertips.
"It's magnificent. Rising out of the ashes…" She traced her finger lower, over the scar across his ribs she'd discovered earlier.
He yanked away. "Don't, Skye." His voice held a dark edge she'd never heard from him before.
"Why not? It's a part of you."
He turned back to her, his eyes blazing. "You don't get it, do you? This is a part of me I never wanted to
expose to anyone. And you ripped it out of me."
"No, don't try to blame me, Adam. Some part of you wanted to tell me, had a need to, I think." Her heart was hammering in her chest. She had the sense something
important was happening here, and the idea that she
could lose him now scared her half to death. But she was angry, too. "I'm going home now."
He stood up, in all his naked, masculine glory. She
had to look away. He was too beautiful, and it stung.
"That's probably a good idea. Before we really hurt each other. I'll take you as soon as I'm dressed."
"I can call a cab."
"I said I'll take you."
Fire in his blue eyes. He was angry. But it was also
about the power in him, the pure energy of who he was.
She felt as though her heart was breaking. How was that possible? She'd known him less than two weeks.
She nodded, retrieved her clothes, and quietly put
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TALES OF EROTIC SUBMISSION
them on, holding back the tears that burned at her eyes, tightened her throat. Even dressed, she was shivering.
With a kind of shock. With a deep dread that she may
never see him again. That she shouldn't see him again.
He was dressed now, too, making him seem even
more remote. "You're cold. I'll get one of my coats for you."
When he went down the hall to his bedroom, she
unlocked the front door and fled into the night.
* * * *
More than a week had gone by, and Skye hadn't
heard from him. Of course, he had every right to be
angry with her after she'd run out on him like that.
Terrible of her, she knew, but she'd had to get out of
there. Curled up on her old, overstuffed velvet sofa, as she was now, she'd spent the entire week going over
their conversation, dissecting it from every angle. But she always came to the same conclusion: Adam was
incapable of real intimacy. He'd pretty much told her so himself, had even told her why. And he resented that
she'd made him do it.
What sort of transformation would he have to go
through before he could break through those old walls? If he was even willing to try.
No, he would have dumped her sooner or later, and
the longer it took, the more attached she would have
become, until his rejection would have been unbearable.
It was nearly unbearable now.
She turned to look out the living room window at
the cityscape she had always loved. But it looked bleak and lonely to her now. As empty as she felt on the inside.
She'd been drawing him all week. The table in her
tiny kitchen was littered with sketches in charcoal and pencil. She'd tried to capture the musculature of his big body, the details of his strong hands, his tattoo. Mostly she'd tried to draw his face. But she couldn't seem to get 47
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the eyes right.
Finally, she'd set up her easel in the living room,
close to the bay window, and painted, just a series of
strokes in burnt umber and highlighted with white. The
result wasn't very good. But it captured him a little better than the flatter sketches did. Still, his eyes refused to come alive for her.
She still had paint under her fingernails. She