Chapter 12

Heather woke up in Jason's bed.

Her gaze fell on his sitting figure by the window. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his broad chest, as he worked intently at his easel.

She slipped out of bed, barefoot, and padded over to him. The painting had taken shape, revealing a clear outline.

In the soft silk sheets, she lay draped in a languid pose, her bare body gracefully illuminated in the artwork. Her expression was serene, not seductive, but almost pure, as if her form was something to be revered.

Heather wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. "So, this is how beautiful I am in your eyes, Jason? Is it because you've secretly been in love with me all along?"

Jason coldly swatted her hands away. "Touch me again, you can get lost."

He was in the zone, completely absorbed in his painting, unwilling to let her break his concentration. As if their fiery, passionate encounter mere moments ago had been nothing more than a creative spark for him—nothing but a tool to inspire hi