Page 39 of Real Fake Husband

When I get back to the door, he hasn’t moved.

Perfect.

He looks great exactly how he is. I push the door open a little more, pausing when it lets out a quiet squeak. I freeze, and Cal shifts a little before settling back down, still asleep. I don’t trust myself to breathe a sigh of relief.

I slip into the room all the way and begin to sketch him. My hand moves across the page on its own, starting with the basic outline of his sleeping form and then getting more specific. He’s gorgeous.

I’ve studied the human body, and I’ve never seen one as perfect as his.

Hell, this isn’t even the artist talking. This is Josephine talking. In this low light, he’s the most stunning vision of masculinity I’ve ever seen in my entire life. One word: chiseled. All I can hope is that my drawing can do it justice. Creativity takes the wheel, my hand moving quickly across the page almost on its own.

I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this struck by inspiration. It’s been a while, for sure. It’s like my hand has a mind of its own.

I’m putting the finishing touches on the shadows around his body when he shifts again. I don’t stop drawing, too far along not to finish what I’m doing. However, when I glance up from the page, the new visual is enough for me to come crashing back to reality.

Instantly, I freeze, my hand gripping the book tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

The bed cover has slid down a teensy bit further, now revealing his “V.” Sweet Jesus. There’s a vein trailing down right at the edge.

I’ll be mortified if he wakes up and catches me drawing him.

His face turns my way, and I let out a sigh of relief to see he’s still sleeping.

Thank you, Universe.

I amentirelyunprepared for him to roll onto his side, letting the comforter slide all the way down. Because that’sexactlywhat he does andexactlywhat happens.

My pencil snaps, my grip even tighter than it was a second ago.

Oh. My. God.

He’s not partially naked. He’s fully naked.

My brain short-circuits and all thoughts fly out of my mind.

That’s…yup, that’s his dick. I’m staring directly at his dick.

I should look away.

Seriously, Josie, look away.

Do not be nosy!

I turn my back on him, clutching my red sketchbook to my chest. The drawing isn’t done yet. I can’t leave it unfinished, but I also can’t just stay here staring at him naked.

No.

I can’t do something crazy, like finish the drawing.

Right?

Thankfully, I’m able to make it back to the living room without Cal waking up. That would’ve been one for the books. Shoving all my art supplies back into the bag,silently, I shut off the light and bundle myself up in my pile of blankets.

“It’s fine. It’s just a naked man. You’ve seen a naked man before. And a dick. Stop acting like it’s a big deal.”

Big.

Oh, God, I’m so screwed.