Jensen asks for the salt as soon as sides have been passed around. I hand it to him without saying a word, keeping my eyes averted. I don’t want to interact with him too much, not around my father.

“So, Bellamy tells us she’ll be traveling for work now,” Mom announces in such a way that I don’t think she’s pleased about it.

Bellamy lifts her water and takes a sip. “I’m getting a promotion.”

No one congratulates her. Those kinds of things aren’t celebrated in a home where women aren’t praised for having careers.

“I, too, will be doing a bit more traveling,” Dad interjects. “I’ll be on AUB business, meeting with various councilors and members of the ward.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time lately on priesthood business,” Summer muses.

“I’m righting the ship.” I feel my father’s gaze upon me, weighing me down with unspoken connotations. “A season of change is upon us. It’s time to forge strong ties with the brethren so we can continue building our kingdom. There are certain resources that come along with fostering good relations with our local wards and councils. It’s a give and take relationship, one built on trust and values, one that requires sacrifice.”

When he speaks that way, I know he’s been spending more time with Bruce Waterman and other council members. Heat and ice flood my veins, and my heart thuds with slow, heavy beats.

Kath listens intently as she cuts up the twins’ pot roast. She doesn’t question the cryptic-tone of his words. Neither does Summer.

“Care to elaborate?” Mom asks. It’s rare that one of the wives questions my father, but if anyone’s going to do it, it’s my mother.

“When the time is right, I’ll make my announcement.” He saws into his meat and forks a hunk into his mouth. If he’s trying to put the fear of God into me once again, it’s working.

We haven’t exchanged many words since our little altercation last week, but I’m bent on convincing him he was wrong about me. As much as I resent him right now, he’s still my ticket to college. I can’t get student loans to cover room and board without my parents filing a FAFSA, and he won’t do it if he doesn’t want me attending school.

“Sounds like a load of shit to me,” Jensen mutters under his breath, loud enough so only I can hear him.

I can’t eat. My appetite vanishes just like that. I force a few more bites down, just enough to ensure no one notices anything’s wrong, and then I excuse myself to begin kitchen clean up.

When my father retreats to his den after dinner and the kids scamper off to the family room, my mothers join me in the kitchen.

“You don’t think he’s talking about taking on a fourth wife, do you?” Kath asks Mom and Summer, keeping her voice low. “He wouldn’t do that without telling us, right?”

Summer grabs a dishrag. “Let’s put it this way: we didn’t know about you until the day before we met you, so…”

“Yeah, but that was a little different.” Kath blushes. I’ve always liked her, but I know she’s struggled with feeling accepted by Summer, who wasn’t too keen on being displaced out of the blue. She and Dad had been struggling to have a fourth child and nothing was working, and then Kath shows up, marries into the family, and pops out a set of twins her first try.

“Now, now, ladies.” Mom fills the sink with hot, soapy water, and I hand her a dirty casserole dish. “I’m sure Mark would consult with us this time, especially since there are logistical issues. The houses on either sides of us aren’t up for sale. Where would a fourth wife live? And can we afford a fourth wife?”

“Knowing Mark, he’s got everything figured out,” Kath says. “He’s a planner, our dear husband.”

They continue gabbing, speculating about the odds of Dad adding another wife, when all I really want to do is tell them they’re wasting their time. He was talking about me, his cryptic words all code for planning to marry me off.

I can’t stand another minute, and I need to get out of the hen house before I go insane. “I’ve got some homework to finish. Mind if I head up to my room for the night?”

“Go right on ahead,” Mom says. “We’re about done here.”

I check the calendar on my way out of the kitchen, the one that tells us where Dad is sleeping that night. Tonight is circled in green, which means he’ll be at Summer’s. Which is a relief, because I could use a talk with Jensen tonight.

I bide my time in my room until well past nine, when I know Mom and Bellamy have retired to their rooms for the night, then I slip into Jensen’s room. I don’t even knock. I figure if we’ve had sex, we’re past the courtesy of knocking.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says, glancing up from his sketchpad. He’s seated with his back against his headboard.

I close the door behind me.

“Before you go feeling all special, I was awake and bored,” I lie. “What are you drawing?”

He flips his sketchpad around to show me a drawing of his feet.

“You’re drawing your feet?” I choke on my laughter. “I was expecting a beautiful landscape, or like a motorcycle, or something. Not feet.”

“I like drawing the human body.” He flips it toward him, shading the white with his pencil. “Sometimes you have to be your own live model.”

I climb onto the foot of his bed, sitting cross-legged and pulling up at the threads of his quilt.

“You should let me draw you,” he says, setting his paper aside. There’s a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. “Like… all of you.”

I sprawl across his bed, resting my hands on my bent elbow. “Like this?”

“No. All of you.”

“Nude?”

“Yes, Waverly. Nude. Your body’s perfect. I should know. I had the pleasure of fucking it the other night.”

My cheeks flush. It’s easy to remember how good he made me feel that night, but I seem to forget my body returned the favor.

“I don’t know. It’s going to feel weird with you just staring at me, staring at my naked body. Being all exposed like that.”

Jensen pops up and shuts off his bedroom light, returning to click on the small lamp on his bedside table. The room has just enough light for him to draw.

“And if it makes you feel better,” he says, handing me a throw blanket, “you can strategically drape this anywhere you want. I’m not drawing porn.”

I flash a half-grin, marveling at the way he knows exactly how to put me at ease.

“No one will ever see it,” he promises. “My eyes only.”

I fall back on the bed and cover my eyes with my forearm. “Ugh. I don’t know.”

The bed creaks and shifts, like he’s coming closer to me. His deliciously masculine scent fills my lungs and the space around me is warmer. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. But either way, I want to draw your beautiful, naked body, and you’re going to let me.”

I pull my arm from my face. “You’re so sure of yourself all the time. Doesn’t it get exhausting being so cocky?”

“I know what I am. I own it. And people respect me for it.” He climbs off the bed. “Now, take off your fucking clothes before I rip them off you.”

My body tingles the way it does just before I know I’m about to do something delightfully sinful.

Some might argue that submission is in my DNA. I’d say it’s not submitting when you want it just as bad.

I peel my clothes off article by article, teasing him, and he watches, feasting on me with his dark eyes. I glide naked across his bed, every soft fiber of the quilt brushing my sensitive skin and setting my nerves on high alert. There’s a warmth between my thighs, an arousal brewing.

Jensen worships me with his generous gaze, the rest of his face obstructed by his sketchpad. He gets to work immediately, starting with broad strokes and then filling them in as he goes along.

He pauses, sticking his pencil between his teeth and biting down before getting back to work. “Goddamn, Waverly, you’re sexy as fuck.”