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“I’d like to kiss you.”
At the suggestion, Emma’s eyes widened and those soft pink lips parted.
“That could be arranged.” She sounded slightly breathless.
Finally, finally, Patrick leaned toward her. He slid one hand around Emma’s waist and brought the other hand to the side of her cheek. Then he bent his lips towards hers, as slowly as he could bear, as he drew out the moment. The tension between them skyrocketed as their lips grew nearer and nearer.
Then their lips touched. Warmth flooded Patrick, spreading from each point of contact with Emma. Kissing her felt more important than anything else, even breathing. He just wanted to be near her. It felt like the whole world slowed as they kissed, softly and tenderly.
Patrick kept the first kiss short and light before he pulled back and met Emma’s eyes. He wanted to be sure she was okay with everything that was happening. Emma’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled.
“That was…” she trailed off, apparently unable to formulate a sentence.
“It was,” Patrick agreed. Then Emma leaned into him and kissed him again. Desire coursed through him, both at the heat of the kiss and at the fact that Emma had been the one to initiate it. He slid a hand around her lower back and pulled her closer. Emma came willingly. As Patrick deepened the kiss, she parted her lips slightly and let out a soft sound, almost a sigh.
It was the most compelling sound he had ever heard.
They kissed for what could have been hours or mere minutes. Each time Patrick considered putting a little space between them, he felt himself recoil at the very thought. At first, the kissing seemed to be more than enough for both of them, but after a while, Patrick felt a need grow inside him. He wanted, no, needed, Emma in his bed. Now. If that was what she wanted.
“Emma,” he breathed against her lips. “Should we go inside?”
Emma nodded. “Maybe we could go someplace a little more… comfortable?”
Patrick felt a wave of desire, of urgency. “I could bring you to my bed.”
“Yes.” Emma’s answer was soft and breathless but so sincere that Patrick could have lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. And, in fact, why shouldn’t he? They both wanted this.
Patrick stood, pulled Emma to her feet, then lifted her into his arms. She gave a surprised laugh, but then she wrapped her legs around him and they were kissing again.
The journey to Patrick’s bedroom was slow and meandering, as they kept stopping to kiss in different parts of the house. When they finally reached the bedroom, he laid her gently back on the soft sheets. Her dark curls splayed around her head in a halo as she looked up at him, those big brown eyes wide.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked. “Is this what you want?”
“This is all I want.” Emma still sounded a little breathless and her cheeks were still flushed. Patrick wasn’t about to deny her all she wanted, not when it was exactly what he needed himself.
They fell into each other. For a long time, there was nothing but heat and tenderness and an intense connection that somehow felt brand new.
CHAPTER 13
EMMA
Emma’s first thought on waking up was one of warmth and safety. She’d never felt quite like this before. She snuggled deeper into the strong arms that were holding her and pressed her cheek into the broad shoulder that served as her pillow.
Then a hint of confusion broke through the warmth. Where was she?
At that thought, everything came flooding back. Her magical evening with Patrick as they’d eaten pizza and talked by the fire and kissed and… oh. The night had been even more magical than the evening. Half-remembered images of Patrick holding her in his arms and looking at her with so much affection floated through her mind, and her heart swelled with warmth.
Until guilt and worry rushed in to replace the good memories. Emma hadn’t done what she had come here to do. Instead, she’d slept with Patrick.
Emma wanted to disappear under the covers. She wanted to wake Patrick and confess everything. At the very least, she wanted to slip out of his apartment silently and never let him know what she had come to do.
None of those options were going to work.
She disentangled herself from Patrick’s arms and slipped out of bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, and she quickly gathered her clothes from the floor and went into the bathroom outside the bedroom. There, she splashed water on her face and got dressed. Then she sat on the side of the bathtub and tried to figure out what to do.
There were no good options. If she confessed everything to Patrick, he might well report her to the police — if Aleksander didn’t do it first. And even if he were willing to turn a blind eye, he would never want to be with a woman who had lied to him and worked with his rival to try and steal his most prized painting.
If she left town, Aleksander would surely call the police. Emma knew she couldn’t go to jail.
