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“Why are your hands shaking, Mellie?” he asked with a taunting grin as he grasped the figurine from my hands.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’ve got my blood thundering in my ears and my knees so weak, it’s a good thing my feet aren’t touching the ground or I’d fall off these damn stilettos,” I laughed.
“Are you wet and throbbing for me?” The gruff, hungry tone in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Do you really need to ask?” I challenged.
Stopping abruptly, he narrowed his eyes and silently studied me for several long seconds. I’d suspected he was a Dominant, but his stern, disapproving expression thoroughly confirmed it. Every fiber in my being implored me to remain strong, but I wilted under his compelling gaze and cast my eyes toward the ground.
“I asked because I wanted to hear it from your own lips, little one.”
Little one. If there’d been a shred of doubt still rolling around in my head, his term of endearment annihilated it on the spot.
Joshua Lars. Accomplished artist. Sizzling hottie. Fucking Dominant. You’re toast, woman.
“When I ask you a question, I expect an honest answer, not a flippant response. Don’t get me wrong, Mellie. Your spirit is enchanting, but now isn’t the time or place for it. Do you understand?”
He chastises like a damn Dominant, too. You need to fake a headache and get your ass back to Savannah’s. Call it self-preservation, survival, or downright fear, but you’re not ready for the games he wants to play with you.
Before I could answer, he kissed me with a blood-pumping, panty-melting fury so strong it obliterated the voice in my head. Drowning beneath the warm, soft texture of his lips and the heated breath between us, I brazenly reached up and smoothed my palm over his cheek.
Hesitantly, Joshua pulled away. His nostrils flared, and an impatient groan rolled off his tongue before he raced us toward a plain, three-story warehouse.
“It’s not much on the outside, but inside isn’t too bad,” he explained as he tugged a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a sturdy metal door.
Stepping through the portal, I scoffed inwardly at his remark. Designed in a bold Avant Garde style, the spacious open floor plan with its partially rounded walls and sharp geometric accents blended in appealing contrast. His décor looked nothing like I’d imagined it might be. He’d merged several of his own works with glass and metal creations. From a design perspective, it shouldn’t have worked, but it did, beautifully. Brightly colored furnishings and decorative vases in red and burgundy hues generated a soothing atmosphere. Joshua Lars was a high caliber artist through and through.
“This is incredible,” I whispered, trying to absorb the details of his lavish surroundings.
“I’ll take you on the grand tour later. Right now there’s only one room I want to see you in…my bedroom.”
With an invitation so honest and seductive, how could I refuse? With a provocative smile, I nodded. “Lead the way.”
“Oh, I fully intend to,” he chuckled.
His double entendre was clear. Setting the sculpture on a table, Joshua took my hand and led me up a wide staircase. Once we reached the landing, he pulled me against his chest and pressed me against a door before dissolving me beneath soft, seductive kisses. Blazing with impatience, I yearned for more…much, much more. The slow, methodical tempo of his masterful mouth confined me to the fringes of madness. Joshua seemed in no hurry to seize the bubbling lust within me.
When he sunk his teeth into my bottom lip and tugged, I couldn’t keep my frustration in check a second longer. I cried out in a suffering wail, impatiently palming the doorknob next to my hip. Twisting the cool metal, I discovered it was locked.
“That leads to my studio.” He smirked, reveling in my eagerness. “We’re definitely not playing in there, little one.”
“Stop stalling, Joshua. Take me to your bed. I’m dying,” I begged.
“Surely, you don’t think I’m finished warming you up yet? Do you?”
“Warmed up?” I scoffed. “I’m ready to go up in flames here.”
“Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one,” he murmured with a grin so lethal my knees wobbled.
Scooping me off my feet, Joshua carried me down the hall. As we breached an open doorway, he flipped on the lights. Sweeping a gaze over the wide-open loft, I locked my sight on a massive four-poster bed poised atop a red and gold Persian rug in the center of the room. Tall windows covered in ecru gauze lined the perimeter of the room, and a set of open double doors led to a spacious cream and gold tiled bathroom.
Dark cherry furnishings combined with the chocolate and burgundy comforter, and matching accent pillows, lent a bold, masculine impression. The room screamed of power, command, and Dominance.
Darting a glance toward the gleaming armoire, I caught myself wondering if a plethora of BDSM toys were hidden behind the ornately carved doors.
Stop it! You’re here for good old-fashioned vanilla sex. That’s it!
Joshua laid me down on the bed with a wolfish grin, then stood. “Now where were we?”
