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I turn to Damien when he becomes quiet. I wait for him to continue, but it seems he’s lost in the way the painting of the flowers stares back at him.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
He turns to face me. His hands leave his sides to reach up and cup my face. His head dips, and his lips perfectly press against mine. I don’t expect this side of him. I wonder for a quick moment if this is all a dream. With the tantalizing scent of him surrounding me, the warmth of his mouth on mine, I know this is real. Too soon, he pulls away, his eyes glowing with what I’ve learned to be passion.
“Let’s walk.”
I don’t hide the grunted noise of frustration as he steps away from me again and proceeds to walk away.
“Damien. Stop.” He doesn’t, and I’m forced to pick up my step, almost running to catch up with him. When I reach him, I grab for his shoulder and tug for him to halt. He gives in with no fight and turns to me.
“Why do you let those shits speak to you like that?”
“What? Sylvia? This is about me—”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know. It’s just easier to ignore than engage. I won’t play their games.”
“But aren’t you? You’ve found yourself in bed with a man who’s no good for you because you engaged.”
This sudden change is confusing me. The naive part of me feels like he wants to tell me something very personal. Open up to me. But the logical part warns me to keep my guard up. A man like Damien softens for no one, and his mind games might be worse than anything Sylvia can throw at me.
“Okay, fine. You’re right. I let my guard down and they won. But I’m done playing her games. Being afraid of her threats. If she wants to ruin my friendship, she can have at it. I’m not sure the real friendship was there in the first place.”
He steps closer to me. “And our contract? Do you not feel abided to adhere to it then?”
My skin shivers at the way he’s looking at me. His eyes are intense. He’s not just patiently waiting for me to reply, he’s mentally eating me alive. He licks his lips, and my belly tightens. If he even attempted to touch me right now, I would combust. I’m not sure what sort of game he’s trying to play with me, but there’s a strong feeling I’m going to lose it.
“You don’t own me. No one does. I’m here because I choose to be. Not because you have any control over me.”
His arm is up, and his hand clasps quickly and tightly around my neck. With all his strength, he pulls me to him, and his mouth lands roughly against mine. He fuses his lips to mine and kisses me hard, showing no sign of releasing me until he’s taken what he wants. But I’m okay with that. I kiss him back with the same fervor. In no time, his free hand wraps around my butt cheek and he’s lifting me with one arm up, my legs wrapping around him.
“I find your boldness sexy as fuck, Ms. Stone,” he hums into my mouth as he backs us up against the wall. I worry about knocking into a painting. I rip my mouth away to twist my head in fear. “Oh my God, is that a Cézanne?” I panic, staring at the famous piece hanging next to me.
“Ah, yes, the Table, Napkin, and Fruit. One of his most famous works.” He drops his lips to my neck and sucks on my skin.
“Damien, if we knock it over…”
He pulls us off the wall, and I feel instant relief knowing I won’t have to live out the remainder of my life in guilt over ruining a hundred-year-old masterpiece. He carries us down an unfamiliar gallery hallway as I sneak peeks at the famous paintings. Never in my life would I have pictured myself in such a famous museum, late at night, about to do extremely inappropriate things.
I wait for us to pop out in the cafeteria or somewhere more appropriate, but when he enters a new room, my breath catches as I take in my surroundings. “Damien, are we in the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit?” Holy shit, we are. As much as I’m loving how turned on and sexy Damien is right now, my urge to threaten him to put me down so I can appreciate the paintings may be taking over.
“See something you like?” Damien chuckles and with two short steps, he has my back implanted against the wall. His lips are warm and smooth on my skin. He runs his mouth across my shoulder blade, stopping at my collarbone. Heat builds between my legs as his tongue glides down the center of my chest until he latches on to my hard nipple through my thin shirt. I planned on answering him that set of portraits of Isabella d`Este are fantastic, but my words are lodged in my throat. His teeth bite down, and the sensation of pure pleasure stifle a soft moan from my lips.
