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She drew her hands down from his hair to his stubbled cheeks and sighed. It was really unfair for him to be so damn delicious. He made it next to impossible to hold on to her resolve. “All right, call the Grand Poo-bah so I can get permission to leave with you, kind sir.”
* * *
She and Andre didn’t have to search too hard for Jace. His little sports car was parked on the side of the building that housed both Wicked and the guys’ third-floor loft. Andre entered the code to open the gate for the private parking area and pulled into the spot next to Jace’s. “Let’s go see what the damage is. My guess is he’ll either be a total brooding pain in the ass or—”
“Act like absolutely nothing is wrong.”
He cut the ignition and smirked at her. “Hasn’t changed much since his teenage years, huh?”
She shrugged. “It always seemed like the harder his dad came down on him, the more devil-may-care he became. Like he was determined to show his father his opinion didn’t even make a blip on his radar.”
Andre’s brown eyes reflected the same sadness she felt for Jace. “Guess we’ll just have to go remind him that not everyone thinks he’s a jackass.” He pushed open his door. “Well, unless he is acting like a jackass, then all bets are off.”
She laughed. “Right.”
Andre led her to the front door of the store. “Let’s check his office first. He’s been spending a lot of time in there lately.”
The bottom floor of Wicked was more a lobby and didn’t have any products displayed. Instead, the most gorgeous black-and-white erotic photography Evan had ever seen adorned the dark maroon walls. Soft classical music filled her ears as well, but she had trouble dragging her focus away from the artwork. She touched the corner of one large piece—a collared woman was in the process of disrobing and in the background, two men sat in the darkened corner of the bedroom, leaning back in their chairs, their attention held captive by the display.
The photographer had captured the light so perfectly. The soft curves of the woman’s body gleamed, and the dark angles playing over the faces of the men she was undressing for promised wickedness to come. Something that could’ve looked pornographic under an amateur’s camera had been morphed into something stunning and pure. “God, I wish I was this good.”
Andre slid a hand onto her lower back. “I have no doubt you are. I can’t wait to see your photography.”
“I don’t do this type of work,” she said, looking at the price on the picture and trying to keep a straight face at the astronomical amount.
Evan let Andre lead her up the stairs to the main store. She paused at the glass door leading into the shop, which had poetry scrawled across it in calligraphy. She read it aloud, running her fingers over the lettering:
Where true Love burns Desire is Love’s pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.
SAMUEL COLERIDGE
Andre smiled. “That was Jace’s mission statement when he started Wicked. He wanted a place lovers could come to without shame. A place where desire and sex were simply seen as natural extensions of people’s love for one another.”
She reread the poem, absorbing the words. “I had no idea he was that much of a hopeless romantic.”
Andre pushed open the door. “He used to be, bella. Life can tear that out of you sometimes.”
Jace turned out not to be in his office so Andre led her to an unmarked door at the back of the building and typed in a code on a keypad to unlock it. “We have to trek up another flight of stairs, but the view’s nice.”
“No problem,” she said as she followed him up, though she wondered why someone who came from gaudy money like Jace chose to live in a walk-up above his business.
Andre peeked back at her and sniffed when he saw her expression. “Don’t ever play poker, Evan. You’ll get taken for everything you’ve got.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You wear your every thought on your face.” He started climbing the stairs again. “Jace lives here because he turned away his family’s money. They won’t give him access to his trust fund unless he returns to the family business.”
“Oh.”
“It’s also why we’re roommates. Helps both of us to split the expenses.”
She sniffed. “That’s not the only reason you live with him.”
