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Anything so I wouldn’t look at him.
Why was he here?
How had he found me?
Why had he found me?
“Ms. Copeland.”
I ignored him and checked off the dozen pieces and walked into the next room. It was a smaller room overlooking the cove. This was the room that housed the best of our offerings at the galleries. I frowned at the empty pedestal, and made a note.
“Dammit, Grace.”
I finally looked up at him. Just a few days had made a huge difference. I hadn’t really been able to look at him when he’d surprised me at the house yesterday. But now…his perpetual stubble had grown into the start of a beard.
The dark hair didn’t soften his chiseled face. In fact, it actually made his jaw seem even more angular. I frowned when I finally noticed the white bag dangling from his fingers. My gaze bounced from it back to his face.
“Why are you here?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped and his eyes hardened. “I thought this was where you resided.”
My stomach dropped. Oh, God. I’d forgotten I’d used the gallery’s address on my application. What exactly could I say? There was only one way to play this.
Ignore him.
I moved around him and he grabbed my arm and dragged me in close. His voice was low in my ear. “More lies?”
Nothing about Blake allowed me to forget, or to ignore. Not when I was in his airspace. God, would it always be like this?
No.
No, actually it wouldn’t. I met his dark stare. “I’m full of them, remember?”
Instead of recoiling, he dragged me closer until I was on my toes, my chest crashing into his arm. We were alone here. The gallery itself was bustling with people, but this room was empty. All but done save for one piece.
“Why?” He asked. His eyes glittered with anger and something else I couldn’t name. Something I was too afraid to name.
“Why does it matter? You fired me. We’re done, remember?”
“It matters, dammit.”
“Why?”
His jaw was clenched so hard, I was getting a sympathy headache from it. His hold on me was equally intense. Not enough to bruise, but it would take a good, hard shove to get him to let go.
Why wasn’t I pushing him away?
My nipples tightened under my dress. He couldn’t know, but it was bad enough I did. Shame and heartache climbed up my throat. I hated it—hated him—for how much I wanted him.
We were nothing but smoke trapped under glass. We suffocated each other, wrapped around each other, and then dissipated the moment we were set free. Not even an ember left when we were done with each other.
He dropped the bag he was carrying, and his fingers tunneled through my hair. The iPad clattered onto the empty pedestal. He lowered and I went on my toes until our mouths collided.
Bright white heat flashed behind my eyes as he devoured me. Teeth, tongues, and lips—we were wild for each other. He lifted me off my feet and carried me until I hit the window. His hand pressed to the glass above my head as he loomed over me.
He didn’t hesitate. There was no question, no room for doubt. He dragged my dress up, his short nails scoring my outer thigh until his knee bumped my inner thigh.
I rode the lightning we created together until voices dented my consciousness. Too close. Too much.
