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“I have this old baseball shirt or this one.” He held up a faded One Direction shirt with a smirk.
“As much as I appreciate Harry Styles with long hair, I’ll go with the longer sleeves.”
“Don’t know Ian, but you know Harry Styles? He’ll be crushed.”
“Guess I’ll have to check him out on my Spotify.”
Beckett shook his head. “Today is getting stranger and stranger.”
“You’re telling me.” I glanced over my shoulder at the mural one more time, astounded that a famous artist just doodled on the walls of this room.
The octopus tentacle was so familiar to me since it matched the painting I had. My mother hated it, but she loved that it was worth a cool three million when I’d gotten it appraised. Zoe’s work was gaining value every year. I’d have to have to get it re-appraised in a few years for insurance.
When I’d seen it in the gallery, it had grabbed me by the neck, much like the octopus had done with the woman in the painting. It was wrapped around a female form, dragging her to the bottom of the ocean. It was a massive piece, as most of Zoe’s pieces were, and full of so many different levels of darkness. A single shaft of light from the surface highlighted the struggle between woman and beast.
It had elicited a visceral response in me. Enough that I’d redone my sitting room to match it.
“Helena?”
“Coming.” I slipped out the door and quickly down the hall to where Beckett stood.
He was holding a towel and washcloth. “Not exactly The Lodge or hotel grade but should do the job.”
“Thanks.”
“You can use whatever you find in the shower. My mother has quite the selection in there.”
“I’ll just be glad to get the dirt off. And this dress.”
His blue eyes dipped to where I was holding the dress closed at my hip before tripping back up to meet my gaze. The coolness from a few minutes ago was gone again, leaving a raw awareness between us. “I’ll just go try and find you some shoes.” He pressed his lips together as if holding himself back from saying something.
“What?”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more. I really can bring you back to The Lodge.”
I placed my hand over his on the towels. “If you’re still okay with me spending the rest of the day with you, I’d like that.” And maybe more. The way he looked at me made my blood thicken in a way it never had with any other man.
Would it hurt to do something rash for once in my life?
Even if it didn’t end up being anything more than another ride on Storm, I wanted to do something crazy and out of my comfort zone.
I went up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a nice man, Beckett.”
His hand slid along my hip to where my dress gaped open. His thumb swiped over my skin as he crowded me into the doorjamb, the stack of towels the only buffer between our bodies. “I’m really not.”
My breath stalled in my chest as my nipples instantly hardened.
His thumb slipped a little farther into the rip of my dress to where my hip dipped toward my inner thigh. Everything inside of me clenched tight in the most deliciously foreign way. I stared at his mouth and licked my lips.
“I can be a nice man if that’s what you want. If that’s what you need today.”
I shook my head. “I’m really tired of men treating me—”
“Oh, I’ll treat you right, but it won’t be with soft hands, Helena.”
My eyes shot to his. “I was going to say treating me like glass. Like a pretty thing for a shelf, not to be touched.”
His jaw tightened and a muscle jumped along his temple. He drew his thumb out of the rip in my dress and my heart sank. He probably didn’t want to be bothered by a pent-up penthouse princess. Instead, he dragged the back of his knuckles up along my side to the curve of my breast, then coasted up to my neck and finally cupped my face.
