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He slowly blinks himself out of the kiss, eyes dark and feral with lust.
“Right.” He steals one more kiss, nipping at my lip. Then he’s taking my hand, and leading me quickly through the gallery, out into a hallway, then a discrete spiral staircase.
He leads me up the stairs, without ever letting go of my hand. With layers of tulle skirts floating and swirling around me, I feel like a princess following her knight up to the top of the tower.
We go up to the third floor, where Cole opens a door that says “Private: Members Lounge.” Inside, the room is a cozy arrangement of velvet couches, sleek side tables, gilded wall sconces, and plush Turkish rugs.
Naturally, the art on the wall is impeccable.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“They hold private events up here for the museum’s most dedicated sponsors,” Cole says. He leans over and locks the door meaningfully. “No one will bother us up here.”
A delicious fluttering feeling fills my stomachs. “Why Mr. Ashford,” I tease. “What on earth can you have planned?”
He stalks toward me, eyes dark with purpose, and I back away, just to see the way his smile goes crooked when I tease him.
The back of my knees hit the couch, and I stumble, before sitting down in a floof of fabrics that’s almost graceful.
I pat the seat on the couch next to me.
Cole ignores my invitation. Instead, he kneels at my feet. His big hands spread my legs as I lean in to kiss him. I remove his tie. Start to unbutton his shirt. His own hands find the zipper at the back of my dress. He eases the zipper partway down my back, just enough to pull down the bodice of my dress and expose my breasts.
My breath catches at the suddenly cool air. One of his hands strokes and feathers my breast, while the other eases up my skirts to reveal my thighs.
“Cole are you sure we should...This can’t be ok. If someone finds us...”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s ok. I need you, Amelia.”
He says it like that’s the end of the discussion. And maybe for Cole, it is. He needs me, so he’ll have me, society be damned.
Fuck, why is that so hot?
Cole kisses his way down my neck, lingering in a spot that has me squirming and panting. Then his mouth is moving again, feathering over my collar bone, the curve of my breast, then my nipple. He sucks and nibbles, until my hands are buried in his hair, urging him on.
“Fuck, Cole, that’s...” I moan.
I notice one of his hands fisted in my skirts. I tighten my hand in his hair, and he groans in pleasure. There’s something about knowing how much he loves this part that turns me wet and needy.
I remember what he said the first time we had sex.Touching you like this, making you come? That’s not for you. That’s for me.
As hot as it still is to think of those words, I don’t think they’re true anymore. What he’s doing is for him—but it’s also for me. It turns him on to take care of me. And I know Cole too well now to let him get away with convincing me he’s selfish.
He pulls back, and I’m about to protest, until I realize he’s kissing his way down my body. Sucking the parts of my bodice that leave only one sheer, barely-there swath of fabric between the curve of my waist and my skin. He tries to move my skirts higher, but they slide back into place when he releases them.
He tries again.
The fluffy skirts ease back over my panties.
“Damnit,” he growls, and I laugh, breathless. He looks as grumpy as that first day, when I stole his coffee and his cab.
“Here,” I say. “Let me help.”
I gather all the feather light layers of fabric and hold them back.
“Good girl.” He eases my panties down my legs. Then he kisses his way up my leg, first my ankle, then the side of my knee, then my inner thigh. His hands follow his lips, massaging mymuscles, spreading me more for him. Until finally, he’s cradling my ass, and looking at my pussy like it’s a feast.
“Cole,” I breath, rolling my hips. “Please, just...”
