AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Raw, huh?” It’s her throaty laughter that has me finally turning to her, and I wish I hadn’t.
The sight of this girl is a sledgehammer to the gut. I’m left unable to breathe or think. All I can do is take her in. The fiery long waves that frame her perfect face and accentuate large brilliant-blue eyes and pouty pink lips.
In the span of a few seconds, a hundred images and thoughts whirl through my brain. What would those pink lips taste like? What would they feel like pressed against my own or wrapped around my dick as she peers up at me with those insanely blue eyes.
Is her hair as soft as it looks? I could dig my fingers into those curls, fist them in my hands as I do things to her that would leave us both sweaty and breathless.
Would she let me?
She’s not dressed to blend like everyone else. Instead of the black or white that seems to be the color of choice at a thing like this, she’s wearing a bright-yellow dress. The kind that might be more appropriate for a park on a sunny day, but on her, it’s utter perfection.
This girl stands out like firelight in the dark. Mesmerizing warmth in the night.
She gives me a million-watt smile with those pouty lips that slices through me, leaving me momentarily speechless. Not to mention hot as fuck.
I swallow through my suddenly dry mouth and fist my hands to keep myself from touching her ivory skin to see if it’s as smooth as it appears.
Sex and business aren’t something I like to mix. Gets too fucking messy. So first, I’ll finish what I came to do. Gather more information on Shaw and his gallery. Figure out if the murder could have taken place here, and if it did, where I can hit him that will hurt the most.
Later, though, she’s mine.
Fuck yes, I want to play with her all night. And if I’m reading her right, the way she’s angled herself toward me, she’s interested in the same thing.
“What doyousee?” I ask, my tone controlled and level even though every inch of my body is tensed the way it gets before a fight. Or a fuck.
It’s the way I work. The way I was taught. When the pressure goes up, heart pounding in your ears, adrenaline pumping through your veins, use that energy to still your movements. Control them, give them power with the very thing that threatens to freeze them.
The woman glances at the painting and imitates my posture, heat tilted, arms crossed. “I see paint splattered on a canvas.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be the artist, would you?”
She laughs again and the pit of my stomach tightens. “No. I work here.”
I raise my brows. “You work for Shaw?”
Once again, I allow my gaze to rake over her, admiring her attributes while at the same time trying to correlate what I’d assumed someone associated with a place like this would look like. Stuffy. Uptight. Boring.
She’s none of those things.
A blush creeps into the skin of her pale cheeks, and she shyly brushes away a curl that’s fallen over her eye. “Um, I suppose work isn’t exactly the best description. I assist when I can. Mostly, I curate the art that we display. Bring in new talent.”
“Please tell me you didn’t bring in this guy.” I point at the wall.
Giggling, she nods. “Guilty as charged. But I promise I have good taste.” She places a palm over her chest and raises her other hand. Then, abruptly and before I can react, she grasps my wrist. “I want to show you something.”
Because I’m too stunned to stop her, I allow myself to be dragged through the throng of fine people to the far-left wall.
Here, there are ten small canvases, all with the same signature as the rest of the exhibition, but the art itself is completely different.
Instead of smatterings of paint, there are actual scenes. Faintly blurred, as if being seen from a distance, but there nonetheless.
In one, there’s a large gray tree in the center of a pond, with branches that hang over lily pads and the reflection of clouds.
Another one has the same tree, but this time, it’s lost its leaves and they lie scattered over the water.
“I see a rainstorm in the city,” she says as she stares at the tree wistfully. “Puddles on the street, lights reflecting off the water.”
“It’s a tree,” I say.
