Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Richard and I had a little chat about Winters as well. He thinks he is the lowest of lows. His reputation in the art world is even worse than I thought. He started out well enough, then veered down a road he should never have been on.”
“But you said he had a collection himself.”
“He does. And there are some nice pieces in it. But he is unscrupulous in his dealings. How he acquires them. And he wants them for the wrong reasons. For greed. Bragging rights.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
I brushed my hand down her cheek. “Are you up for some sight-seeing today, or do I need to take you back to bed?” I grinned. “You want me to ravish you with my rocking Richard?”
“Oh God, I am never drinking again.”
On that, we could agree.
We spent the next two days acting like tourists. I took her to all the places she wanted to see and others she’d never heard of. Hours passed like minutes, every moment with her a revelation of more Brianna. I couldn’t get enough. I wasn’t sure I ever would. I loved watching her discover things. The cute V between her brows as she studied a painting or some other piece of art and then the smile as she found the beauty. She became animated, wanting to share what she saw. Her hands moved, she talked fast, and her joy was limitless. There was little we disagreed on. She preferred paintings and loved tapestries. She admitted she wanted to touch the sculptures—to feel the lines. I reminded her that would get us arrested but she could feel up my sculpture anytime she wanted.
That made her laugh.
We ate in little cafés; she baked more cookies. I made love to her in the sunlight. On the terrace, high above the city. In the kitchen as the cookies baked. She showed me the dress she had bought, and I assured her it would be perfect for the function we were attending as Richard’s guests.
We danced. She loved to dance as much as I did, although she insisted she had little experience. When I informed her it was all in the leading, she had rolled her eyes. But we fit well, and she followed like a dream, almost floating. In the sun, in the dark of the night, it didn’t matter. If she was humming, I caught her in my arms and we spun together, lost in the little bubble we had created.
I had never felt this way. Content. Happy to be with one person. Even in the quiet, I was never bored. I sought her out if she left the room. Found excuses to be in the kitchen, on the terrace, wherever she was.
And I tried not to delve into the reason.
I wasn’t ready. I wondered if I ever would be.
She appeared in the room, her hair swept up, her neck exposed, her necklace glinting. I loved the fact that she never took it off. The red dress she had shown me clung to her curves, the skirt swirling around her legs. The sleeves mostly hid the bruises on her arm, and she had covered them up well with makeup. It looked modest and elegant. Until she twirled.
It was backless, the strips of red fabric crisscrossed on her pale skin. I stepped closer, running my finger down her spine. “Beautiful,” I murmured, bending to kiss a small cluster of freckles by her shoulder blade. “Part of me is jealous.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Why?”
“Other men will see these little sexy dots. Until now, they were only mine.”
She smiled, turned, and lifted up on her toes. “They still are.”
I caught her around the waist and kissed her. “You are stunning.”
“Thank you.”
I crooked my arm. “Let’s go. I want to get this over with and bring you home. That dress needs to be on the floor beside our bed.”
She looked mischievous. “It might look nice on the floor just inside the door, too.” She patted the sofa. “It goes well here.”
I laughed and bent, nipping her neck. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Huh, too much for you, old man? Need to pace yourself?”
That was all the encouragement I needed.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d fixed her hair, my cock was satisfied, and we departed for the event.
Both of us were smiling.
I sensed Brianna’s nerves as we strolled into the room. Her grip on my hand was tight, and she was quiet. Much too quiet. I slipped my arm around her waist, kissing her temple. “Relax, Little Bee.”
“These people look far too intelligent and rich for me,” she muttered.
“Hey.” I squeezed her hip. “You’re with me. You fit in perfectly.”
“Such ego.”
I winked. “You know it.”
I introduced her to some clients. Other art dealers. Collectors. She was gracious and sweet, and I ignored the surprised glances. I rarely brought a woman to a function. And I certainly never held hands or kept them tucked to my side. But with Brianna, it felt right.