“Tell me more about your painting.” As he speaks, he slides a gentle finger up the inside of my thigh. The thick coverall material may still be there, but it does nothing to shield me from the intensity of his touch. I’m still unzipped up top, and my nipples have been hard since I started cooking. But now, something else is going on between my thighs. My body is readying itself for him.
“Um…” I search for the words. “I paint portraits mostly. Not realist but not quite as abstract as your buddy Picasso there…”
“I’d love to see some sometime. Do you have an Instagram you post them on?”
“No.” I shake my head. His finger moves up, closer to my center of warmth. The electricity in the air has gone right through me. “I guess…I guess I’m just nervous. What if people don’t like my work?”
“You can’t let that hold you back, Amory.”
“I know, but…”
“But nothing,” he tells me. The strength in his voice leaps from his chest to mine. “As an artist, you need to share your work with the world. Everyone will have their detractors, but you just ignore them and move on. Do what you love.”
“Maybe…maybe after I keep painting, if you like them, then I’ll start showing them to the world,” I say, thinking out loud. “Maybe I’ll even paint you—”
“Shit!” Zander’s curse shakes me. He rises quickly from his chair and turns his back on me. Holding a hand to his brow, he shakes his head. Did I just do something wrong?
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer. It’s the only thing I can think of saying.
“No, it’s not you,” he grumbles. He turns to face me and…almost looks like he’s mad at me. “I mean, it is, but not in the way you think.”
“I…don’t understand…”
“I don’t do this, Amory,” he explains. The tone of his voice breaks my heart. This is a man who has everything, but I can see now that he’s missing the most important thing of all. Real love. “I don’t let people get close to me, especially women.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply. No. That was the wrong thing to say.
“No, don’t say that!” His voice is raised. He’s angry, but not at me. At himself. “It’s my fault. This whole thing is my fault and you—”
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at the door. Heavy. Almost threatening. But Zander doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. “Of all the fucking times…”
“Do you want me to go—?”
“No,” he replies firmly. “Stay here, sweetie. I will deal with this.”
Zander strides from the kitchen and I start to tidy up dinner. I hear a male’s voice from the foyer and even though I’m not trying to be a snoop, it’s impossible not to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.
“Had a little something happen over at the Met tonight, Zander.” Whoever this man is, he’s confident, goading. My guess is he’s with law enforcement.
“That right? Catch some punks doing graffiti again, Detective?”
Detective. I was right.
“Somebody tried to steal a Picasso. Lost it on the way out somehow though. Left it sitting in the hallway. A security guard found it and called it in.”
“That’s real interesting, Detective, but if you don’t mind—”
“I looked at the job – the guy came in through a skylight and went out the same way, and the whole time I’m thinking to myself, This feels like Zander Duke.”
“Detective—”
“Now it was sloppier than your jobs,” the detective continues. “Pulley broke. Found the rope beside the painting. Guy’s lucky to have not fallen and broken his neck. But I couldn’t still help but feel like I was looking at your work.”
I can’t help it. I inch around the kitchen island and peek through the door to see the detective, tall, with red hair, wearing a long beige trench coat, almost smiling at Zander.
“Listen, Childers,” Zander says. “I know you’ve got this fantasy in your head that I’m some billionaire-by-day, art-thief-by-night, but I’m just a businessman. I’m flattered that you have this opinion of me, but—”
“Don’t screw with me, Duke,” Childers says, continuing to smile. “You’re getting sloppy. One of these days, you’re going to take a wrong step and you’re going to fall. And when you look up, I’m going to be standing right there over you.”
Zander doesn’t respond. He stands there stony as Detective Childers holds his gaze, then turns and walks out the door. I quickly go back to what I was doing at the sink.
“Son of a bitch,” Zander mutters as he comes back into the room. “Sorry about that. Prick’s got a real hard-on for me.”
“It’s okay, I was just cleaning up—”
I’m silenced by a kiss. My first kiss.
My body blossoms like a flower coming into bloom. The electric feeling quadruples and sends shivers from my toes through my spine to my ears, which begin to burn with excitement.
Wow. So this is what it’s like to get physical with someone.
And boy, is Zander physical.
In an instant, my coveralls are down at my waist. With a single hand, he slides my sports bra up and exposes my breasts to him again. This time, there’s no hesitation. He leans right in and kisses my nipples like they’re sweet little candies. My mouth falls open and I collapse into his arms.
They’re strong. He catches me with ease and spins me like we’re dancing, then hoists me onto the kitchen island and lays me on my back before him. When I look up, the desire in his face is unmistakable. I’ve thought about losing my virginity many times before—every girl has. But none of my fantasies ever came close to this moment.
Zander Duke. He’s the only man that seems capable now of claiming me. He’s the only man I would want at this moment, and as he hooks his fingers in the straps of my panties and pulls, the full reality of the situation hits me, and I let out a moan.
“Christ, look at that gorgeous pussy,” Zander mutters as he pulls my panties and coveralls down at the same time. Now I’m lying naked beneath him on the island, like a freshly-prepared meal only for him. “Every inch of your body is perfection, sweetie. Not even a master painter could capture your beauty.”
It’s a good thing I’m already on my back; the intensity of his gaze could level me. He peels his shirt off, and I see his sculpted torso. Muscles upon muscles, chiseled and defined. His abs ripple as he tosses it aside and I see the two v-lines pointing down into his pants, igniting my imagination. When I hear his belt buckle click, I begin to writhe beneath him.
I’ve never thought of myself as sexy. I’m a mess at work, with coveralls and no makeup, and when I’m at home, I’m in sweatpants, my hair’s a mess, and I’m speckled with paint. But the way Zander’s looking at me has me feeling things I’ve never felt before.
“I wish I’d met you sooner,” he says as he slides his pants down, exposing his carved lower abs to me. His boxers hang low and I can already see the bulge beneath them. The warm feeling inside me spreads between my thighs as I get wet for him…