She runs a red painted fingernail down the front of my shirt at a torturous pace, watching my reaction through thosedeceivingly innocent glasses. When she reaches my belt, she keeps going. Her palm cups my hard cock over my trousers and my breath hitches.
“I have work to do,” she says with a ghost of a grin, snatching her hand back abruptly. She spins on her heels and marches toward the door.
“Gemma. See you tonight,” I call after her. “Don’t leave me waiting. You won’t like the consequences.”
She pauses in the doorway to glance over her shoulder.
“You might want to do something about that,” she says, nodding toward the obvious tent in my pants.
And then she’s gone, leaving me impossibly hard, frustrated, and already counting down the hours until I can make her scream my name.
There’s a chance this could blow up in our faces. But as I watch Gemma’s hips sway out of my office, I squash that internal voice of reason.
I can’t wait to have my wicked way with her.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gemma
What on earth have I just signed up for?
Agreeing to an exclusive arrangement? What am Idoing? I swore black and blue that I wouldn’t commit to a man again after Todd, and here I am, champing at the bit as soon as Max dangles his monstrosity of a cock in front of me. It’s like waving a red flag at a bull. I can’t resist.
If I’m completely honest with myself, I’ve been attracted to Max since the moment I laid eyes on him. That attraction might have been concealed by sarcasm and irritation, but it’s always been there. But I can absolutely enjoy this attraction without turning it into something more.
Truth be told, I like the way he tests me. I like the way he pushes me past my comfort zone. There aren’t a lot of men brave enough to do that.
His arrogance paired with how incredible he looks in an Italian suit has me counting down the hours until nine o’clock.
A loud buzz sounds through my office as my phone vibrates, lighting up with a message from April. We’d planned earlier in the week to meet at the new Contemporary Art Gallery in Knightsbridge during our lunch break. Since herwork is only ten minutes away, and she has an excellent eye for art, it’s perfect timing.
The gallery’s manager graciously carved out time for us to peruse pieces recently donated from private collections. We’re hoping to find something perfect for a potential collaboration with Gray Hotel. I’m hopeful if we find suitable pieces, we’ll be able to bring prestige for both the gallery and our hotel opening.
I jump off the underground, adjusting my scarf against the frigid wind.
April stands just inside the doorway to the gallery, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug when I arrive.
“I’m so happy to see you! I’ve been looking forward to visiting this gallery for the longest time. Apparently, they have an incredible ceramic collection by an up-and-coming Spanish sculptor!” she says.
“Me too. God, I hope I can find something suitable. I feel like I need to prove myself to Chad-dick and Max,” I say as I adjust my bag on my shoulder.
Her brows tug together. “Why? You’re brilliant. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
Bless her, the angel. I need to tell her about Max and me. I know we agreed to keep our arrangement from Anna, but if I only have Henry to talk to about this, I’ll go insane.
I shoot her a small smile as we approach the reception desk.
“Good afternoon, ladies. How can I help you today?” says a cheerful woman.
“Hi!” April says. “We made an appointment to view the private collections today. I’m April and this”—she gestures to me—“is Gemma.”
The woman’s face brightens. “Ah, yes. Of course, I spoke with you earlier. Absolutely. My name is Camille and I’ll be showing you around the gallery. Just let me fetch our receptionist and I’ll take you through.”
We link arms as Camille begins our tour. We walk from room to room, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the gorgeous works.
“We’ve curated several pieces we believe would complement Gray Hotel’s aesthetic and vision,” she explains, gesturing to a brightly colored installation. She then walks us through a room of abstract paintings and sculptures. They’re edgy and sophisticated, exactly what I’m looking for.
