“The gallery manager gave me his contact details,” I say.
“Excellent. We can go see him together.”
“With Henry. He mentioned he was going to talk to you about it soon,” I add.
“No. Just us,” he says, his voice dropping. His tone leaves no room for argument.
Okay, then.
He sets his wine down and steps around the kitchen island into my personal space, planting a palm on the counter next to me. “I must admit, I’m finding it very difficult to focus on art right now.”
I wet my bottom lip, tipping my head back to watch him. “Really? Then what is it you’re focusing on right now?”
“I think you know exactly what has my attention, Gemma.”
His eyes dip to the hollow of my throat. Mine dip to his very obvious erection.
“Let me take your coat,” he offers.
“Thank you,” I say, standing to turn my back to his chest. I slowly shrug it off my shoulders, revealing my emeraldlingerie underneath. A smile flits across my lips upon his low growl behind me.
“Christ, Gemma. If I’d known you were wearing that, I wouldn’t have bothered with the wine.”
“Good boys wait,” I reply.
“I can assure you, I’m not a good boy.” He tosses my coat over the back of the barstool.
His fingertips skate across my collarbone and down my arm in a lazy exploration, leaving goose bumps in their wake. The simple touch melts my insides. All my senses are heightened. Suddenly, he drops his hand and steps back.
“Turn around. Slowly,” he instructs.
Watching Max’s perfect composure crack at the sight of my body makes me feel invincible. His stare is ravenous, eating up every inch of me. I may be the one standing bare while he’s still dressed, but I’ve never felt more in command.
Women will always hold all the power.
I turn around slowly, giving him a full 360-degree view of my body. When my gaze finally lands on his stormy eyes, the flimsy material between my legs dampens. This man looks like he’s struggling to restrain his urgency for me.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Tempting little thing.”
“Who, me?” I ask, my voice innocent.
“You’re a troublemaker,” he says, stepping closer. “Do you know what happens to troublemakers?”
“I’m hoping you’ll show me.”
“Mmm…” He hums in appreciation, tracing the delicate strap of my bra with his thumb and forefinger. His knuckles follow a path from my shoulder down to my breast, sending shivers across my skin. My nipple stiffens as he leans in, peppering soft kisses along my jawline. I close my eyes, my head falling back as a sound of contentment escapes my lips.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against my skin, his fingers traveling down my stomach. “If I touch you, will I find you wet?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Your doorman is just really hot. I can’t help it. Sorry.”
He laughs against my neck as his fingers toy with the elastic of my thong.
“Take this off,” he whispers.
I oblige, carefully stepping out of the lacy thong and dropping it to the floor.
He continues dotting kisses along my throat, alternating between soft and gentle, then a scrape of teeth, as his hand dips lower. I hold my breath, my body tensing as his fingers finally run over my wet center.
