And he forgot everything else in the world and kissed her.
* * *
Anna
Anna moaned against Oliver’s tongue as their kiss deepened, grew wilder. She leaned up into him, gasping as his arms came around her, as he pushed her into the room, kicking the door shut behind them. He pivoted her, pressing her back against the barrier and leaning against her, letting her feel his weight, his warmth. His passion. Oh, yes, she felt his passion. As powerful and sharp as her own when it bloomed and spread throughout her entire body.
And she could have this. Have this man, have this pleasure, have everything…if she said yes to Pembroke’s wicked suggestion. She pulled back reluctantly, still tasting Oliver on her lips even when she moved from his arms. He didn’t follow her as she paced away, around to the other side of the bed, as if the barrier would make her forget what he felt like when he touched her.
“Do you want this?” Oliver asked, his voice low and rough. Intoxicating. God, how that voice moved her.
She fought for purchase on her wild emotions. “I-I don’t know. All I can wonder is if it’s fair to you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and something shifted in his expression. There was no longer only naked desire on his face, but something deeper and richer. Something she feared as she saw it and also wished she could have.
“You know I would do anything for you, Anna,” he said, his lips trembling. “That I would pull down the stars if you asked. And if we do this, I promise you, I will live on the memory of every moment until the day I die.”
Anna’s heart beat faster at the passion with which he said those words, at the way he said her name, like it was some benediction that rolled off his tongue. She never wanted him to call herYour Graceever again, only her name. Whispered, shouted, moaned. She’d never loved the sound of it more.
“It wouldn’t be forever,” she said, almost to herself as much as him. “The time here would be a bubble, something trapped behind glass that we can’t reach after it’s over.”
He blinked. “I know that’s how it would have to be.”
She bent her head, her breath coming short, her hands shaking. “I want you,” she murmured. “I…I want this.”
She heard the rumble from deep within his chest and looked up to see his expression lined with relief. He nodded. “Then we should tell him,” he said. “Though we could wait until tomorrow, to see if you change your mind.”
Anna shook her head and came back around the bed. She took his hand and lifted it, pressing a kiss to his rough knuckles, lifting his fingers to lean her cheek into their weight. He clenched them against her skin gently, his lips parting.
“I’m not going to change my mind, Oliver. And I don’t want to waste whatever time we have here.” She held his gaze, lost in him, lost in the surprise and delight of what was going to happen. “Let’s tell him now.”
* * *
Ezra
Ezra was in his chamber, half-undressed, when there was a light knock on his door. He glanced toward the sound, wrinkling his brow. He had asked not to be disturbed—he wanted to think about all that had happened in such a short span of time.
He moved to the door and opened it to find Oliver and Anna standing there. Together. As always, Oliver was slightly in front of her, a partial wall of protection. One Ezra found himself desperately wanting to prove was not required.
“Oliver, Anna,” he said, noting how Anna caught her breath at this, his first usage of her given name. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Do you need anything?”
“We—we want to do it,” Anna stammered, reaching out to take Oliver’s hand. His fingers slid between hers and he squeezed gently. A reassurance that felt as intimate as anything they would potentially do next. Ezra remembered what that kind of connection felt like.
He swallowed. “You want me to paint you. Together. The way the other pieces in my studio are done?” He needed to reiterate those facts, to be certain all parties fully understood. “You know that I’ll watch you together. That I’ll see everything you do to each other.”
Oliver shifted, and Ezra couldn’t help but notice the hard ridge of his erection pressed against his trousers. God, but that man was irresistible. How had Anna managed it all this time?
“I know,” she said. “I want…I want that, too.”
Ezra let his eyes shut and his breath exit his lungs in a shaky sigh. “And what about you, Oliver? Do you want me to watch you?”
When he looked at him, he found Oliver’s gaze locked firmly and confidently on his. “I do, Pembroke.”
“Ezra,” Ezra corrected. “If we’re going to do something so wicked, so lovely, so vulnerable…then I think you should call me Ezra.”
Anna nodded. “Ezra,” she murmured.
Ezra noted that Oliver didn’t call him by his name. That was fine. In time, that might come. He motioned toward the hallway. “Then let’s go to my studio. I don’t want to waste a moment of this creative inspiration that you two have brought back to me. I want to paint you. Tonight.”
