Not even if there’s a twinge of jealousy as he leans down to whisper something in her ear to make her laugh. She says something back, her eyes sparkling, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
Then she looks at me and I’m fucking breathless.
Despite all the denial to my family, and even to myself, it’s so damn obvious I’m falling for this woman.
And I know I shouldn’t. I know there’s a whole world of problems in front of me, problems she doesn’t deserve.
Problems that will worsen until I need assistance to walk, until traveling is only possible with the help of an aide.
Until I can’t see anything beautiful. Including art. Or her.
I swallow down that thought. Because the only thing worse than not being able to see her is not being able to touch her. And fuck, I want to touch her all the time.
Jean swings her around, until he’s facing me. He sees me staring and he grins like he can read my damn mind.
Or my body language.
Yeah, well enjoy this dance, buddy. You paid for it. But there’s no version of tonight where she doesn’t end up in my arms.
The band segues into another song, and I step forward.
“May I cut in?” I murmur.
“If you have to,” Jean says, his eyes gleaming like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Although I’m willing to pay another twenty thousand for a second dance.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him, my voice even. “Go pay another guy’s woman for a dance.”
He leans forward to kiss Sadie’s cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “You’re a beautiful woman. He’s a good guy, but make him work for you.” He walks away, grinning like he’s having the best time making me suffer, and I shake my head before I pull her into my arms.
And immediately my whole body relaxes.
“Hello stranger,” she says, looping her arm around my neck. I pull her closer, pressing my face in her hair, inhaling her shampoo. “Did you miss me?” she teases.
“Absolutely,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
I sway us to the music, slow and unhurried, like we have all the time in the world. But I already know I’ll never have enough of her.
“You know,” she says, tilting her head back to look atme, “I would’ve let him buy another dance. Twenty thousand’s not bad for three minutes of work.”
I narrow my eyes, shifting my grip to her waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll make him pay it anyway. The man has more money than he knows what to do with.”
Her brows lift. “Damn. I should have demanded more.” She looks over my shoulder, like she’s thinking of calling him back.
“Yeah, well now you’re mine.” I slide my hand down her back. I know I’m being possessive. And I’m not used to feeling like this. Not about a woman, anyway.
But she’s not just any woman. She’s my perfect piece of art.
“Wyatt seems nice,” she says, as I move us across the floor. She lets me lead her – like she knows I need this. Or maybe she needs it too.
That’s the weird thing about us. She likes me to be dominant sometimes. I like that, too. I’ve always been a bossy asshole. But anybody who could read my mind would know she owns me.
With her, I’m bottoming from the top.
She lets out a soft sigh, like she feels it too. This perfect synchronicity between us. She presses her face against my chest, like she belongs in my arms.
And I don’t care who’s watching. Or talking about us.
I don’t even care that tomorrow she’ll find out the truth. Because maybe there’s still a way for us. Even if it’s just for a while. The truth is, I’ll take whatever I can from her.
