Page 55 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

They climbed another set of stairs. She held the pizza box while Hart unlocked a door at the end of the hall. A single bulb flickered on, revealing a plain room. Shabby even. But the walls … the walls were alive with dozens of drawings—chalk, charcoal, watercolor. Mostly studies of women in various states of dress. Or undress, as was the case in some.

Natalie took her time, cruising the perimeter of the room to study each drawing. Growing up with Kate, she had a pretty good eye for art. When her gaze locked on one specific subject, Natalie released an audible gasp.

“Um, that’s me,” she said, a host of nervous butterflies taking flight inside her.

He’d captured her perfectly. Not a single detail overlooked, all the way down to the scuffmark on the strap of her shoe.

Damn. He’s good.

Like, text-this-to-Kate-immediately good.

"Hart Lockwood, these are brilliant."

He shrugged it off. "You found my best subject.”

He’s not wrong.

"This is more than a hobby. How long have you been doing this?”

"Since I was a kid. No formal training, but …”

"All this without a lesson?" Natalie shook her head. “My sister has an art dealer friend⁠—"

He gently cut her off. "I'm not looking for a second career. This is just for me.”

"You shouldn't hide these."

"I like to keep some things private.” He crossed to a filing cabinet. “Speaking of, I got something for you.”

A brown paper bag appeared in his hands. Natalie’s insides twisted. From the shape of it, it had to be a book. Probably a signed copy of his newest release.

“I bet I know what this is,” she said.

“I bet you don’t.”

Natalie pulled out the book. Hart had never been more right. She’d had no idea.

"The Kama Sutra?" Her voice cracked.

He swept her hair off her shoulder. "A classic. My favorite textbook."

Natalie stared, unsure whether to laugh or combust. Her brain scrambled for something clever, sexy, coherent—anything. His eyes darkened, emerald and intense, as his hand slipped around her waist.

Her eyes fluttered shut the moment their lips met. A warm, teasing kiss. One that ended much too soon.

His beard is so soft …

"I've dreamed of doing that all night."

"How was it?" she asked.

"I think it deserves a second shot."

Like from the pages of a romance novel, Hart raked the top of his desk clean. Papers rained onto the floor. The pizza box landed with a thud. With ease, he lifted Natalie onto his desk. His mouth found her earlobe, her neck, her collarbone, and her cleavage. He whispered in between kisses, every word thick with desire.

"And a third … and a fourth …"

Five minutes blurred into breathless heat before he paused, flushed and out of breath from this Olympic-caliber make-out sesh.