Read Online A Forbidden Love (Eligible Billionaires Book 9) by Maggie Marr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maggie Marr
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that said shh shh shh when she shook her head, had taken pity on Ilana, sitting all by herself with her pb&j at lunch. Amelia had sat right down and offered Ilana half of her blueberry muffin. That shared muffin had sealed the “best friends forever” deal.
Across the gallery, Amelia stood beside the L.A. Times art critic, charming her with a big smile and warm laugh and the ability to put anyone at ease. The critic smiled and waved her arms toward Late Night Landscape , a depiction of downtown L.A. at night. Amelia nodded and replied. Although Ilana was too far away to hear the words, she was certain that her best friend said the absolute right thing in response, because that’s who Amelia was. The girl who always knew just what to say. Yes, after years of work, Amelia had made it in the art world. The same Amelia who’d been all-in when Ilana suggested the Enrichment Center and who had helped Ilana to convince their artist friends in their beachside community to give classes to the children of Venice.
“People love Amelia’s art.”
A shiver chased up Ilana’s back and warmth flooded her body. Just the sound of Devon’s voice made heat flow through her. Desire. Want. She turned and her breath caught in her chest.
Would she ever look at Devon without being gobsmacked by his gorgeousness? Maybe, but probably not. That smile made sunshine look dim. Her gaze swept across the T-shirt he wore, just tight enough without being obnoxious. His pecs firm beneath the cotton fabric and the sleeves hitting the center of his biceps. Now those were a work of art. She imagined letting the tip of one finger trail over the golden skin, pulled taut over muscle. Having him lift her into his arms again and carry her across the room, maybe straight out to his car…
Devon put a hand on her waist. Heat flashed down her hip and flared between her legs. He leaned forward. A whiff of mint and soap and clean-man scent filled Ilana’s nostrils, as he leaned in to kiss her.
Heat cascaded through her body. His tongue touched her lips and teased them open. In this very public setting, Devon’s kiss seemed to tell the world that she was his. He pulled away. She fought hard to breathe.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Hi,” she whispered, her pulse skyrocketing, her body craving a private place for them to kiss again.
“I missed you today.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.
Almost as though they weren’t in an art gallery filled with fifty other people. She closed her eyes. This, Devon, how she felt, her life, almost all of it seemed too good to be true.
Fear sliced her heart.
What if it was? What if something bad happened, what if—
He pulled her body tighter against his. “I always feel better once we’re together.”
Ilana sighed. This. This moment. She would surrender to it and simply feel the happiness, not second-guess it.
“Me too.” She smiled up at Devon, the love she felt reflected in his eyes.
Devon leaned closer. “I saw a couple of prominent buyers.” His voice was low and his breath tickled her ear. My God, even when the man was just talking about her best friend’s art, her nipples tightened beneath her shirt. “Good sign when museums want to buy your work.”
“I’m so happy for her.”
Devon smiled, nuzzled her cheek. “How’s the ankle?”
Ilana shrugged. “It’s been a little sore. It’s been hard to stay off my feet as much as I should.”
“Lean on me.” He pivoted and offered her his arm. “Makes me feel useful.” She wrapped her hands around his bicep. Devon steered them toward the nearest piece.
“Do you have any of her work?”
“From her early period. Third grade, I think?”
“Seriously?”
Ilana nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were six. Met in first grade when I arrived midyear.”
“You guys are really old friends.”
“Closest thing either of us has to a sibling.”
Ilana’s eyes swept the canvas with bold brushstrokes of
Across the gallery, Amelia stood beside the L.A. Times art critic, charming her with a big smile and warm laugh and the ability to put anyone at ease. The critic smiled and waved her arms toward Late Night Landscape , a depiction of downtown L.A. at night. Amelia nodded and replied. Although Ilana was too far away to hear the words, she was certain that her best friend said the absolute right thing in response, because that’s who Amelia was. The girl who always knew just what to say. Yes, after years of work, Amelia had made it in the art world. The same Amelia who’d been all-in when Ilana suggested the Enrichment Center and who had helped Ilana to convince their artist friends in their beachside community to give classes to the children of Venice.
“People love Amelia’s art.”
A shiver chased up Ilana’s back and warmth flooded her body. Just the sound of Devon’s voice made heat flow through her. Desire. Want. She turned and her breath caught in her chest.
Would she ever look at Devon without being gobsmacked by his gorgeousness? Maybe, but probably not. That smile made sunshine look dim. Her gaze swept across the T-shirt he wore, just tight enough without being obnoxious. His pecs firm beneath the cotton fabric and the sleeves hitting the center of his biceps. Now those were a work of art. She imagined letting the tip of one finger trail over the golden skin, pulled taut over muscle. Having him lift her into his arms again and carry her across the room, maybe straight out to his car…
Devon put a hand on her waist. Heat flashed down her hip and flared between her legs. He leaned forward. A whiff of mint and soap and clean-man scent filled Ilana’s nostrils, as he leaned in to kiss her.
Heat cascaded through her body. His tongue touched her lips and teased them open. In this very public setting, Devon’s kiss seemed to tell the world that she was his. He pulled away. She fought hard to breathe.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Hi,” she whispered, her pulse skyrocketing, her body craving a private place for them to kiss again.
“I missed you today.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.
Almost as though they weren’t in an art gallery filled with fifty other people. She closed her eyes. This, Devon, how she felt, her life, almost all of it seemed too good to be true.
Fear sliced her heart.
What if it was? What if something bad happened, what if—
He pulled her body tighter against his. “I always feel better once we’re together.”
Ilana sighed. This. This moment. She would surrender to it and simply feel the happiness, not second-guess it.
“Me too.” She smiled up at Devon, the love she felt reflected in his eyes.
Devon leaned closer. “I saw a couple of prominent buyers.” His voice was low and his breath tickled her ear. My God, even when the man was just talking about her best friend’s art, her nipples tightened beneath her shirt. “Good sign when museums want to buy your work.”
“I’m so happy for her.”
Devon smiled, nuzzled her cheek. “How’s the ankle?”
Ilana shrugged. “It’s been a little sore. It’s been hard to stay off my feet as much as I should.”
“Lean on me.” He pivoted and offered her his arm. “Makes me feel useful.” She wrapped her hands around his bicep. Devon steered them toward the nearest piece.
“Do you have any of her work?”
“From her early period. Third grade, I think?”
“Seriously?”
Ilana nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were six. Met in first grade when I arrived midyear.”
“You guys are really old friends.”
“Closest thing either of us has to a sibling.”
Ilana’s eyes swept the canvas with bold brushstrokes of
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