through the
magnificent paintings. She forgot being upset about not getting sex and got
caught up in the paintings around her. Famous ones she'd only ever seen
pictures of.
Then Colin stopped. "This is
it."
She gasped. "Monet's
water-lilies."
"Surrounded by modern
pieces, the most unmodern painting. The incongruity pleases me." Colin
wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "Have you ever been to
Giverny, where Monet lived?"
"No." She hadn't been
anywhere.
He lowered his head, so he spoke
softly in her ear. "Neither have I, but I imagine it looks just like that.
Water lilies and little bridges, the colors soft and blending into each other."
She nodded, understanding.
"My father's gardens are magical like that."
"Then you'd appreciate
Giverny."
"I'd like to see it some
day."
"That can be arranged."
He kissed the nape of her neck, a lingering press that gave her delicious
shivers, and then took her hand. "Come with me."
He took her through another
gallery, to the back and into a restricted area.
"Colin?" She looked
around. "I don't think we're supposed to be back here."
"We aren't." He pulled
her into an office and locked the door behind them.
"Where is here?" she
asked, looking around the room.
"My cousin's office."
He gave her a boyish grin. "Come here."
He guided her to the other side
of the room, to the windows. The office overlooked the Thames, and in the
distance there was the Millennium Bridge. She pointed to what looked like a
church. "What is that?"
"St. Paul's Cathedral."
He embraced her from behind, running his hands over her. "I'm glad you
wore a dress."
Her breath hitched as he
ever-so-slowly lifted her skirt. It was instant arousal, a rush of warmth, a
jittery excitement. She felt cool air on the backs of her legs, the scratch of
his wool pants, and thought she'd die right there.
He slipped a finger under the
elastic of her underwear and murmured, "I like this."
She nodded because she couldn't
form a word to save her life. Then she moaned as one of his hands slipped into
her bra and the other into her panties.
He moved away. Confused, she
looked behind to see him pull out a condom and ready himself. Then he retook
his position behind her. Drawing her underwear to one side, he slid inside her,
little by little.
It was startling—it'd been
so long for her.
It was deliciously thrilling.
"I've thought of nothing but
this," he whispered. "But this is just an appetizer. Main course is
waiting at home."
She shivered, her hands braced on
the window. "You won't be full after this course?"
"I could gorge on you
forever and never be full."
It was bedroom talk, but in that
moment she believed him.
He eased in and out of her,
holding her against him so she felt secure and cherished. The whole time he
whispered wicked things in her ear.
It'd been too long, and she was
too worked up. She peaked, crying out, her fists banging on the window. Dimly
she was aware of Colin following her into climax.
He squeezed her close, holding
her until she regained feeling in her legs. Then he kissed her temple and fixed
her clothing
"That was—" Words
escaped her.
"Delicious?" he offered
as he righted himself.
"Yes."
He tucked her into his side and
gave her a kiss that had her blood sizzling again. "Wait until you taste
the main course."
Chapter Ten
Leilani listened to the surly
British artist on the other end of the line, nodding sympathetically as he
complained about the trials of being a genius. Normally, by this point in the
conversation, her patience would be waning. Today she felt incredibly generous.
She was in an excellent mood, and the reason was Colin.
She'd had sex. Finally . Only it wasn't just sex. It'd
been epic.
She smiled wide, positive that if
she looked in a mirror she'd look like the Cheshire cat.
Mel walked up to the desk,
looking questioning at the phone.
Leilani scribbled the artist's
name on a piece of paper and held it up, chuckling silently when Mel groaned.
She
magnificent paintings. She forgot being upset about not getting sex and got
caught up in the paintings around her. Famous ones she'd only ever seen
pictures of.
Then Colin stopped. "This is
it."
She gasped. "Monet's
water-lilies."
"Surrounded by modern
pieces, the most unmodern painting. The incongruity pleases me." Colin
wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "Have you ever been to
Giverny, where Monet lived?"
"No." She hadn't been
anywhere.
He lowered his head, so he spoke
softly in her ear. "Neither have I, but I imagine it looks just like that.
Water lilies and little bridges, the colors soft and blending into each other."
She nodded, understanding.
"My father's gardens are magical like that."
"Then you'd appreciate
Giverny."
"I'd like to see it some
day."
"That can be arranged."
He kissed the nape of her neck, a lingering press that gave her delicious
shivers, and then took her hand. "Come with me."
He took her through another
gallery, to the back and into a restricted area.
"Colin?" She looked
around. "I don't think we're supposed to be back here."
"We aren't." He pulled
her into an office and locked the door behind them.
"Where is here?" she
asked, looking around the room.
"My cousin's office."
He gave her a boyish grin. "Come here."
He guided her to the other side
of the room, to the windows. The office overlooked the Thames, and in the
distance there was the Millennium Bridge. She pointed to what looked like a
church. "What is that?"
"St. Paul's Cathedral."
He embraced her from behind, running his hands over her. "I'm glad you
wore a dress."
Her breath hitched as he
ever-so-slowly lifted her skirt. It was instant arousal, a rush of warmth, a
jittery excitement. She felt cool air on the backs of her legs, the scratch of
his wool pants, and thought she'd die right there.
He slipped a finger under the
elastic of her underwear and murmured, "I like this."
She nodded because she couldn't
form a word to save her life. Then she moaned as one of his hands slipped into
her bra and the other into her panties.
He moved away. Confused, she
looked behind to see him pull out a condom and ready himself. Then he retook
his position behind her. Drawing her underwear to one side, he slid inside her,
little by little.
It was startling—it'd been
so long for her.
It was deliciously thrilling.
"I've thought of nothing but
this," he whispered. "But this is just an appetizer. Main course is
waiting at home."
She shivered, her hands braced on
the window. "You won't be full after this course?"
"I could gorge on you
forever and never be full."
It was bedroom talk, but in that
moment she believed him.
He eased in and out of her,
holding her against him so she felt secure and cherished. The whole time he
whispered wicked things in her ear.
It'd been too long, and she was
too worked up. She peaked, crying out, her fists banging on the window. Dimly
she was aware of Colin following her into climax.
He squeezed her close, holding
her until she regained feeling in her legs. Then he kissed her temple and fixed
her clothing
"That was—" Words
escaped her.
"Delicious?" he offered
as he righted himself.
"Yes."
He tucked her into his side and
gave her a kiss that had her blood sizzling again. "Wait until you taste
the main course."
Chapter Ten
Leilani listened to the surly
British artist on the other end of the line, nodding sympathetically as he
complained about the trials of being a genius. Normally, by this point in the
conversation, her patience would be waning. Today she felt incredibly generous.
She was in an excellent mood, and the reason was Colin.
She'd had sex. Finally . Only it wasn't just sex. It'd
been epic.
She smiled wide, positive that if
she looked in a mirror she'd look like the Cheshire cat.
Mel walked up to the desk,
looking questioning at the phone.
Leilani scribbled the artist's
name on a piece of paper and held it up, chuckling silently when Mel groaned.
She
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