I frowned. “How much did they offer?”
At that, a grin spread on Theo’s lips. “The one you took in Nice of the man and woman facing opposite directions on the bench. You know the one?”
I nodded.
Theo leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Four-thousand euros.”
I slapped his chest, shoving him away as I shook my head over and over and he just laughed at my expense.
“You can’t be serious!”
“But I am,” he said. “So, should I sell it?”
I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, but then something in my heart squeezed tight, and I frowned, glancing down the hallway lined with my art. Every picture hanging in that gallery was a little piece of me, and though I’d always dreamed of sharing those little pieces with the world, I’d never considered that someone might want to purchase that little piece of me and take it home with them.
“How about this,” Theo said after a moment, pulling me into his arms again. He waited until my eyes were back on him before he continued. “I’ll have the curator collect the information of the potential buyers and let them know we’ll be in touch. That way, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. Okay? If you decide to sell, we’ll arrange it. Otherwise, we’ll have them all shipped back to New York.”
I smiled, shaking my head as my fingertips played with the lapel of his suit jacket. “I feel as transparent as wax paper with you around,” I said. “You can see what no one else can, what not even I can.”
“I feel the same way when you look at me,” he said, thumbing my chin. He smoothed the skin along my jaw, over my cheek, his hand slipping back to cup my neck. When I leaned into the touch with a sigh, he swallowed, his jaw set. “I’d like to take you home now.”
“Would you?” I asked, arching a brow playfully.
He nodded, and without another word, he swept me into his arms and out the back door of the gallery, leaving the guests and my photographs behind.
My feet had no sooner touched down on the plush rug in Theo’s master suite before his lips covered mine, warm and soft, his breath a long sigh of relief. It was like he’d been waiting for this moment all night, to have me alone and all to himself, and now he was reveling in the way it felt to wrap me in his arms.
I felt the same way.
After the last two days of uncertainty, of anxiety spirals and hopelessness, all I wanted was for Theo to consume me. I wanted him to cover me up in all that he was, until I could no longer tell where he stopped and I began.
I pressed onto my toes to deepen the kiss, sliding my hands up and over his shoulders under his jacket so I could push it down his arms. Theo released his grip on me long enough to help me strip him, and then he was doing the same to me, gently fingering the bobby pins out of my hair first until it fell down over my shoulders in long, curly waves.
I worked his tie next, and his hands tugged at the bow securing my skirt. I unfastened each button of his dress shirt and he broke our kisses long enough to strip my blouse overhead. It was completely silent, save for our breaths and the soft sounds of skin on skin, of fabric hitting the floor, of hearts thumping to life more and more with each touch.
When we were both fully nude, Theo wrapped me up in his arms again, the warmth of him meeting the warmth of me as we both exhaled together. He ran his hands back through my hair, tugging until my neck was arched, chin to the ceiling, and he kissed me hard and long, as if that kiss was his only chance to show me how he truly felt about me.
As if what he’d done for me tonight hadn’t already illustrated that perfectly.
Still, I leaned into that kiss like it was the vessel bringing me home until Theo scooped me up in his arms again and gently laid me down in the cool sheets of his giant bed.
I’d had Theo in a multitude of ways, ways that I was certain now no other woman ever had. I’d had him on his knees in the shower, tasting me and driving me to orgasm with one leg hooked over his shoulder. I’d had him pounding me from behind, his hand wrapped tightly around my neck until I had to tap his arm and beg for oxygen. I’d had his cock in my mouth, him groaning out instructions and guiding me until he pulled out and painted my chest with his release.
So many ways. So many nights and mornings and long afternoons. So many times now, I’d seen that man undress, and felt his hardness inside me, and known the ecstasy that came at the mercy of his fingertips, his tongue, his throbbing, thick member.
But I’d never had Theo Whitman like this.
I’d never had him quiet and trembling, his eyes locked on mine as he slipped between my legs and pulled the sheets up until they covered us like silky fog. I’d never had his arms tucked under me, his hands wrapped around my shoulders, thighs spreading my own until I opened for him. I’d never had his shaky breaths washing over my skin as he positioned himself at my entrance, never stared into his adoring eyes as he pressed inside me, never felt the difference between being fucked by Theo and having him make sweet love to me.
I gasped when he flexed all the way inside me, and Theo caught my breath with his mouth over mine, kissing me softly, surely, as he withdrew and flexed inside again. This time, I moaned, chills racing over my skin at the sensation
