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Most starving artists would drop to their knees for Rafael. Not me.
But every time she rocked herself to gape out the left or right window, a burst of color erupted from between her shifting thighs, the color of bright lava, and it made my groin just as hot. I imagined myself sliding up the privacy screen, yanking aside her panties, and burying myself balls-deep in her hot, wet pussy. But then I’d think again about how much the doorman had wanted to do that, too, and I seethed.
I’d thought it would be easy to keep my hands off Emi. But since we’d cleared the air, since she’d made friends with my father, since she’d turned me on with her jealousy in the office… it was all changing.
I reminded myself what was at stake. If things didn’t work out with each other, I might put Palms back up for Astrid. And it would devastate my dad.
What was at stake was far more than getting laid. More than falling in love. Because seeing my dad suffer over the loss of my mom, I knew love never ended well. I couldn’t let sex and my raging libido or some feelings fuck this up. I grabbed my wool coat and laid it over her legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“That dress. I told you to wear tights with it.”
“I didn’t have time to get any. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been painting like all day and night.”
I had noticed. And her unexpected grit and devotion was just another thing that added to the attraction… fuck.
She flicked the coat off her legs and considered me playfully. A cheeky little smile challenged me. She had no idea what kind of push-pull repressed torture was raging inside me.
She bobbled her head, joking. “No man will tell me how to dress. It’s up to you to not look or touch. It’s not up to me to censor myself.”
I loved how she was her own woman. But I really needed her to cover those legs. Like now. My pants grew tighter with every move she made. And now, her sweet rebellion was making me even harder because it was so damn attractive.
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, darling feminist wife of mine, I have news for you. You only get the money and the fame if you get good reviews playing this starring role.” I picked up the coat from aside her and tossed it back on her lap. “Put on your costume.” And then the image of that fucking footman returned and, as if some green-eyed goblin used me as a puppet, I said, “My eyes only, Emi.”
I hadn’t meant to sound so possessive. But she really needed to play by the rules before one of us broke them.
She paused for a beat, and her face searched mine. Was I serious? She didn’t fucking care if I was. This was Emi we were dealing with, after all.
She brushed the coat aside again and stared me in the eyes defiantly.
She tugged the middle part of her dress fabric down an inch further between her legs, rolled her lips together, then let them pop.
“I have a question…” she narrowed her eyes, saucy and brazen. “… my dear husband. Am I covering up for all these so-called people looking at me? Or am I covering up for you?”
I should have known she’d be the first to dare. The first to cross the line. The first to play with fire.
I gave in to temptation, “Which would you rather?”
She pursed her lips. “Well… I asked you first.”
I was better at silence than she was. I’d starve her out. It only took a few seconds…
“Both,” she said. “You want me to cover up for both. You don’t want to see it. You don’t want them to see it.”
She stated as though this was facts, but clearly, she still questioned. It would have been better if I’d left her in that state of wonder. Let her think I didn’t like what I saw. That I wasn’t turned on. But I remembered I’d left her feeling insecure once. And I sure as hell wouldn’t do it twice. Not after the way she’d carried my stupid comment from years ago. Not after the way I’d seen just how messed up CJ was.
“Em, trust me… I want to see it.” I gazed at her sincerely. “But it’s better for us both if I don’t.”
She considered me, satisfaction glowing her cheeks. And then her expression shifted, flirty, but a hell of a lot more sultry than before. Shit. Paris was in the air, and we were both getting high on it.
The result would soon show in my pants. I thought she’d drop it there. It all would have been so much easier if she had.
“Don’t you think being out as husband and wife will be easier this weekend if you let yourself like me just a little bit more than you do?”
“I like you plenty. More now than I used to.”
“I like you more now, too…”
My heart stuttered, but I said what had to be said. “But this is a professional arrangement.”
“And if it wasn’t?”
God, I loved those flirty brown bedroom eyes… they were totally, utterly irresistible.
I shuffled forward and placed my knee between her thighs, moving my leg side to side until she let her thighs fall open, revealing those brightly colored panties. “If it wasn’t, Wife, I’d have a sliver of satin between my teeth right now.”
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