What a Lord Wants by Anna Harrington

Author:Anna Harrington [Harrington, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rose Garden Books

Chapter 14

Sweet Lucifer.

Dom stared at her, unable to breathe. Unable to move at all, except for the pounding of his heart and a flexing of his cock.

Good God, she was beautiful. Not just her body, finally laid bare to him, with the fullness of her breasts, the soft curves of her hips as they rounded down into her thighs…the silky waves of her red hair spilling across her shoulders, with one wanton curl daring to tease at a dusky pink nipple.

No. It was her expression that held him prisoner. That same appearance of innocent invitation he’d glimpsed in her the day they met. That look of being secretly stumbled upon, of nervously contemplating what could be allowed to happen if consequences were thrown aside. Only Eve could create such emotion, with her determination to grab onto life by both hands and not let go. Her eyes glowed with it, and her lips parted delicately in anticipation of what could be—

The subject he’d longed to capture. The real woman with the inner light of a goddess.

Her face softened patiently, as if she knew that his artist’s soul was warring with the gentleman inside him. “Finish the painting, Dom.”

“I can’t,” he rasped out, although he desperately wanted to.

“Yes, you can.”

With an awkward laugh of incredulous disbelief, he turned away in an attempt to tamp down his lust. She had no idea how great a temptation she posed to him, both as an artist and a man.

He pointed at the easel. “That painting can never be shown. You’ll be recognized, and your reputation truly will be destroyed.”

“Then paint it for yourself,” she answered, undeterred. “Prove to yourself that you’re the great artist everyone proclaims you to be.” Her bare shoulders melted against the velvet beneath her as she whispered, “Because I already know how brilliant you are.”

His chest swelled with more masculine pride than he had a right to feel.

Uncertainty touched her voice. “You do want to paint me like this, don’t you?”

“Yes.” More than I want to breathe.

“Then paint me.”

He shook his head as he began to pace back and forth across the studio like a restless lion in a cage. Her eyes followed him patiently, a soft pleading in their honey-amber depths.

Grasping at any excuse he could, he halted in mid-stride and jabbed a finger toward the lantern hanging by its peg. “The light is wrong—all wrong. The lamplight will color your skin, the shadows—”

“Am I not pretty enough by lamplight?”

He groaned in frustration. Pretty enough? With the way the light shined golden on her bare skin and lit her hair like flames of burnished gold…Not pretty. Sublime.

“Tonight is all the time we have left,” she quietly stated the obvious, as if explaining that rain fell down and winters were cold. “Do you want to spend it arguing with me or painting me?”

All they had left, a few precious hours…Something inside him broke. Succumbing to her enticement, he strode to the easel and whisked away the cloth. Her image stared back at him from the canvas, still unfinished.

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