Page 106 of His Big Bad Stick

It even catches me off guard.

Colver seems surprised by that.

I turn and walk behind the main counter.

I blink forcibly.

Colver is never going to be the guy that says the fake, reassuring stuff.

And, yes, technically, all the paintings in this gallery are his. He purchased them. He brought them to me. I’m sure there’s some legal gray area there if things came down to it…

I touch my stomach and close my eyes.

Wow, Abrielle, you sure know how to pick men…

Maybe I am just like my mother in that sense.

Maybe I’m walking in the same footsteps as her.

Now that gives me an awful sinking feeling.

I’m a second away from exploding into tears when I feel hands touch my hips.

Instead of crying, I gasp.

I’m spun around.

I look up at Colver.

His hands touch my hips again. Touch the top of my pants. Fingertips maybe flirting…

“I get it, kitten,” he whispers. “That was a shitty comment to make. All things considered. I would never ask-”

“It’s only fair,” I cut in. “What’s yours is yours, Colver. It also means I need to paint new stuff for myself.”

“You’re right.”

“I am?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. He inches down toward me. “What’s mine is mine.”

His mouth touches mine.

I whimper and open my mouth, instantly wanting more.

He kisses me deep and hard.

His fingers no longer flirt, they take action.

The kiss abruptly ends and Colver starts to disappear… going down…

I gasp. “Colver… what…”

“Shut up, kitten,” he growls. “What’s mine is fucking mine.”

His growling voice sends chills throughout my body.

Colver eases my pants down. I’m standing behind the counter of my gallery. It’s plenty light outside. The doors aren’t locked.

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