Page 23 of Captive Lies

“I’m yours all day,” he paused. “Might have to do some work tonightthough.”

“I don’t like the idea of you working late because you have to spend time withme.”

Grant didn’t immediately respond. He sat up and scooted back against the elm tree and then dragged me into the circle of his arms. “Blaire, I was successful in business because nothing made me happier than closing that next deal.” His fingers combed through my hair. That felt good. I snuggled closer and his arms tightened. “Now nothing makes me happier than being here, exactly this way with you.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “You’re my new high, my drug of choice. Are you going to deny an addict hisfix?”

I took a good look at Grant. His grin supported the levity of his statement, but his eyes spoke of deeper emotions. This was confirmed when his smile faltered and his jaw tightened briefly. We were left at this awkward impasse because we were both holdingback.

“Well now, I don’t want to be that cruel,” I said lightly. “I guess I can put up with your company thisafternoon.”

“Witch,” hemurmured.

“I’ve got a couple of hours of sketching,” Iwarned.

“As I said, Angel, I’ll be right here,” he gave me a chaste peck on the lips then surveyed the scenery. “Are you going to translate this tooil?”

“Yes. The scenery would be perfect for my Medici colors, but I think I’ll stick to Windsor and Newton,” I saidglumly.

“Why?”

“I’m saving the Medici for Provincetown. You know I can’t get those paints anymore.” The Medici oil paints were handmade, and the paint maker, Stephen Vasari, had retired. The paints were made from the highest quality alkali-refined linseed oil, free from fillers like wax and chalk. The resulting pigments were vibrant and lush. Each tube was filled individually by hand. It was an artist’s dreammedium.

“Hmm …” Grant mumbled, absentmindedly stroking myhair.

I should be irritated that he probably asked the question to make small talk. Every time I talked about painting, he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, so maybe he was just tired. After all, he was here when he was supposed to be running anempire.

“So, what’s in the cooler?” I asked, deciding to redirect theconversation.

Grant untangled our limbs and yanked the cooler by the strap. He unearthed a bottle of wine, some cold cuts, and cheese. There was also cold pasta salad and roast chicken plus a variety of fruit. I got on my knees and dug through my bag for the wet wipes to clean myhands.

“You know you’re making this a perfect day,” I said. “Blue skies, calm breeze, tulips in full bloom.” Our eyes locked. “Sexy man at my beck and call.” I leaned in and teased him with my lips and was gratified when I registered the rumbling of a growl deep in his throat. “You look hungry, Mr. Thorne.” I plucked a grape from a cluster. “Have agrape.”

He snatched the berry from my hand but deliberately caught the tip of my fingers between his lips and let his tongue lick me. I inhaled sharply and his eyes flashed. We were treading on very risqué ground. His face was a stark canvas of a starved man and it had nothing to do withfood.

“Blaire,” he said thickly as he swallowed the fruit with difficulty. “I want to fuck you sobad.”

“I know,” I whispered and my tongue darted over my lower lip, my mouth suddenly dry. “Are you going to pour us somewine?”

“You know you’re going to pay for this later, right?” he muttered as he handed me wine in a plastic goblet. “The first thing I’m going to do is lick that pussy and make you come on my mouth so many times you beg me tostop.”

Ohdear.

“Roast chicken?” I held out a slice of breast; he accepted without taking his eyes offme.

“Then I’m going to force you down on your knees and fuck you frombehind.”

I squeezed my legs together as a pulse twitched my pussy. My goblet shook as I took a sip of redwine.

Our banter continued throughout lunch, I’d offer him food and he would describe the ways he wanted to fuck me. By the time we got to the chocolate mousse in shot glasses, he’d taken off his Henley, revealing his fitted white tee. That did nothing to calm my raging libido because I knew how those sculpted muscles looked beneath those last layers of threads. Meanwhile, I’d taken off my spring jacket and I was pretty sure my panties weresoaked.

“Maybe we should leave the mousse for later,” Grant suggested. “I can find better places to eat thisfrom.”

I raised a brow. “I’m sure you can, but I want mine just where itis.”

He chuckled, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “We sure worked ourselves up into trouble, didn’t we?” He stared mournfully at his hard-on.

“I had nothing to do with it,” I returned. “I was busy feedingyou.”

His gaze softened. “That was sweet,baby.”

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