Page 48 of Power and Possession

“I think—this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He looked down at me, his eyes sharp and focused as he peered into my very soul. “Tell me about it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Steele

Ashlynn was mesmerized by the photographs. She possessed an artistic soul, taking in each picture with her caramel-colored eyes, pursing her lips as she considered each piece. It was so damn adorable. Her smile never faltered as she took in each display, joy and happiness surrounding her and, by extension, me too. I’d been looking at art all my life, but I’d never truly felt it like she did. It made me wonder what I’d been missing all along.

And then it hit me. It was her.

I’d been waiting for Ashlynn.

I didn’t even care about her father anymore. I didn’t give a damn about what he’d done, because it had led me to her.

I wanted to lock her in my vault, keep her with the precious pieces of art that I couldn’t part with, the pieces that moved me in ways that I couldn’t comprehend. I thought I’d been searching for meaning through art—but it was through Ashlynn that I’d finally found it.

The hurt and rejection I’d felt as a child didn’t seem to sting as harshly as it once did. The pain of my past was irrelevant now.

She walked slightly ahead of me, her womanly hips swaying as she took in the rest of the photographs. I hesitated, then pulled my phone out of my pocket and called her back to me.

“I want a picture of us.” I put my arm around her shoulders and reversed the camera.

“A selfie?” She wrinkled her nose. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” I said, pulling her even closer to me. I never cared for pictures, and the only ones that existed of me were the ones on business websites and society papers. But I wanted a picture of Ashlynn and me together, frozen in time, just like the art surrounding us.

She posed, smiling, but her smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes like it did when she was evaluating the photos. She was a bit tense, even. I snapped the picture and then she relaxed, wiggling out of my arms as she continued on, admiring a Robert Frank photograph.

I sighed, content to watch her happiness. The displays were breathtaking, but watching her enjoyment of them was pure heaven. I followed her to another room, more of an alcove, as she examined the black and white photographs. The lighting was warm and golden, and her hair shimmered in the light, her bouncy curls settling around her mid-back as she waltzed from picture to picture. It was a random Thursday afternoon, and we were pretty much the only occupants in the museum. As she bit her lip and stepped back to view the images in full, I met her head on, pressing her gently against the opposite wall, her eyes still fixated on the print.

“Steele,” she murmured, not rejecting me, but not participating fully in what I had planned. I planted my hands on either side of her, caging her within my arms. Her eyes flicked to mine, and I saw desire there, but it was clouded. I knew she wanted me, but she was still conflicted about our relationship. Trying to change her mind, I leaned forward and gently kissed her, slowly moving my lips against hers. I put every single ounce of passion into the kiss that I could, wanting to show her how I felt without scaring her or myself. To speak what I felt aloud would certainly create unnecessary barriers. It was better to continue on, let my actions show my intent.

She kissed me back, her lips melting into mine. We moved together softly, but the heat between us was scorching. We were a volatile volcano, always just a few minutes away from eruptingand spewing ash everywhere.

I picked up the pace of the kiss and moved my hips into hers, grinding slightly against her. She moaned, and just as she went to grab my hips to pull me tighter against her, I moved away.

Her face was ashen, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched our heavy desires. But I wanted her to want me, wanted her to come to me. I’d just give her a taste and then back off.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, watching as she breathed deeply, trying to recover from our kiss. Her eyes flashed in annoyance, but I knew she wouldn’t vocalize her irritation at my cessation of our kiss. She was too proud to admit she was into me. During the middle of the night when we were wrapped around each other, it was easy for her to think she didn’t have a choice and she was doing what she had to do. But here in the daylight, she didn’t want to confess what I knew was true.

She wanted me. She might hate who I was and what I did, but she wanted me. She wanted my cock inside her, filling her up and making her feel things she never thought were possible.

But she wasn’t going to admit it until she had no choice. But luckily, I could be patient with her. I’d keep her as long as it took.

“Yeah, lunch sounds good,” she stammered, and I enjoyed how off balance she sounded. “What do you have in mind?”

We left the museum and headed for another restaurant I owned. I’d figured it was unwise to hedge all my bets in one enterprise, so I owned several restaurants, bars, clubs, and hotels in both Paris and London. For a quick second I fantasized about taking Ashlynn to a hotel I owned a couple of blocks away, and pressing her into the mattress while I fucked her, but I brushed off the thought. I would have her tonight, at my home, where she was most unlikely to refuse me.

We walked into the restaurant, a casual bistro that was usually pretty busy. As soon as the hostess saw me, she bustled out and cleared a table quickly. Ashlynn followed me to the table,and I pulled out her chair for her.

I sat across from her, drinking in her beauty. I needed to take her out more. During the daylight her cheeks were pink and rosy, her full lips red and inviting. I couldn’t believe I once thought her ordinary. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, and her smile flashed like a lightbulb when she was happy. Compared to the other women around her, she was truly a breath of fresh air. She didn’t put on pretenses, and she said exactly what she was thinking.

“Why are you staring at me?” she questioned, picking up her menu and inspecting it carefully. I loved how much she loved food.

“Because it’s my favorite thing.”

She scoffed, but her neck reddened slightly, and I knew she liked it when I complimented her beauty. She loved to be the object of my fascination, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself.

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