Page 54 of Dangerous Passion

November 22

Grace setup in the library. God knows there was enough room for her.

The light streaming in through a whole wall of floor to ceiling windows put her own small skylight to shame. Drake’s home was an environment she found conducive to work. Some invisible hand always lit a fire for her. The room was beautiful and utterly quiet. No one disturbed her. When she remembered to eat, there was always a trolley outside the door with delicious food.

She worked like a woman possessed. The violence of the attack at Harold’s gallery, the burning flare of sexual heat between her and Drake, the blossoming of tender feelings for him—all these things made their way from her soul through her fingers on to canvas.

She lost herself totally in her work, at times stopping when she noticed her back aching, to discover she’d been painting for eight solid hours.

Drake secluded himself in his study all day, doing whatever mysterious things he did. The day before, an elderly man had come and with quiet efficiency set up a makeshift, yet highly professional, photographic studio where she was working. He had a selection of wigs and glasses and was very adept at make up. He must have taken 100 photographs of her, in every possible permutation, some where she barely recognized herself. Blonde Grace, brunette Grace, old Grace, studious Grace, slutty Grace…

Drake sat watching, impassive, as she changed personas,then quietly walked out the door with the man and didn’t come back to her until nightfall.

Each evening, he apologized for spending time away from her until she finally had to put her finger over his mouth and tell him to hush.

The truth was, she didn’t mind spending time alone. She was used to it, used to being able to dedicate herself wholeheartedly to her painting without distractions. And Drake was a huge distraction, in every way.

When he came to her, he filled her entire mental horizon. Everything was forgotten in his presence, as if he were this huge magnet that pulled everything in her to him.

The sex was almost frighteningly intense. She’d dreamed about someday finding a man she could be with, but in her daydreams, sex wasn’t that much a part of it. Truth was, the daydreams were puerile, like toothpaste ads, two people running in slow motion towards each other in a sunny field. Nothing like the dark, powerful, frightening, almost visceral tug between her and Drake. The sex in her fantasy—like those movie trailers for all ages—was bland and pleasant. Utterly unlike the mind-altering experience it was with Drake. Something that turned her inside out, turned her into a woman she barely recognized.

As if her thoughts of him had conjured him up out of thin air, there was a sharp knock on the door, and Drake looked in.

She put her brush in a solvent can and wiped her hands on a cloth, realizing that the palms had turned damp the instant she saw him. “Hi,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer, just walked to her. No, that wasn’t quite true. He didn’t walk, heflowed.

Grace, strength, power, it was all there in the strides. And it was totally subconscious. She had no doubt that when he wanted to intimidate, he’d be a master at it. His body, his entire being exuded power and an ability to erupt into devastating violence at a split second’s notice.

But he wasn’t trying to intimidate her in any way. His walk to her was simply the walk of a powerful animal in its prime, moving towards something it wanted.

Her.

It was right there in the gleam in his dark eyes that never once looked away from her face, in his ground-eating strides, the intensity that surrounded him like an almost visible aura. He was even smiling as he took her elbow and sat them down on the couch in front of the fireplace, lifting her hand to his mouth. He meant the smile, but it somehow looked unnatural on that hard, sombre face.

He kissed the palm of her hand and curled her hand in his fist. “I have some things to see to, but I don’t want to stay away from you too long. Will you wait here for me? I love the thought of coming back to you here, right here, surrounded by your paintings. As a matter of fact, I thought maybe we could eat lunch in here.”

As if she could refuse him anything. That strength wasn’t just physical. His will was like a force field around him, almost shimmering in its intensity.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll wait here for you, if it pleases you.” She reached out with her hand to touch his wounded shoulder. “You’re not overdoing it? You shouldn’t be resting?”

Just like that, like throwing a switch, his aura changed. Became pure, animal sex. Those dark eyes gleamed, thin nostrils flared. She felt it on her skin, as if an electrical charge had washed over it, striking sparks where he touched her.

He leaned forward to kiss her on the neck, lips warm, breath hot. As he spoke, she could feel his lips moving. “My beautiful Grace. I am fine. Please do not worry about me. I do not need rest, I need something else. When I come back, I’ll show you exactly what I need. In the meantime…” He nipped her earlobe and a shudder went through her body. He took her hand and lay it over his groin.

My God. He was huge, so hot the warmth punched through even the tough fabric of his jeans. He slowly licked her ear and her breath came out in a shaky rush.

This must be life’s payback for having been so indifferent to sex all her life. She’d been like a locked door and it turned out that only this one man had the key. His mouth on her neck gave her goosebumps, made her back arch, giving him access to more of her.

As he licked her, dragging his teeth over her skin, her hand tightened around his penis. She wasn’t the only one affected by his mouth on her. Impossibly, as she ran her hand up the amazing length, his penis moved, thickened, lengthened even more. When she cupped her hand around the bulbous tip, discernible even through the jeans, his breath came out in an explosive rush of air that ruffled her hair.

“God,” he breathed. His big hand covered hers, trapping her hand over him. It wasn’t actually trapped, though. Her hand was more than happy to stay right where it was, feeling him moving beneath her. It was like touching a primeval source of energy. Strength, power, male potency. Her hand burned as the surges of blood rushed through him.

Each jump in her hand was met with a clenching of her internal muscles, an elaborate sexual dance she only did with Drake.

He licked her ear again, breathing slow and hard. His deep voice was low. “I need togo right now, or I won’t go at all. I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to. But when I come back, I want you to remember what you’re feeling now.”

As if she could forget.

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