Page 10 of The Collector's Temptation

“As you should.”

We drove in silence for a while, the tension between us simmering, until we pulled up to a nondescript building tucked behind a line of trees. He guided me inside, through a minimalist lobby and into a private elevator. The doors opened into a gallery space bathed in soft golden light. The walls were adorned with art that took my breath away.

“This is amazing,” I breathed.

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

His hand was at the small of my back, steadying me as I turned in a slow circle to take everything in. “You were right.”

“These pieces belong to private collectors, most of whom you’d recognize. Vellum & Vine manages the curation, and I sometimes bring special guests here.”

“Is that what I am, a special guest?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. “You're the only one,miette.”

Once again, there was an unexpected weight to his words. A depth that sent those darn butterflies swirling again because they spoke to my heart. “Then show me what you’ve got.”

He guided me toward a painting encased in a climate-controlled display. The lighting illuminated every detail—the cracking varnish and the burnished glow of oil aged to perfection.

“This is an original Veronese,” I whispered, stunned.

“Untouched by public eyes for over sixty years,” he confirmed. “The collector who owns it trusts me implicitly. As I hope you will.”

His words wrapped around me like silk, the room suddenly warmer, the space between us too charged to ignore. When I turned toward him, he watched me with that same restrained hunger I remembered from the gala. The heat in his gray orbs sparked an unfamiliar warmth deep in my belly.

“Aston…”

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice a rasp of temptation.

I couldn't. Not when I desperately wanted him to kiss me. “Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

“Just remember that I tried to stop,” he warned, his hand pressing against my lower back, just above the curve of my butt.

I twined my arms around his neck. “I won’t forget a moment of tonight. Not ever.”

His lips brushed mine, the kiss a whisper at first. A promise of more to come. Then his hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss until the world narrowed to the feel of his mouth and the firm press of his body.

We were surrounded by priceless art that I normally would have given my left arm to peruse at my leisure, but the man holding me was the only thing that mattered. My awareness had narrowed to Aston. My entire focus was on him and the kiss he was giving me.

It was my first beyond a simple peck, but even I could tell this wasn’t a simple kiss. Aston didn’t rush, his lips sliding against mine in a slow and thorough exploration as though he meant to learn every inch of me with his mouth and tongue.

When we finally broke apart, my knees were so weak that I had to cling to his shoulders in order to remain upright. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my wits about me if you keep kissing me like that.”

He smiled, wicked and unrepentant. “Bien.”

5

ASTON

Ichecked my watch for the fourth time.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Rafa. He never missed anything. His stare was the kind that made most men squirm—or run.

“Somewhere else you need to be, Aston?” he asked, voice even and unreadable.

Rafa was a master of that—masking every emotion behind a wall of ice. One of the many reasons he made a damn good Mafia underboss. With his wife or other people he was extremely close to, he could be soft, funny, and almost normal. But with the rest of the world? Ruthless. Efficient. The kind of man who didn’t waste time on warnings.

I wasn’t stupid enough to lie to him. “I have a date.”

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