Page 74 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
Maybe I couldn’t have her forever, but as long as I did, I intended to make the time count.
I started to move, keeping my body low and pressed against hers, the way I knew she liked it.
She wanted to feel as much of me as possible, and that’s what I wanted too. Skin against skin, our faces aligned, our bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.
Slowly and steadily, pushing deeper with each stroke, I let the friction build then gradually increased the speed and pressure, guiding her toward another crest of pleasure.
When she reached it, gasping and saying my name, it took me about oh-point-two-five seconds to join her.
Afterward we lay together, both breathing hard. I pulled Scarlett against me, loving the feel of her softness and the spill of her silky hair over my shoulder and arm and the warmth of her bare skin against mine.
Inksy was about to strike again somewhere soon, and mamas better cover their little ones’ eyes, because I was feelinginspired.
Scarlett traced the tattoos on my chest and right shoulder, moving down my arm to the newer ink on my forearm.
“What’s this one about?” she asked, scratching lightly over an image of a woman’s eyes.
They were her exact shape and shade of blue, which if I’d known I was ever going to see her again in person, I might not have been brave enough to choose.
“I think you know,” I murmured into her hair then kissed the top of her head.
“Really? This is me?” she asked, sounding amazed.
“You have pretty eyes,” I said, telling the truth but minimizing it.
“These are prettier than mine,” she said. “You really are talented, Gray. You sort of blew me off when I said before that you should pursue art professionally, but I mean it—you’re almost as good as Inksy.”
I had to suppress a snort of laughter.Almost?
“That’s high praise,” I said.
“You’re laughing at me, but I’m being serious, Gray.”
I stroked her hair and ran my hand down her back, planting a kiss on her forehead then her lips when she tilted her face up to give me access.
“I’m not laughing at you. Thank you for saying that. But as I told you before, art reveals things about the artist’s deepest thoughts. I’m sure you saw it in the drawing I did of you last night.”
She nodded, her silky cheek moving against my chest. “Ilikedwhat I saw.”
“So did I,” I said in the most lecherous tone I could manage.
She tugged at my chest hair.
“Ow.” I laughed, and she kissed the stinging place. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share what’s in my brain with the world at large.”
“Use a pseudonym,” she suggested innocently. “Like Inksy does.”
That caused a different kind of sting—one to my conscience. I’d always felt completely justified in keeping my alter ego a secret.
But now, with Scarlett, not telling her was starting to feel like lying.
The thing was, she was only interested in a fling. I wanted more. I wanted her to stay, but as far as I knew she would be leaving in a week or two, and we’d never see each other again.
And unless I was certain she was in it for the long haul, how could I trust her with my secret? If it got out, my life would never be the same. I’d be at the center of a publicity nightmare, just like I’d been during my commanding officer’s trial.
The last thing I wanted was to be “famous” again.
So I passed up yet another opportunity to come clean with her. Instead, I pointed at a painting on the wall directly opposite Scarlett’s bed. It wasConfluence, the painting I’d given Victoria—the one that had hung in her gallery.
