Page 74 of The VIP Doubles Down
“You’re talking about Manet’sLe déjeuner sur l’herbe.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her back. “Were you shocked by it, like all the prim art critics of the time?”
“Well, yes. It’s meant to be shocking. But I liked her confidence. She just sat there, looking at whoever was painting her picture, as though there was nothing strange about being naked outdoors with a couple of overdressed men.” Allie cast back to the art history course she had enjoyed more than she expected, trying to remember the painting more clearly. “It’s sexy, too. Like she’s undressed so they can look at her and touch her. I always wondered if the woman in the background was bathing before or after she had sex with the men. It’s clearly a small orgy.” She could feel Gavin shaking against her and tried to twist her head around to see why.
His shout of laughter ricocheted around the confines of the car.
She allowed a smile to curl the corners of her lips. She’d made him laugh when, a half an hour ago, he’d been at the bottom of an abyss of despair.
“A small orgy,” he stuttered between chuckles. “Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
“Not to my mind.”
His lips brushed her bare shoulder. “You are so good for me, my flame-haired sprite.”
“Yourwhat?”
“Have I never said that out loud before? That’s how I think of you.”
She liked the flame-haired part, even though it was way too poetic for her carrot-top. “A sprite? What do you mean by that, exactly?”
“A small creature with magical powers.Mightymagical powers.”
“Okay. I’ll take it.” Lulled by the heat of his body, the satiation of her own, and the coziness of the car, her eyelids drifted closed.
“Allie.”
She came awake with a start, staring around in confusion for a second before she registered the solid wall of Gavin’s body against her back.
“Could we go back to your house tonight?” he asked, his voice strained. “I don’t want to face Hugh just yet.”
“Pie would love to see you again,” she said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp to reach for her bra. “There’s nothing she likes to sleep on more than Armani.”
His grip tightened. “You don’t have to move yet. It felt good to have you go loose and relaxed in my arms.”
“So you weren’t insulted?” Allie snagged her shirt and the bra tangled with it.
“Sleep is something to be treasured when you can’t have it.”
“We can sleep at my house in a nice soft bed. Not that I don’t love leather against my skin.” She twisted to give him a teasing smile.
“You’re giving me ideas.”
“Isn’t that what a muse is supposed to do?”
He kissed her shoulder again and let her sit up, tracing his finger down her spine before he shoved himself upright.
She quickly shimmied back into her clothing, even as she felt the weight of his gaze on her. As soon as she was decent, he swung the door open, offering her a hand as she scrambled out.
“Oh. My. God,” she said, letting her mouth drop open while she looked around the garage.
The floor was red brick, the walls were white brick, and the ceiling was white brick formed into vaults like a medieval church, from which hung a huge stainless-steel-and-glass chandelier. Six cars in various sleek shapes were arrayed around the space, their highly polished metal skins gleaming in the light. In the wall facing her were two arches, one with a brushed-steel door large enough for a car to pass through, and the other with a human-size door of the same metal.
“Are all these cars yours?” she asked.
“Remember my antique-collecting phase? I went through a car-collecting phase, too.” He leaned his hip against the Bentley. “Pick a car, any car.”
She surveyed the selection and decided the Maserati looked the most like a normal vehicle. “The Maz.”
“My personal favorite, but you’ve experienced that one. Why not the Ferrari or the Lamborghini?”
