Kiss Me Book 1 Page 2

  “Well, now that we both think the other is beautiful, why don’t you let me show you something,” he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her through the crowd. They came to a stop in front of two giant bay doors when she pulled her hand out of his.

  “You’re crazy if you think I am going in there with you,” she said and backed away.

  “But you think I’m hot. Would a hot guy try to hurt you?”

  “Okay really? You’re starting to play the hot guy thing out already and it’s only been like two minutes.”

  “I know, but it’s fun. C’mon, I promise nothing will happen, and, when you tell me to stop, I promise, I’ll stop.” He gave her a wickedly sexy smile.

  “Are you always so juvenile?”

  “Are you always such a prude?” he shot back.

  She frowned at the term her sister used and squared her shoulders. “I’m not a prude,” she said as she stepped through the doors and into the darkness.

  The overhead lights flicked on, and she was then led to a large object in the center of the room that was covered with a sheet. Welding tools were neatly arranged at the base. He pulled away the sheet and she gasped. It was a beautiful rendering of a Minotaur; however, her gaze was pulled to something just off to the side.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked as she walked around and stopped in front of a two familiar looking statues.

  “Ummm, I . . .” he said as he raked his hands anxiously through his hair.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked firmly, pointing to the pieces in question.

  “Someone sold them to me, and they were supposed to go on the floor tonight, but I didn’t have time to get them ready.”

  She snorted. “Someone sold those to you?”

  He looked at her, confused by her sudden coldness. “Yeah, a guy came in last week and asked me what I would give for them.”

  “Ha, likely story,” Amy said as she backed toward the doors.

  “Amy? What is going on?”

  “You’re a thief, and you’ll be hearing from the cops and my attorney before this night is finished.”

  Christian’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Now, wait a minute, lady. You have some nerve showing up to my party and start throwing around crazy accusations.” His nostrils flared and his jaws clenched together.

  “And let me guess, the rest of this art, those pieces out there, someone sold you those too?”

  “Are you accusing me of something?” he said.

  “I’m calling you a fraud,” she snapped.

  “A fraud? Are you kidding me? On what grounds.”

  She turned before going back into the party. “Because, Mr. Daniels, those pieces over there are one of a kind pieces. I know that because they are mine. I made those, and last week they were stolen from me.” She snorted and leveled a cold glare at him. “And now I know who stole them.”

  Christian watched as the beautiful blond stormed out of his loft, confused by what had happened. Walking over to the art she claimed had been hers, he lifted the sculpture and inspected the back. On the bottom was carved the initials A. J. He’d assumed it had belonged to the man who had brought them in.

  At first he hadn’t been interested in the pieces, but upon looking at them further he’d found them intriguing. He’d never believed for one second that a masterpiece could come from a woman as beautiful as the one he just saw. He knew there was something very wrong with the situation.

  ***

  For the next couple of days Amy was on pins and needles. After calling the police, she’d found out that Christian Daniels had been taken downtown for questioning the night of his party. As it happened, hers wasn’t the only pieces of stolen art in his gallery. There were at least three other pieces. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough to tie Christian to the robberies, so his lawyer had gotten him off the hook.

  “Look, Ms. Jackson,” Officer Billy said through the receiver, “there’s nothing that can be done. We couldn’t find any evidence against Mr. Daniels. As it happened, the man who sold him the other pieces was already apprehended and turned over to our custody. We got a confession and everything.”

  “And what about my pieces?”

  He sighed heavily into the phone. “There is nothing that can tie him to your house the night of the break-in. He has an airtight alibi and until the other night had no idea who you were.”

  “But how did he get my pieces?”

  Officer Billy’s patience was wearing very thin. “Listen, we are doing everything we can to help find the man responsible. Until then, sit tight and we will let you know if we get any further news. Good afternoon.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, and she placed the phone back on the cradle, hanging up. She looked around her house. She and Robert had bought it together when she’d turned twenty-five. Now, seven years later, she found it somewhat gaudy and a little bit over the top with its winding staircase, vaulted ceilings, and crystal chandeliers. She’d won the house and a hefty settlement of two million dollars in the divorce, but somehow she felt like she’d gotten the raw end of the deal.

  She sat on the couch and stared at the place where her beloved statue used to sit. It, along with the others, were really the only things she had from before she and Robert had met.

  Feeling cooped up, she slid on her flip-flops and marched across the lawn to her car. She’d be damned if she let some hack artist keep her stuff. Spinning her tires, she hastily made her way to the gallery.

  In the light of day, the structure was ominous, but she didn’t let that stop her. She jumped out of her car and marched her way up the sidewalk to a large black door. She lifted her hand to knock but thought better of it. She gave the door a swift tug and it came open easily, nearly sending her sprawling on her backside into the yard.

  When she stepped inside, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior. There were people milling around the exhibits as well as a few employees talking to the customers. She looked for Christian but found him nowhere in sight.

  “Good afternoon, Miss. Can I help you with something?” a young blonde girl asked.

  “Where is Mr. Daniels? I need to speak with him at once,” she demanded.

  “I . . . um, Mr. Daniels asked not to be disturbed today. He is in his studio,” the girl sputtered.

  “And that would be where?”

  The girl pointed to the doors where she’d been a few nights ago. She didn’t wait for further instructions before hitching the strap of her purse over her shoulder and marching back to the bay doors.

  She pulled them open and stepped inside. Immediately she was greeted by the lyrics of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” screaming at her through hidden speakers. The giant metal sculpture in the center was still covered, but she didn’t see Christian anywhere.

  Her eyes darted to the landing above her. She found metal steps and marched up them, but when she reached the top there was nothing on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw. She nearly missed the top step.

  Christian was wearing a pair of paint-stained jeans, dangerously similar to the ones from the night of the opening, and nothing more. His blond hair was tied loosely behind his head. She watched as his muscles flexed as he pulled a giant paintbrush over a canvas that stood at least eight feet tall. Green paint was smeared over his left bicep. A tattoo was on his rib cage near where the deeply cut V of his waist disappeared into his jeans. His feet were completely bare—and holy shit if he didn’t have the sexiest feet she’d ever seen in her life.

  Get it together, her mind screamed. She was trying to, but she couldn’t ever recall seeing a man that sinfully sexy in all her life.

  All thoughts of why she’d originally come to see him left her mind as he worked. The air seemed to grow thinner, and a dull ache began to throb between her legs. What in the hell? She thought. Her nipples tightened and strained against her thin shirt. The cotton of her bra scraping against the sensitive skin made her uncomfortable—but not in an en
tirely unpleasant way.

  “You’re staring at me?” he said through the lustful haze that had taken over her mind.

  When she looked up at him, he was still staring straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration. Finally he turned and threw the brush to a table covered with paint, jars of murky waters and paper towels.

  “I—I am not,” she sputtered lamely.

  “You were, but something tells me that you didn’t come here just to stare at my body, though I will say, someone as beautiful as you is more than welcome to stare all she wants,” he said as he put his hands on his hips and turned to face her completely.

  Her eyes dropped to his chest on their own, and no matter how much she wanted them to stay on his face it wasn’t going to happen. Smooth lines and rugged planes made up his chest. His abs were stacked on top of each other tightly as his jeans sat low on his lean hips.

  Shit, she thought. Look away, look away. Quickly she adverted her eyes and tried to focus on anything but him.

  “I want my stuff back,” she said, focusing on a point just above his shoulder.

  He laughed and grabbed another brush from the table. “No,” he said before swirling it in different shades of paint. Turning, he pressed it against the canvas and began all over again.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  He turned his head and looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not used to being told no, are you, princess?”

  She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I want my things back,” she retorted hotly.

  “And I want back the business I lost because of the stunt you pulled the night of my opening. Do you know how much money I lost because of you? Do you know what that shit did to my reputation? Being accused of being a fraud and art thief could have done damage which couldn’t have been fixed.” There was no malice in his voice; in fact his tone was light, almost carefree. She was confused.

  “This is about money?” She dug around in her bag and pulled out her checkbook. “How much did I cost you? I’ll give you the money right now.”

  He laughed and put down the brush. After wiping his hands on his jeans, he took a few steps toward her. “It’s not about the money,” he said.

  “My home was broken into, violated, and precious stuff was stolen, stuff that you supposedly bought, and all you care about it your reputation?” Her anger was quickly rising at his arrogance. However, that wasn’t the only thing happening to her. Something about the way he was staring at her with a smug smile, goading her, was turning her on. You’re getting turned on because you’re angry at him, her mind shouted at her.

  “Tell me something. Why did you stop making art?”

  Amy frowned, puzzled by his abrupt change of subject. “How does that have anything to do with this? I don’t see how that matters or why it is any of your business.”

  “It was a simple question.”

  “One that I will not be answering.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself, but you’re still not getting your stuff back.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Christian turned amused eyes to her. “You seriously look like you’re one tantrum away from stomping your foot and screaming.”

  She frowned at him, clutching her hands at her sides she itched to slap that arrogant smug look right off his face. After taking a few calming breaths, she sighed. “Fine. Whatever it takes to get my belongings back, I will do it. Just name your price.”

  “Now we’re talking,” he said as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them anxiously.

  Something about the dangerous look in his eyes told her that she could have possibly just made a deal with the devil himself.

  She gulped when Christian slowly made his way to her, stopping just inches in front of her. Slowly, he allowed his hand to lightly run down her arm. Her breath hitched in her throat as she fought for air. She felt his hand rest on her hip and his fingers slide into the hip pocket on her jeans. There was nothing she could do but stand and breathe him in.

  “W-what are you doing?” she stammered.

  “I need your phone,” he said, his voice low and seductive. His warm breath pushed out against the top of her head. She felt the tips of his fingers graze against the skin above her jeans as he pulled the phone out of her pocket.

  “H-how did you know my phone was in there?” she stammered. Distance: she needed to put distance between them. However, if she took a step back she would fall down two flights of stairs. If she moved forward it would put her completely against him.

  And this would be a bad thing why? her subconscious chimed in.

  “It was sticking out,” he said as he took a step back.

  He looked down at the screen and punched in a few numbers before handing it back to her. “Now you have my number and I have yours. I’ll be in contact when it comes time to pay your debt,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  With a clear dismissal, he went back to work painting. As she was turning to leave, a large object in the corner of the room caught her attention. Her eyes grew round. It was a bed, an enormous black bed with black sheets and a black comforter thrown aside. There was something attached to the headboard but she couldn’t be sure what they were. From where she stood, it appeared to be handcuffs.

  She swallowed past the lump and hurried down the steps. It wasn’t until she was sitting in the front seat of her car that she let out a pent-up breath. What in the hell had she been thinking, offering anything he wanted to get her things back? She must have been out of her mind.

  Christian watched over the rail as Amy made her way down the stairs. Her beautifully rounded ass twitched from left to right with each step she took. It was obvious the woman had absolutely no clue how fucking beautiful she was.

  From the moment he’d seen her at his party, dressed to kill in that amazing black dress, he knew he had to know her. He just didn’t expect her to have him arrested on art theft and fraud charges, all of which were bogus to begin with. Even though his grand opening had been ruined, it had done nothing to dampen his desire. He had to know her. She was a beautiful little spitfire, and he’d have one hell of a time trying to tame her. However, the more he thought about it, the more he decided he didn’t really want to tame her. He wondered what it would be like to let her go and see what kind of damage she could do. His dick twitched at the thought and he groaned.

  He’d done his research on Ms. Amy Jackson. She was the hottest interior designer in all of San Francisco. She was highly sought after, and some of her clients were some real A-listers. Rather impressive.

  While she had a name for herself, she really wasn’t one to flaunt. The night of his gallery opening, she’d seemed like she was out of place, almost uncomfortable, even though she was the most beautiful woman in the room.

  No, there was definitely a mystery behind the woman. Christian licked his lips and looked over his shoulder at one of her paintings hanging in the back corner of his loft. It was a small miracle she hadn’t seen it, but from the minute he’d laid eyes on the piece, he’d known instantly he needed to know who the artist was. Now he knew.

  ***

  Her breaths were coming out in short, heavy pants as her bare skin kissed the satin sheets beneath her, their coolness like a balm against her burning body. Hands roamed over her skin, igniting new fires with each touch.

  She watched as he rose above her, clasping her by the knees and gently spreading her legs wider. His warm breath reached out and caressed her dampened folds and a soft moan escaped her lips. Her eyes rolled closed as she felt him tease her opening with his fingers, just before plunging his cock deep inside her. Crying out, she arched from the bed as he began to ride her.

  Harder and harder he thrust. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him through the pounding in her ears. Her pussy was soaking wet as his dick was crammed deeper inside of her.

  She was going to explode; her body was tingling. Her head was buzzing l
oudly. She frowned, trying to figure out where the annoying sound was coming from. Through lust-filled eyes she tried to find the source but couldn’t. Just as he thrust home, her body flew from the bed.

  Amy sat up, drenched in sweat, tangled in the sheets. Her panties were soaked with evidence from her dream. Her breathing was ragged as she clutched the sheet around her.

  “What the hell?” she gasped, disappointed at being woken up right before the best part. She hadn’t talked to Christian in over a week and yet every night it was the same thing. They were tangled together in his big black bed and, right as she was about to come, she would wake up. She’d never had much need to use her fingers in the past; however, the past several nights, it had been the only way to ease the ache that had been created in her dreams.

  With another frustrated sigh she lay back against her pillows. Allowing her knees to fall to the side she slipped her finger into her panties and parted her wet folds. She wasn’t surprised to find herself dripping. She dipped her fingers into her moisture and brought them up to circle her clit. As she stroked her pussy, she slid her free hand under her shirt and palmed her right breast. Roughly, she tugged on her nipple as she dipped her fingers in and out of her wet slit. As she stroked herself she pictured him. She was on the verge of coming once more when a buzzing sound disrupted her, again.

  “What the fuck,” she cried out in frustration.

  Scrambling out of bed she squinted at the bright screen. Her heart gave a little flop. “Christian,” she muttered.

  Trying to steady her racing heart, she took several deep breaths before she answered.

  “Hello?” she said, slightly breathless.

  “Why so breathless, princess?” Christian growled in her ear.

  “I was . . . um, working out,” she lied.

  “At one in the morning?” he said skeptically.

  “Christian, what in the hell do you want?” she said, not answering his question.

  He was silent for a long moment before he finally answered. “A payment, though it sounds like you may have already started.”