“I assume you’re very familiar with being stalked by reporters.” She didn’t move, her heart beating in her throat at the way his arm hadn’t dropped away either.
It was nice. More than nice. When was the last time a man had embraced her?
With the way her life had gone to hell, she hadn’t even thought about dating in quite a while. Perhaps she was only feeling like this because it had been so very long... But something about him felt strangely familiar.
The scent of the night air clung to him, something wild and daring and adventurous. And beneath it all, there was a warm sensuality that seemed to whisper that he would protect her from any storm.
Freedom. It felt like freedom, being held in his arms.
All of a sudden, she saw possibilities opening up again before her.
It wasn’t just the money. But with the money she could pay her rent, and she wouldn’t have to worry for at least a year. She could go out and see a movie with a friend if she wanted. She could paint again. She could even try and date.
But with Gregory so close, all she could think of was the way his body felt against hers.
Was he interested too? Or maybe this was all just in her mind, and this was an everyday occurrence to him. He probably got stalked by reporters wherever he went, and hid in closets all the time, and he probably had beautiful women throw themselves at him...
“Oh,” she gasped when the door rattled again.
Shock had made her jump a little, just as his other arm came forward—and all of a sudden, it was no longer just the heat of his breath she could feel against her cheek.
His lips had brushed her skin, just the smallest bit, but the gentle touch was enough to sizzle through her like lightning.
Another gasp escaped her.
Gregory had frozen. He didn’t push forward, he didn’t claim a kiss, even though all of a sudden, she yearned for it in a way she hadn’t wanted anything or anyone in a long, long time.
Once more she thought of the dragon. She breathed in deeply, inhaled the clean night air that seemed to cling to him, that scent of endless skies and wind. Before her mind, the painting of her dragon rose up, the creature’s eyes lit by a supernatural gleam—and then the dragon’s jaw parted as if in a laugh as it spread its powerful wings, racing off to conquer the skies.
Freedom, Naomi thought, her heart beating wildly. Freedom to follow your dreams. Perhaps... perhaps this is my last chance to dream.
She did not have to fling herself forward like the dragon. Gregory was too close for that. All it took was to turn her head a little and lean forward, and then she felt his lips against her own, hot and surprisingly soft.
A groan escaped Gregory. As if this was all he’d been waiting for, he drew her closer, his arms possessively tight around her as he drew her into a kiss that left her dizzy.
No one had ever kissed her like this.
Her knees went weak. He kissed her gently but demanding, his arms tightening around her until she was fully pressed against him.
It was the most amazing feeling. His muscles were hard against her body. Even through the layers of clothes, she could feel the heat of his skin.
What would it feel like to feel that powerful body slide against her own...?
Something inside her tightened with need, her body already throbbing with arousal. Her nipples were drawn up tight and aching as they brushed against his hard pecs, and still he kissed her until she felt that she was drowning in his embrace, the night wind surrounding them, even though they were still hiding in the tiny closet.
“Sorry,” he whispered when he finally drew back. His voice sounded rough, just as overcome as she felt. “I should have asked first.”
A small laugh escaped Naomi when she realized that he had no reason to apologize. “I think... I was the one who kissed you first.” She blushed a little, glad of the darkness. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His voice was a delicious, reassuring rumble. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you. At first I was only curious because the painting intrigued me—but the moment I saw you I knew you were special.”
His words were like a cold shower. A shiver went through Naomi, and she moved back a fraction. “There’s nothing special about me,” she said, not quite able to hide her bitterness. “I haven’t even painted in a year. I’m your average mediocre starving artist. There are thousands of us. I work in retail; these days I can’t even afford paint for a project, and if I did, I wouldn’t know where to find the time—”
“You just sold a painting,” Gregory reminded her gently. “For a good price.”
“You paid too much. Way too much,” Naomi said quietly.
She was aware that what she was doing was stupid—and she really was in no position to say