Page 32 of Feels Like Love

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“Mandatory?” She walked over to the painting, her gaze sweeping across it. “I don’t know about that, but I do wonder what his story was. What do you think? Was he an off-with-the-head guy or one revered by the people?”

“I think he tragically went on to get in an accident that ended with his top half fused with the horse’s bottom half.”

Isabella’s questioning eyes came up to mine, but she laughed and, instead of asking me why I’d chosen that fate for the poor man, embellished on my story. “Unable to come back to his castle, he roamed the forests in search of those who wanted to harm the village he’d been entrusted with. He became the ultimate defender, a hero of mythical proportions whose spirit still protects the city.”

I rubbed my jaw with my thumb and forefinger, squinting up at the painting. “He’s a hero, huh? Could be. I’m more on the side of him being an anti-hero.”

“An anti-hero?” She chuckled, shifting on her feet to face me. “Is that how you see yourself? As an anti-hero? There was something in your voice when you said it that makes me think that you might fancy yourself as one.”

“Fancy myself as one?” I echoed, pinching my lips together in false disapproval. “I thought we’d moved past the formal language. Relieving ourselves and all that.”

“You’re not distracting me from the question,” she said, her features alive with barely suppressed laughter. “Do you think you’re an anti-hero?”

“Maybe?” I shrugged. “A lot of my thoughts lack conventional heroic qualities, like morality, but I’m no villain either, so I could be an anti-hero instead.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I frowned. “Like whatwhat?”

“Like what do you think about that lacks morality?”

“Yeah. No.” I gave my head a firm shake and moved to the next painting. “I’m not telling you that, but I do think this woman had a side hustle as a court jester. Either that, or the artist didn’t like her and made her look like a clown on purpose.”

Isabella didn’t respond right away, obviously still stuck on what my impure thoughts could be about, but eventually, she turned to the painting as well. “The artist definitely didn’t like her. No one’s cheeks or lips are that red and her eye shadow definitely wouldn’t have been violet. I think he made her look that way because she broke his heart and he wanted everyone to know for the rest of time that she was a clown for not seeing what was right in front of her.”

“She could also have been a prostitute.” I dodged Izabella’s hand when it came shooting out to smack my arm. “What? That neckline was scandalous in those days.”

“Do you seriously believe that any woman with scandalous clothing on has to be a prostitute?” she asked, taken aback.

I grinned. “No, but it’s a fun story to think about. The countess or whatever title she had, roaming the streets at night, seducing innocent young men with that heaving bosom.”

“Now who’s using formal terminology?” She rolled her eyes and smiled again. “Heaving bosom? I would’ve taken you for a ‘tits’ man.”

“Oh, so you’re comfortable saying ‘tits’ but not ‘pee’? That’s an unexpected twist.”

She shrugged one of her shoulders. Her smile widened and she arched a brow at me. “I wouldn’t have been comfortable saying it a few days ago, but you’ve obviously rubbed off on me.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” I teased. “In fact, I’ve been on my best behavior. I haven’t rubbed off at all.”

That rosy glow crept onto her cheeks again, like it always did when I made any kind of sexual reference, but this time, she didn’t even pretend not to like it. In fact, I had a suspicion she enjoyed my naughty banter more than she would ever admit. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Is that what your immoral thoughts have been about?” she asked, gaze latching onto mine. Unless I was very much mistaken, there was almost as much heat in it as there was in her cheeks. “Rubbing offon me, the sleeping girl beside you?”

I didn’t even try to look away, too curious about how she would react if I told her the truth. “Yes, actually. If you must know, that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about. Except that in my thoughts, you weren’t sleeping. You were very much awake.”

“Was I?” she mused softly, tilting her head back slightly to look up at me. “What was I doing while I was so very much awake?”

I groaned. “How much of that Italian wine did you have, Bella?”

“Not much.” She inched closer to me. It was just one inch, but I sure as fuck noticed it. “I’ve had two or three glasses the whole day, and I’ve eaten a lot in between. I’m not drunk, Parker. Not even close.”

“Then why are we talking about this?”

She kept her eyes on mine, searching as her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she spoke again. “We’re talking about it because I want to know.”

I cocked my head, taking a deliberate step toward her, so close to her now that I caught a whiff of the sweet scent of her perfume when I inhaled. The air between us was crackling with electricity again, but this time, she would remember it tomorrow.

Which meant that I could kiss her if the opportunity presented itself. It looked like it was on its way to do just that. “Why do you want to know, Isabella? What could you possibly need that information for?”

“Interest,” she said, her voice breathy but her expression too indecisive to act yet. “I’m interested in knowing what you’ve been thinking about me.”

“You really want to know?”

She nodded, definitely seeming sure.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” I walked toward her, backing her up until she was caged between me and the wall. I let my forearms rest against it beside her head, my gaze intent on hers as I gauged her reactions. “I’ve been thinking about what you’d look like naked on top of me, bouncing on my cock while you scream my name so loud the whole fucking castle would hear you. Is that what you want to know? Interesting enough for you, or do you want me to go on?”

I had her. Every word I said wiped more of the indecision from her features. I would’ve kissed her already, but ultimately, the ball was in her court. I would make the moves, but she had to want me to make them. All I was waiting for was some sign from her that it was what she wanted, and when I got that sign, it would be all systems fucking go.


Tags: Weston Parker Romance