“Do you paint?” I don’t know what compels me to ask, but I’m strangely curious to learn more about her.
She shakes her head, her delicate features framed by loose waves. “A little when I was younger. As I got older, it was hard to find the time.” I think back to what Leo told us about her having to drop out of school to work in her father’s restaurant. “Anyhow, it’s really cool to see a Picasso in person.”
She continues walking when I blurt out. “I curated this collection. These are mostly pieces I choose.”
“Oh.” She turns to face me, biting her bottom lip in a way that makes my cock twitch. “I’m impressed, and maybe a little surprised.”
Pride fills my chest. For a moment, I consider taking her to the top floor gallery where I house my most prized and rare pieces of art, but I stop myself before I unravel like some pubescent kid with hearts in my eyes and a boner in my pants.
“How did you learn about collecting?”
“My mother loved art. Some of this collection is hers, and I expanded on it as I got older.” Despite myself, I keep on talking. “After she was gone, it felt like a way for me to connect with her.” What I don’t add is that collecting art might have been one of the few things that made her truly happy.
Understanding washes over her face, her gaze full of sympathy, and worse, pity. I can handle hatred, scorn, rage, but not fucking pity. I experienced enough of it to last a lifetime after my mother’s suicide. Coming from Georgia, it’s like a hot brand on my skin.
“Let’s go,” I snap, annoyed with myself for caring what she thinks of me. A flash of hurt passes over her face, but I ignore it and continue to walk towards her room. Georgia trails close behind.
Upstairs, I stop in front of her door. Mikhael, one of my loyal guards, is patrolling the hallway. I give him a quick nod to let him know we need a minute and he wanders out of sight.
“Natalia is waiting inside to help prepare you. Listen to her. I will get daily reports about your training, and I expect to be impressed.”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you always so bossy?”
“Are you always such a brat?” My hand twitches to teach her some manners.
“I guess you just bring out the best in me.”
My patience snaps. I advance on her, pressing her back against the wall. I restrain her with a hand on her collarbone. “I hope I do, because if you disappoint me, I’ll punish you.”
Her eyes go wide. “If you hurt me, I won’t help you.”
“Yes, you will. You have no choice. You don’t help me, and I pull my protection from your father.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “I hate you.” She meets my gaze head-on, daring me to react.
My desire to touch her overrules my good sense. My fingers dance up from her collarbone until I’m cupping her jaw, holding her firmly in place. I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know that I can’t resist her anymore.
Frozen, she stares at my mouth. “Who is Kira to you? Is she your girlfriend?”
My lips twitch. “Is that jealousy I detect?”
“As if,” she scoffs, her nostrils flaring.
I make an amused sound from the back of my throat. “No, krasotka, it’s not like that.”
Our verbal sparring is practically foreplay. The air between us is thick and weighted. Her eyes carve a path to my lips, and the way she looks at them makes it clear she wants a taste. And I really want to give her one.
Before she can respond, I dip my head, capturing her mouth with mine. She’s slow to respond, but after a moment her lips part for me, allowing my tongue to sweep in and lay claim to her mouth. She tastes like cinnamon and spice, her flavor as addictive as I feared. I can’t stop. I kiss her until she’s flushed and burning, arching against me, desperate for more.
My hands grope her everywhere; her tits, waist, cupping her luscious ass while I grind my erection into her body. I need to feel all of her. When she moans, I lift her dress and rub her pussy through the silky material of her panties, creating a friction that has her throwing her head back in pleasure. Wetness seeps through the thin material. My little captive is a whore for me.
“More,” she whimpers, her eyes closed.
And fuck, there’s nothing I want more right now than to push aside her panties and stuff her with my fingers, my tongue, and god, my cock, but reality intrudes. Messing with her could put our entire plan at risk, and nothing is worth that.
I yank away abruptly and without explanation. Dropping my hand from her body, Georgia whimpers at the loss of my touch. I’m just as pained by the loss of her heat, needing to adjust the painful hard-on in my pants.
Her eyes flutter open, and she looks at me with a horrified expression. “What did we do?” She throws her hands over her face. “That should never have happened.”