“Make one move and I’ll make sure he’s breathing through a tube for the rest of his life.”
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops. Goosebumps break out across my whole body. But beyond that, a heat begins to swell between my thighs. This can’t be happening. In nineteen years, this has never happened.
I’m actually…getting…aroused.
“Now,” the strapping man says, his voice taut and under absolute control, “I’m going to let him go and you two are going to leave. Understand?”
The two suited men with him nod vigorously.
“Okay!”
“We’re outta here!”
My savior releases their leader, who falls to his knees, clutching his neck and wheezing and coughing. Gasping for breath, he staggers to his feet and rushes over to his men, who help carry him out the gallery into the street. I am now alone with the monstrous man, who has his eyes directly fixed directly on me.
My God. They’re hypnotic and blazing with a fierce intensity I’ve never seen from a man. That darkness is still there, but there’s something else I can’t explain. There’s a brief flash of fear inside me, but it’s gone as quickly as the sound of a finger snap. Replaced by something that draws me to him, makes me want to get closer. But that’s stupid, right? After what I just saw him do to that man?
His shirt clings to his body like a layer of wax on a statue. Every inch of him that I can see is a work of art. I’d put him somewhere in his mid-thirties, and everything about him screams, I don’t belong here. His eyes drag down the entirety of my body, from my breasts to my hips, down my legs and then back up to my lips, which he lingers on for several seconds before returning to my eyes.
If any other man on Earth did this to me, I would feel violated, maybe even unsafe. But as this man licks his lips and cocks his head to the side like he’s thinking, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, that heat between my legs expands like a growing fire. I shift slightly and feel dampness too. My panties are wet. There’s no doubt I’m afraid of this man. I’ve seen his strength and know what he is capable of. But something about that turns me on. My God, does that make me crazy?
“Sorry about the wet.” He grunts.
“I—excuse me?” I know the gallery is empty, but I glance around to be sure before leaning in. “How…how did you know that? I’m wearing pants. You…you can’t see anything, can you?” I look down and examine my crotch area just to be sure. “Do you have some kind of sixth sense or something? You can’t like…smell anything, can you—?”
“I was talking about the peach,” he interrupts, pointing to the half-eaten peach, now lying in the corner.
“Of course you were!” I snort, disguising my embarrassment with a laugh, turning away as I begin to blush. “Oh God…well, I would like to thank you, Mr.…”
“Gage. Call me Gage.”
Of course he wouldn’t have a name like Chris or Jimmy.
“Gage,” I breath, doing my best to ignore the pounding of my heart and the sensation between my legs like melting butter. “My name is Billie. How would you like a tour of the gallery, Gage? This is the Terry Wolf Modern Art Gallery which was founded in…which was founded in…”
At least five seconds go by, and panic sets in. I’ve completely forgotten everything I’m supposed to say.
“Twenty-thirteen,” Gage proclaims. I frown. Confusion scrapes through my skull like a fog. “W-wait, how did you know that? Have you been stalking me? Because I’m not gonna lie, stalking is kind of sexy, but at the same time—”
The next thing I know, I’m being turned around by his strong hands, and he’s pointing to the large information panel behind me hanging on the wall. He was reading from it, and I’ve worked here so long I’ve basically forgotten it’s even there.
“Oh…” I start to say, but my tongue and lips stop working as Gage’s strong, dangerous hand moves down my hip and inward, toward my intimate crux, my heat, where no man has touched me before. “Seems as if I know more about this place than you do, sweet thing.”
Sweet thing? Oh God, I might pass out right now. I’m not even stopping him from moving his hand down my thigh. What’s wrong with me? I can feel his breath on my neck, and instead of stepping away like I should, I actually tilt my hips back into him, eager for more of his touch. I’m losing myself as though I’ve just fallen into a dream or some kind of fantasy. My eyes begin to close. Is this really happening or am I about to wake up back at my desk to realize I’ve just written all of this on my laptop?