He smiles a very proud smile. “I’m happy here.”
I pull out of his grip and clasp my hands in front of me as I walk around, looking at everything. The back wall of the huge lounge room is covered in black and white photographs. The floors are all dark, wide, timber floorboards, and the decorating has an antique sort of minimalistic vibe. The four-piece huge lounge is dark leather, and a fireplace is in the center of the room, complete with a mantle. Large palm trees in huge pots give it an old Hollywood feel.
My eyes meet his. I’m in absolute shock. This is stupid rich and it looks like it belongs on a movie set, not the house of someone I know.
He sits still, watching me. “You can look around if you like.”
I walk over to a door in between the kitchen and lounge room, and turn the knob. It’s locked.
“What’s in there?”
“The cellar.”
I frown. “Why is it locked?”
“I keep all of my photography equipment down there. I keep it locked in case I ever get broken into to.”
“Oh. What’s upstairs?”
He smiles broadly and I can tell he’s loving my reaction to his home. “Upstairs is upstairs.” He smirks. He stands and grabs my hand, leading me upstairs as I look around in awe. We walk slowly up the wide staircase and down the hall. My eyes stare up at the ornate ceilings that are all at least twelve feet high. “This is my room.” He holds his hand out and lets me enter the room first.
My eyes widen. “Oh,” I whisper. “It’s...” I hesitate. I have no words for this. “It’s like a movie.”
A large four-poster, dark timber bed with different chocolate shades of velvet bed coverings sits in the middle of a rich antique tapestry carpet. A large, black leather wingback chair sits in the corner. And against the back wall is a doorway though to a modern large bathroom and walk-in wardrobe. This is luxury—sheer luxury—and straight out of a magazine. There isn’t a thing out of place in here and my eyes seek him out. “It’s so neat.” I smirk.
He smiles cheekily and raises a brow. “I like neat.”
A huge smile covers my face. “I like messy.”
What must he think when he comes to my bedroom?
He smirks. “I know.”
There is a huge painting above the bed of a naked woman.
My eyes are drawn to the picture. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper in awe. The sun is shining down on her from above, through a window, and she has long, wavy, chocolate hair that covers her breasts. She is lying down naked on a bed similar to the one she lays above. Her cream knitted blankets are strategically placed to be draping around her. She is staring at the artist sexily.
Alastar’s eyes linger on the painting and he smiles softly. “Aye, that she is.”
I look between him and the painting as he gazes at it adoringly. Oh no, does he know this woman? “Do you know her?” I frown.
He shakes his head. “No, this picture is very, very old.”
I smile a grateful smile. Thank frigging God he doesn’t know her. I can’t compete with that shit. That woman is sex on legs. I put my hand on my chest in relief.
“Do you know who she is?” he asks as he gazes up at her.
I look up to the painting. “Is she someone famous?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Hmm, should I know her? Am I going to sound dumb if I say no? I try my hardest to think who she might be. Damn, I got nothing.
“No, I don’t know who she is.”
His eyes hold mine and with a soft smile he seemingly changes the subject. “It’s very nice to have you in my bedroom, Emmaline.”
It’s there again, the electric current running between us, whispering in my ear how badly I want this man—how badly my body wants to please him.
Once again, I wait for instruction as my chest constricts. I desperately want to kiss him. But I wait, unsure what it is he wants from this date of ours tonight. He hasn’t touched me yet. Maybe he’s over his infatuation already?
“What would you like to do?” he asks seductively.
Oh, I know what I want to do. “I want to do whatever you want to do.” I breathe as, once again, my stupid heart nearly fails me.
He smirks. “You want to do whatever I want to do?” He raises a sexy brow in question.
I nod, unable to peel my eyes away from his.
“I would like to watch you take a shower.”
My eyes widen. What?
Dear, God, not that.
“Ahh…” I hesitate. He has never really seen me naked before. I mean, we are naked at my house, but it is always in the dark or in a semi-lit room. Watching me take a shower seems way more intimate than having sex.
“What’s the problem?” he breathes in his velvety, seductive voice.
“Are you going to get in with me?” I nervously ask.
His eyes hold mine and he softly shakes his head. “No. I just want to watch you.”
Holy fuck, I’m totally screwed. When he really sees my body, he will probably run for the hills.
“That’s a weird request,” I whisper.
A trace of a smile crosses his face. “I’m a weird man.”