“Of course it is,” Alex insisted. “I’ll keep my identity undercover the whole time. It should be relatively easy. Besides, it’s only for three weeks, until the appraisal.”
Part of her wanted to help the children, and part of her wanted to remain with Henry a little longer. Deep down in the furthest recesses of her fear, she also craved the opportunity to find Luc again. Eliminating him would free her family from the threat he posed.
Henry remained stationed across the room. He wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t encroaching on her space, either.
His easygoing nature beckoned her and scared the hell out of her. Why hadn’t she met someone like him before Luc had beaten the ability to live in the moment out of her? Luc had used sex as a weapon. The effect of that violence still punched into her soul.
“Are you sure you want to help?”
“I said I would.”
I just hope I don’t regret my decision.
“Thank you.” Henry smiled and stood to leave. “You’re not tied into this, you know. If you want out, just say so.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before hopping up to gather her clothes. She wanted to curl up with Henry on the bed, but a quick retreat would probably be for the best. The knots in her stomach told her she wasn’t ready. Perhaps someday, sex would feel more like an act of love and not torture.
He turned to leave. She felt a tightening in her chest as she watched him go. And the thought of this moment, this chance disappearing, kicked her bravado into overdrive.
“Henry?”
He paused and then slowly turned around. His eyes remained fixed on her face; her gaze dropped to his abs. Muscle, definition, solid. The professor was hot. Maybe sex didn’t need love, maybe she just needed to lust after her bed partner. She walked toward him as though on autopilot. She could do this. She could seduce this man and feel strong. Still naked, she sashayed over to him, hoping she looked confident.
Henry leaned against the wall and watched. His eyes held amusement, and the corners of his mouth rose with his smile. She lifted her arms, bringing Henry’s focus to her chest.
“Like what you see, Professor?”
“I love what I see, partner. What’s the L.P. stand for?” He pointed to just north of her right breast and the tattoo forced on her one really ugly night.
“Love and Peace.”
She refused to back away as the fighter in her woke up, craving a man who seemed trustworthy and noble. She pulled him over to the bed, all hips and attitude, and made him sit on the edge. He no longer towered over her. In fact, his head was level with her shoulder. He placed a hand on her hip.
She leaned over him and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. “Or maybe it means ‘Lusty and Provocative.’”
“That describes you perfectly.”
They kissed again, deeper this time. Her anxiety floated away as her body responded to the sensual connection with electrifying intensity. Overwhelming emotions rippled through her, compelling her to surrender to Henry in every carnal way she could think of. He pulled back.
“Are you with me?” He stared into her eyes, calm, poised, waiting.
“Yes.”
Yes, I want all of you. Your messy hair, your bedroom eyes, and that seductive grin.
His arms wrapped around her, and his mouth closed in on her tattoo. His lips felt amazing on her skin. His tongue made a strong case for her to let go and allow him to eliminate the horrid memories of being branded Luc’s latest whore. He moaned as her fingers pressed over his shoulders and across his neck.
One of his hands roamed down her thigh, too close to a place that had known only violence. She recoiled at his touch. The memories too fresh, too painful.
A hand over her throat, an order to remain perfectly still, rough, brutal sex.
Luc had marked her forever with a tattoo on her skin and one embedded into her soul. How could she release such a past and move on? Pulling away, she grabbed her clothes and held them in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” His tone lowered into a soothing sound, without harboring an ounce of annoyance or frustration. He stood up, but didn’t approach her.
Holding back tears, she turned toward the bathroom. “I don’t sleep with anyone I work with. Ever.”
…
Henry took the coldest shower of his life and remained under the icy drops for thirty minutes. He understood she’d been hurt in the past, but she had to know he’d never harm her. He would, however, hurt the bugger who had made this amazing woman cower in fear over physical intimacy.
Perhaps this was for the best. He had to focus on finding the painting. He’d be wise to treat Gabe as an assistant, or a workmate. He shook his head. Impossible. His skin heated up just thinking about her.
He found her in the great hall stretched across one of the couches facing the window. Strong and vulnerable. She didn’t seem the type to want pity, so he decided to give her a bit of tough love instead.
“You need a haircut. Get up.” His tone came out more brusque than he’d wanted, but he had her attention.
She raised her eyebrows. He strode up to her and pointed at her foot propped on the armrest. Frowning at him, she moved it off the couch in slow motion. He then proceeded to do the same with her other foot. She sat up, not happy about his interruption.
“If this is to work, you need to play the part of a wealthy heiress in search of some amusement in your otherwise humdrum life.”
Gabe rolled her eyes and snorted, as though an unruly adolescent. “Humdrum life? Is that how heiresses live?” She slid back into a prone position. “I think I’d enjoy a humdrum life.”
Okay, that didn’t work. Perhaps a bribe would motivate her out the door. “We’ll find you some appropriate clothes as well. You must have been dressed better than this when you were working in the art world.”