“Is that right?” I reply in a sultry voice.
Throughout the night, there’s been a flirtatious vibe between us, even more so than usual. Probably because it’s been so long since we’ve been intimate, both of us ready to snap at any moment. But despite the fact Anderson insisted on sitting as close to me as possible during dinner, he’s barely touched me, leaving me squirming.
The anticipation is driving me mad.
“You’re about to find out.”
The elevator comes to a stop, but he doesn’t retreat, his gaze searing into me, warming me from the inside out.
“Aren’t we going to get off?” I ask in a shaky voice.
His eyes flame in the darkness, jaw clenching. Then he nuzzles the crook of my neck as he grinds his hips against me. “God, I really fucking hope so. You have no idea how badly I need to get off.”
“I think I do.” I run my hand through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’ve been on edge all night long.”
He pulls back. “Any reason for that?”
“You know the reason for that.”
“Do I?” he counters, feigning innocence.
“You’re the one who told me not to wear any panties, then barely laid a hand on me all night.”
His conniving grin returns as he rakes his gaze down my body. “In my experience, delayed gratification can be quite…pleasurable.”
“And sadistic,” I retort.
“Trust me, love. I’ll make it worth your while.” Winking, he opens the cage door and steps into yet another dark space.
I take a moment to compose myself, drawing in a shaky breath to calm my raging hormones.
Everything about tonight has been perfect. From going out in public as Prince Gabriel’s fiancée, to the amazing dinner, to the even more amazing conversation as Anderson and I reconnected after weeks of being torn in two different directions.
But right now, I don’t want to be wined and dined. I don’t want to be romanced. I want Anderson. More than I think I ever have.
“Welcome to my secret lair,” he says once I step off the elevator. “Or, as I like to refer to it, my studio.”
He flicks a switch on the wall, bathing everything in light. Pipes and beams run the length of the ceiling, the walls exposed brick. A variety of different light stands have been arranged in the corner, as well as cables and a few fans. Framed prints and canvases are interspersed throughout, some on easels, some hanging on the walls. From what I know of Anderson’s style, they’re all his work.
“You have a studio?”
“I do.”
“Why isn’t it at your house? You have enough space there.”
“Because sometimes you need an escape. Esme’s cooking is hers. This is mine. Where I come when things get to be too much. When I need to feel…” He trails off, searching for the right word.
“Normal,” I finish his statement.
“Exactly.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “When I need to feel normal.”
“Who knows about this?” I pull away from him and continue into the room, studying the photographs.
“Just Esme and Creed. And now you. This is a part of myself I don’t share with many people. But I want you to know this side of me. Give you another peek into who I am.” He gazes around the dimly lit space. “There are a lot of pieces of me sprinkled around here.”
I survey the various images. If I know anything about Anderson, I’d assume each of the photos he chose to display here holds a special place in his heart. Has a deep meaning for him.
“When did you take this?”
I move toward a mostly black-and-white image on canvas. The only color is a red balloon against a cloudy sky, a young, blonde girl standing on the beach watching it float away. There’s a sadness in its simplicity that draws me to it.
“Is it recent?” I glance over my shoulder as he approaches.
“Actually, no. That was the first photo I’d ever taken. At least with a professional camera and using some of the techniques my instructor taught me. That’s Esme.”
“Esme?” I whip my attention back to the canvas, squinting. “But this girl… She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight.”
“Seven.”
“You started learning photography at eight?”
“My therapist thought it would be good for me.”
“I remember you telling me that. I assumed, well… I guess once I learned who you were and that your girlfriend had passed away unexpectedly…”
“You assumed my therapist suggested it as a coping mechanism after Kendall’s death.”
“Yeah.”
“It was to cope with, well…” He waves a hand around. “All of this, I suppose. Going from a nobody to suddenly being on everyone’s radar. Being chased by paparazzi at only eight years of age. Coming to terms with the fact that my life was no longer my own.”
I study him, my heart aching for the little boy who had to grow up overnight. I may not have had the best mother, but I was still able to be a child. He was deprived of that.
“Did it help? Photography, I mean.”
“It did. Knowing that I had photography, had this hobby… It was and still is something that’s just for me. A part of me the rest of the world doesn’t get. I’m probably not making any sense, but—”
I place my hand on his cheek, and he lifts his gaze to me. “You make perfect sense. I understand now. Prince Gabriel’s more a mask than a person, something you need to don to protect yourself from everything that goes along with the job.”
He smiles sadly as he nods. “And you’ll have to do the same. You’ll have to be a different person when you’re in public. You can still give them parts of you, don’t have to be this uncaring machine, but if you give them all of you, there will be nothing left for me.” His Adam’s apple bobs in a hard swallow. “Worse, there will be nothing left for you.”
Eyes impassioned, he grips my cheeks so I’m unable to escape, unable to avoid this conversation, forced to face the reality of my future.
“I’m sorry I kept Prince Gabriel from you for so long. It’s not because I didn’t want you in my life, Nora. I do.” He licks his lips, a contemplative look crossing his face. “I guess I was so used to people only wanting to be with me because of what I am. Not who I am. So I may not have given you Prince Gabriel.” He brushes his thumb along my bottom lip, sending a shiver through me. “But it’s because I wanted you to see the best part of me. The real part of me. Although, I must confess…”
“Yes?” I tilt my head back, my breathing growing uneven.
“You are the best part of me.”
My heart expands more than I thought possible as his declaration fills me with love. “And you’re the best part of me.”
He leans down, erasing the last bit of space between us. When his lips touch mine, I sigh into him, his kiss like an electrical jolt, sparking me back to life. It’s not a passion-filled exchange like in front of the restaurant earlier. That one was for them. But this one…a gentle meeting of our mouths…is just for us.
“Anders,” I exhale.
“Yes?”