“Do you work out a lot or something?” I slide down his body until my feet hit the floor. I’d kicked my heels off under the kitchen island.
“I work out, yes.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen.
I almost have to run to keep up with him. It takes me two steps to match his one.
“Sorry.” He turns. In a blink of an eye, I’m in his arms as he takes the stairs three at a time, carrying me as though I’m as light as a feather.
My eyes eat up everything around me. This place really is beautiful. It’s filled with wealth I could never dream of. I’m going to have to sneak out and look around. I’ll just have to figure out a way to get away from him for a while. Not sure how I’m going to do that. If he’s not looking at me, he’s touching me.
I could fake falling asleep. He can’t steal my necklace, so it’s safe. Unless his plan is to cut my head off while I sleep? Which I doubt by the way he looks at me.
“Is that a cat?” I almost jump from Gaines’s arms and forget about everything else. “He’s so adorable!”
Gaines reluctantly lets me go. I rush over to the fluffy cat. He’s sitting on the end of the giant bed. His green eyes are full of cuteness and curiosity. Then he falls over, giving me his belly. I reach out to pet him but stop. I’ve seen this trick before on Tik-Tok. I reach out my hand tentatively to pet him, waiting for him to strike, but he doesn’t. He continues to lie there bared to me. “I think he likes me.” I rub his belly, which earns me a loud purr.
Gaines gives his cat a look.
“Don’t glare at him. He’s a sweet sugar kitty. Yes he is.”
Gaines folds his arms over his chest. I continue to rub the big fluffy furball.
“I can’t believe you.” I look up from what I’m doing, thinking Gaines is talking to me, but his eyes are focused on the cat. “He always tries to lure me in by displaying his belly to me. Yet, every single time I wind up with a nice scratch from him. Little traitor.”
I smile, loving the fact that the cat is allowing me to pet it. “You’ve had enough of her attention, Shah. Save some for someone else.”
I turn to look at Gaines. How am I going to keep this man at arm’s length? Maybe a little bit of kissing wouldn't hurt. It will distract him. Make him think I’m into him. Which I’m totally not.
“The dress,” Gaines says. Before I know what’s happening, he reaches behind me and pulls the zipper down. It falls to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my plain white cotton panties. Crap. They’re the one thing I hadn’t even considered upgrading. I guess I still have a lot to learn in this game of seduction. But by the look on Gaines’s face, you’d never know it.
10
Gaines
She stands in front of me like Venus rising from the waves, one arm draped across her breasts as she finds me with her big eyes. “Whoa!” Reaching down, she pulls her dress up and holds it against her chest.
Keeping my hands to myself is a feat. “If you want the stain gone, you’ll have to hand over the dress.”
“I can’t just hand over the dress. I’m naked!” She kicks her chin up, then seems to rethink, because her eyebrows draw together. “Naked, right. I’m naked. That’s good.”
“I agree.” I step closer to her.
“I should give you this dress.” Her breaths quicken.
“Yes.”
“Because that’s seductive.”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
Shah rubs against her legs, his whiskers sticking straight out.
She chews her bottom lip. “Do you have something else I could wear maybe?”
As much as I want to strip her white panties off and get a taste of the treasure that lies hidden beneath them, I also want her to be comfortable. Given her current lip-nibbling, I can see she needs a bit more time.
With an inner groan, I nod, then walk past her and into my room.
She follows me as I hurry into my closet, stop for a moment to adjust the front of my pants, then grab a button-up from the nearest hanger.
“Thanks.” She takes it from me, then turns around, drops her dress, and slips the shirt on. It’s far too big, but I like the way it looks on her. My fabric. Her body. I lick my lips and pick up the discarded dress.
Taking it to Mrs. Pettyford isn’t an option. I can’t let my treasure out of my sight. So, instead I send the widow a quick text and drape the dress outside my bedroom door, then close it with a heavy click.
“This room is bigger than my grandma’s house.” She spins, her gaze lifting to the vaulted ceiling. “My room could probably fit in your bathroom. And Grandma could park her old beater in your closet a few times over.”
“You’re close with her, your grandma?” I approach her again, my need to be near her verging on obsession.
She stops spinning, and her chin drops. “I was.”
I pull her into my arms and hold her too tightly, but I can’t help myself. Those two words from her lips carried more grief than she should ever have to bear alone.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair as she wraps her arms around my waist.
She lets me hold her, her breath hitching for a moment before she gets herself under control. I want to tell her that she can cry, that there’s nothing she could do that would turn me away from her, but I don’t want to spook her. I may be under her spell, but I’m clear-eyed enough to realize that the powerful feelings surging through me could scare her off. Hell, they scare me.
“It was her time. That’s what she said.” She turns her head so her cheek is against my chest. “She seemed to know. And then she was gone.”
I stroke her hair. “I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.
“She was a pistol.” She sighs. “And I miss her so much.”
We stand there for a long while, and I’ve never felt more needed in my whole life. Just the way she trusts me to be here, to comfort her--it’s a heady feeling, one I never thought I’d want, much less enjoy. But I do. I want it all from her.
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” She backs up and wipes her eyes with the back of my sleeve.
“You can tell me anything. After all, I want to learn more about you. All I’ve got so far is that you’re from Louisiana and used to live with your much beloved grandma.” I stroke her cheek.
She leans into my touch, seems to remember herself, then pulls away. I move with her, as if pulled by a magnet.
“So.” She clears her throat. “Mrs. Pettyford said you collect things. What kind of things?”
“Art, jewels, ancient totems, things that may not have anything more than cultural value, and some things that are beyond priceless.”
“You take things from people?” She turns in a slower circle, examining my room more closely.
“No.”
“No?” She looks up at me, a touch of defiance in her eyes.
“No.” I meet her gaze. “I don’t steal anything. Not really. I remove items that would likely be destroyed without my intervention.”
“Your ‘intervention,’ huh?” She crosses her arms, which makes her hard nipples press even harder against the fabric of my shirt. “Well, who died and made you king of ‘items’?”