He brings both his hands to my face, his thumbs pressing the corners of my mouth.
“I’ll miss you,” he says.
“Maybe I’ll miss you too.”
“Maybe, huh?” He tugs my lower lip between his teeth, and a sharp impulse lights a fuse inside me. When he licks where he bit before, I fist his shirt.
“Maybe I need a reminder of what I should miss,” I say breathlessly.
He pulls me into a kiss so hot, I barely fight the urge to dry hump him. With a groan, Alex pulls away, looking between us. Whoops, I’ve been pressing my hips against him. Completely unintentional, of course.
“Woman, do you want to drive me insane?”
“Hey, if I were naughty, I’d make you late for that flight. I’m being very selfless right now.”
He pinches my ass. “When I return to San Francisco, we’ll work on that definition of selfless.”
I grin, shuddering for effect. “I can’t wait for the lessons, Master. Can I pick my rewards?”
“The way you’re going, you’re more likely to earn punishments. I promise you’ll love them.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and sweet bejesus. Hot gaze and sinful words are an explosive combo.
“I think you’re all talk and no play, Westbrook,” I say coyly, touching his bicep languidly, so he knows I mean business. In response, he grips my hand, kissing the pads of my fingers. For anyone watching, this could seem like a sweet gesture. Except that he works in a flick of tongue.
“I’m not about playing at all. I’m all about winning. Anyway that ends up with you begging for me to be inside you is a win in my book.”
Boom! That explosive combo did the job thoroughly. I’m so turned on I want to climb him. But I’m not completely selfish. I know he has a plane to catch.
“Don’t be late for meeting Preston. I’ll miss you, Alex. Good luck with the interviews. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
“Thanks. And tell me if Preston bugs you too much, or if you want to talk about the protocols. They’re not as scary as they seem.”
“It takes a lot to scare me, Alex. Don’t worry.”
He gives me one last kiss, more of a chaste peck on the lips before leaving the room. Sighing, I run my hands up and down my arms, already feeling cold where he touched me before.
Chapter Nineteen
Summer
“And starting with this painting, we enter a new phase in Monet’s career.”
I glance around at the group of ten, trying to gauge if everyone’s still with me. The audience is always a mixed bag. Some are at the gallery because they genuinely like art, some because their friends or significant others dragged them here. Others simply want to check off attractions on their lists.
As I lead the group through the remaining paintings, I pepper my explanations with random trivia from Monet’s life, even add a few questionable but fun rumors, which earn me chuckles. It’s the best way to entertain even the visitors who aren’t art enthusiasts. We get a lot of tourists in July.
After the tour ends, I head straight to the small kitchen at the back, smoothing my hands down my skirt. God, I missed my high heels and pencil skirts and shirts. I feel like I have more purpose when I dress up.
I prepare myself a coffee at our Nespresso machine. After having slept in until eight for the past couple of weeks, waking up at six these last three days has been brutal. I also miss waking up with Alex’s arms around me. How can I miss him so much? Well... he does have the sexiest, stro
ngest arms. Missing him is totally appropriate. And I’ll see him in two weeks. Oh boy! I’m already showing signs of Alex-withdrawals.
“Summer, you’re free. Good,” Olivia says, stepping inside the small kitchen. “How did it go with Rupert Felton?”
“We’re golden. He agreed to lend us the collection for two weeks.”
Rupert Felton is eighty going on one hundred and could pass off as the Grinch. I met him while working in Rome, which is why Olivia asked me to reach out to him.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Olivia nods, picking a feather from her black sweater dress. I’m jealous of the dark green glossy belt at her waist and the matching shoes.