I followed. The swing of her hips and the curve of her ass were better than Monet’s water lilies and sweeter than the Mona Lisa. I enjoyed the view, wondering if she was going back to her hotel, and that’s when she stopped in the middle of the busy street and tried to rip off her shoes.
I was distracted by the sudden flash of her thighs as she leaned over. Her skirt flipped up, but too soon she jumped, toppled to the right, and poised for a bad fall. I swooped right in and caught her.
Sweet heaven. Her body felt perfect in my arms, full of softness and heat. I righted her, then knelt to finish removing her shoes. The shock and arousal in those inky eyes confirmed I was right. All I needed to do was play on her body’s reaction, steamroll past her defenses, and get her into my bed.
Then keep her there.
“You!” she gasped.
I grinned. She was adorable. My hands tingled as I ran them up her leg and stroked the trembling flesh of her knee. I wanted to keep going higher until I dove into her sweet, hot pu**y, but I kept my control. I’d already screwed up once. A second time would be deadly.
“Just your normal prince on horseback,” I said easily. If I kept it light and friendly, she may not give me a tongue blistering. At least, not the kind I wanted.
Her brows drew in a fierce frown, but she didn’t move away. Her face flickered with an array of emotions before she seemed to settle. “Are you stalking me?” she finally asked.
“Now, that would make me creepy. I was just barhopping with the guys and noticed you. Were they your friends? Mackenzie and Cassie?”
“Yes.”
“Did you leave because of me?”
She seemed surprised by my question. “No.” Letting out an annoyed breath, she backtracked. “Okay, yes. I went to find someone else.”
Hot jealousy chopped through me, but I kept cool. “Did you?”
“No. There are too many ass**les in Key West.”
I laughed. “Asshole Central, huh?”
Her lips tugged in a grin. I ached to press my mouth over hers and feel the lush curves. “Yeah, something like that. Why are you following me?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about you all day. Because I f**ked up and wanted to apologize again. Because the thought of you finding some other guy to smile at and touch makes me want to go apeshit.”
Her dark eyes widened. “That’s a lot of reasons.”
I chose my words carefully, knowing it was a turning point. “I’m not a liar. I want to spend some time with you so you can make your own decision and get to know me better. I’d like to walk with you, enjoy your company. May I?”
I wasn’t used to asking women to spend some time with me. It was always the opposite, and suddenly I felt a flash of vulnerability. What if she said no and refused to talk to me again? I waited her out and realized how important it was that she agreed. How bad I wanted to spend more time with her—in bed and out.
“Okay.”
I almost sagged with relief but managed to keep my man card. “Great. Where are we headed?”
“South Beach.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I fell in pace with her as we made our way down Duval. I’d been coming to Key West for years now, and I always loved the free spirit of the people. From the sunset parties, to the sailing and revelry, it was a place to get lost and yet somehow manage to be yourself at the same time. “I wanted to let you know Tracey is okay. I made sure she slept it off and took her home. No one bothered her.”
“Good, I’m glad. I was worried.”
She swung her hands back and forth like she was a bit nervous. I saw her teeth reach for her lips and confirmed she was a biter. Unfortunately, that just made me want to experiment with the other places on her body I could bite, so I firmly veered away from the image.
Down, boy.
“How old are you anyway?” she asked.
“Twenty-three. Please tell me you’re of drinking age and I didn’t serve you illegally.”
She chuckled. I’d bet she’d never giggle. Another thing I liked. “I’m twenty-one. But I didn’t see you carding at your door, so you could’ve been arrested.”
I winced. She was right. I had gotten used to my parents greasing many officials’ hands enough so I could do what I wanted without getting into trouble. The party was a yearly tradition, and I never got bothered. A sliver of shame cut through me. “Yeah, guilty as charged.”
She swiveled her head and stared at me. Like she was trying to figure something out that didn’t fit. “Did you graduate?”
I really hated these personal questions but figured I owed her. If I answered enough to keep her curiosity satisfied, I’d be able to move on to the good stuff. Like sex. Lots of sex. “Not really.” I waited for her horror or for her to judge me as lacking. But she only waited me out, swinging her arms, like she was really interested in the story. “My parents threw me into Yale for law. I hated it. Made a fuss, got kicked out, and I went to Princeton. They thought maybe doctor. I thought not. Eventually, they gave up trying, and let me be. I decided to travel and find out what I wanted to do.”
“I always wanted to travel,” she said. “I think I’d pick Italy first.”
“Why?”
“The food.”
I laughed. “Yeah, the pasta and vino are killer. But the art is the best.”
She sighed with longing. “Did you see the Pieta? Or David? I heard it’s so massive it steals the air in the room.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding. She spoke like she understood the beauty of art in a way most people never got. Shit, most of my friends just looked for the naked statues to compare their junk. I never got to have a decent intelligent conversation about something I loved. “That’s a perfect description,” I said. “Michelangelo takes cold marble and installs flesh and blood and emotion. The first time I saw David at the Academia, framed by the arched doorways, I cried. No one reaches for that type of mastery anymore. We’re all too...lazy. Happy with being content or saying something’s nice. There should be more.”
She touched my arm and smiled. “How wonderful. You’re an artist.”
I jerked around. “No. I paint and study, but I’m not an artist.”
She ignored me. “Yes, you are. It’s like being anything—an actor or a writer. If you do it, you are. Getting published or scoring a movie deal is one of the goals, but it doesn’t invalidate what you do.”