Page 85 of The Prize

“That’s true.” I did get jittery if too much time passed and I couldn’t bathe in the beauty of the old masters.

“I got my science fix. This is for you.” He pushed me against a marble pillar, trapping me between the stone and his hard chest. “Give me permission.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “What for?”

“This.” He crushed his lips to mine, kissing me hard on the mouth, and passion surged through me as his tongue lashed feverishly, alighting every nerve. My body pulsed with pleasure as his cologne cloaked me in his seductive mastery and made me forget we were in a public place. He pulled away and grinned revealing that familiar warmth in his gaze. “I love seeing you come alive like this.”

“We’re still in the foyer,” I chuckled.

“You are home, Zara,” he growled into my ear. “In my opinion you’re the masterpiece.”

We’d caught the attention of a crowd of tourists who were looking our way and they giggled at us.

Don’t pull away...

The pressure of his body lifted from mine and instinctively I grabbed his shoulders to hold him to me. With each passing day, I’d sensed him tuning into my needs and being here was proof of that. Breathing in the gallery air felt like normality had returned even if it was temporary.

With my arm in his we strolled along the endless rooms of the Met, pausing here and there to savor a painting and swoon at the talent that had brought it to life. Within the heart of a top-floor exhibit, a French Renaissance display opened to us. I settled on the leather seat in the middle of this grandeur to admire the fantastic imagery ofThe Last Judgmentby Hieronymus Bosch. A terrifying painting on three panels, the first of the Garden of Eden, the middle depicting God in heaven casting out his rebel angels and the right panel where Jesus judged the souls of the damned. The vision was hard to turn away from.

“Current mood?” He sat beside me and gestured to the panels.

“I’m a little scared, Tobias.”

“Don’t worry about Burell—”

“No, I mean you and I have loved art all our lives. What will this do to us?”

“When you’re reunited with your paintings you will feel different about all of this. I will see to it that our creation has a brief existence. It will be as though she never existed.”

“You’re asking a lot from me.” I wrapped my arm through his. “And I’m asking even more from you.”

“I’d do anything for you, Zara.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I want it over.”

He caressed my back and we sat quietly and savored the peace of this quiet room and I tried to imagine how things would be between us after this.

He turned to face me. “You didn’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“When I confessed how I feel about you.”

I turned to look at him. “Are you talking about what you told me in the New York Ballet theatre?”

“Yes.”

Was he really referring to his wordsI sense how easy it would be to love you?“You were pretty vague.”

He pulled me into him and crushed his lips to mine sparking an erotic aliveness within me, and I swooned as the tension in my shoulders that I’d been carrying for so long relaxed. These flashes of his affection were dangerously convincing.

I nipped his lip. “Security is watching.”

“All part of our ruse.”

I felt a wave of vulnerability. “So that kiss meant nothing?”

“It meant everything.” He leaned back a little to try and read me. “What I meant was I don’t care what the world thinks.”