Chapter 6
6
KERRIGAN
I t had only been two days since our last date, but Aston had haunted my thoughts around the clock. I’d spent the time trying to focus on work, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything but him. My mind was focused on my growing fascination with the man who had swept me off my feet with his romantic gestures.
Nothing could erase the memory of his kisses, or the way his voice wrapped around me like silk.
It was hard to comprehend how completely he’d captured my attention when I’d never had a problem with ignoring the outside world while concentrating on work. But there was no denying I was falling hard and fast for Aston. Not with how my heart raced at each ding of my phone’s notifications, hoping it was a message from him.
Luckily, this time it was.
Aston: Come away with me again tonight.
I loved how his tone was more demanding than questioning, as though he had no doubt that I wanted to go out with him. Which was fair because I didn’t need to stop to think about my reply.
Me: What time are you picking me up? And what should I wear?
Aston: 7. Something slinky that shows off your curves.
It was a good thing that Melanie and I wore the same size because her closet had better options than mine. I had plenty of clothes appropriate for the museum, a few conservative, little black dresses, and lots of comfy stuff to wear around the apartment. But nothing sexy like the gown I borrowed for the gala.
Me: Where are you taking me?
Aston: You’ll see.
Me: Another surprise date?
Aston: Bien s?r.
I could hear his deep voice in my head, that sexy French accent sending a delicious shiver down my spine. Confessing how much I loved surprises was an excellent decision since he’d used that knowledge to his full advantage over the past week. I’d received a perfectly wrapped gift each day—anything from an orchid the exact color of the gown I’d been wearing when we met to a sketch he’d drawn of me that was more thoughtful than any present I’d ever received. And he’d refused to tell me where we were going on any of our dates, dazzling me with access to the Atlanta art scene that I’d never have been able to gain on my own, even if I’d been living here for a decade.
Me: See you in a few hours.
I rushed through the rest of my work and raced out the door only minutes after the museum closed. Melanie was getting ready to serve at some high-society event when I barged into her bathroom and asked, “Can I borrow a dress?”
She met my gaze in the mirror and wagged her brows. “Another hot date with Mr. TDH?”
“Yeah.”
She jerked her chin toward her bedroom. “My closet is your closet. Grab anything you’d like.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a quick hug before whirling around to dash into her room.
I had an hour and forty-five minutes to get ready, and I used a good chunk of it rifling through her hangers, trying to find the perfect dress. I was so absorbed in my search that I barely noticed when she left.
I finally landed on a green slip dress that was bias-cut satin, which gave the material a clingy, fluid fit that hugged my body without being too tight. With spaghetti straps, an open back, and a slit on my right thigh, it made me feel incredibly sexy.
I was just finishing my makeup when there was a loud rap of knuckles against the front door. Still barefoot, I hurried through the living room to let Aston into the apartment.
His gray eyes skimmed the length of my body, heating with masculine appreciation. “ Tu es magnifique. ”
Luckily, I didn’t need to speak French to understand the compliment, although he’d taught me a few more phrases. Mostly dirty ones that I was hoping to hear him whisper in my ear when we were in bed together at some point. “ Merci. ”
I stepped aside to let him pass by me, then turned to grab a pair of strappy heels in the shoe rack to the left of the door. When I bent at the waist to slide them onto my feet, he took them from me and crouched down, his hand wrapping around my ankle. “Allow me, petite miette. ”
I felt like a fairy-tale princess as he buckled the straps at the back of my feet, goose bumps spreading up my calf at his gentle touch.
“Thank you.”
He straightened and flashed me a sexy smile. “My pleasure.”
I grabbed my purse, and he locked my door before leading me to the black car waiting at the curb in front of my building. After helping me into the passenger seat, he circled the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s side. The engine hummed quietly as we wound through the streets of Atlanta, Aston’s fingers laced through mine. I didn’t ask where we were going since I wanted to enjoy the surprise.
Ten minutes into our drive, he tugged on a lock of my hair. “Trust me?”
Despite the whispers of his shadowy affiliations, I felt safe with Aston. “Absolutely.”
Masculine satisfaction shone from his gray eyes as his lips curved into a pleased smirk. “ Bien .”
He pulled off to the side of the road and removed his tie, lifting it to my eyes.
Quirking a brow, I asked, “You’re going to blindfold me?”
He nodded. “ Oui , the location of our date is a well-kept secret that very few know.”
I’d meant it when I said that I trusted him, so I turned my head so he could slip the tie over my eyes and knot it in the back. Losing that sense only heightened my others, making me even more aware of Aston’s expensive and darkly masculine scent.
After another five minutes, the car slowed, and I heard the creaking of a gate. When we rolled to a stop, Aston carefully helped me out of the vehicle. Then he tugged on the knot in his tie to undo it, and my blindfold fell from my eyes.
I craned my neck, my gaze scanning our surroundings as I wondered where he’d taken me. The place looked forgotten—the gates were slightly rusted, and ivy curled up the aged stone walls. But when Aston opened the front door, the interior told a different story.
Light pooled from chandeliers that looked original to the house, casting a golden glow over polished floors and high ceilings. Every wall bore something breathtaking—portraits that hadn’t been seen in decades, sculptures nestled in alcoves, tapestries that shimmered faintly with age.
“Welcome to the Ambrose House.” Aston guided me inside. “Once a private home, now a secret repository for some of the world’s most overlooked masterpieces.”
“How do you even get access to something like this?”
“I have...friends in curious places,” he answered cryptically. “The estate’s trust keeps it quiet. No public tours, no photo ops. Just preservation and appreciation. Those of us who know about it are sworn to discretion.”
I turned in a slow circle, awe seeping into my bones. “This place is incredible.”
“Only one thing could make it more beautiful,” he said, voice lower now. “And she’s standing right in front of me.”
A deep blush swept up my neck. “Do all Frenchmen flirt like they’re quoting poetry?”
“I’ve only ever been like this with you, ma petite miette .”
My heart stuttered, butterflies swirling in my belly yet again.
He offered me his arm once more, and I took it. Room by room, he guided me through centuries of forgotten beauty. There were minor works by major artists, unsigned sketches likely drawn by the hands of masters, and relics that glowed with mystery. I’d been to more museums than I could count, but I’d never experienced anything like the tour he gave me.
In one of the upper galleries, I stopped to study a Baroque sculpture by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. “I’ve been meaning to ask, since you’re so familiar with Saraceni’s work, did you happen to pay particular attention to the Caravaggio painting that was auctioned at the gala where we met?”
“There’s only one thing of beauty from that night that stands out in my mind.” He brushed a lock of my hair over my shoulder. “You.”
I was dazed by his compliment as he led me to another gallery, where I paused in front of a triptych that seemed to shimmer with gold leaf and decay.
“This is Byzantine,” I whispered, my fingers hovering just shy of the glass case.
“Late period. Eleventh century,” Aston confirmed. “Rumored to have been stolen from a monastery and returned to its original owner in the seventies. Or so they say.”
“Are you always this full of half-truths and shadowed history?”
He stepped closer behind me. “You’re drawn to mystery, miette . It’s part of your fire.”
I turned toward him, intending to reply with something witty, but the words caught in my throat when I realized how close he’d come. His face was only inches from mine. His eyes, so pale they almost glowed, locked on my face with an intensity that made my heart race.
“You should warn me when you’re about to say things like that,” I breathed.
He smiled slowly. “Would it help?”
“Probably not.”
When his lips brushed mine, I leaned into him. His hands slid from my waist to my back, pressing me close enough that I could feel the effect I had on him. His hard length was hot against my belly, making my inner walls clench as my panties dampened.
I gasped when his tongue brushed mine, and he swallowed the sound, one hand slipping to cradle the back of my neck. This was more than a kiss. It was a claiming. One that quickly spiraled out of control.
My fingers slid up to his lapels, curling around them as he shifted, pinning me gently against the paneled wall behind me. My thighs trembled as one of his wedged between them.
I made a sound—half whimper, half plea. His groan was low and rough before he kissed me again, harder this time.
His hand slid up my thigh beneath the slit. I arched into his touch, overcome by the rush of desire roaring through my veins.
“Aston,” I gasped into his mouth.
He pulled back an inch, breathing hard as his forehead rested against mine. “You’re too damn tempting. This isn’t how I want our first time to be.”
“Maybe—”
He didn’t let me finish my suggestion before he added, “But I’m not going to leave you wanting, ma petite miette. ”
He traced his fingers over the gusset of my panties before slipping one inside. My eyes fluttered closed with a moan, and my head fell back against the wall as his finger dipped between my hot, slick folds.
“ Merde , you’re soaked.”
His hips bucked against me, and I felt just how hard I was making him while he coated his fingers with my wetness. It gave me the courage to whisper, “Only for you.”
“ Exactement, ” he growled before claiming my lips in another deep kiss.
Then he worked the tip of his finger inside me, pumping the digit at a torturously slow pace that left me desperate for more. I let out a small whimper of protest when he twisted his hand, but it turned into a moan of pleasure when he slipped his entire hand into my panties and began to massage my clit in slow circles.
“You feel so good, miette . Hot. Tight. Do you like this?”
“So much,” I panted, rolling my hips in an instinctual move that ground my pussy against his hand.
“Are you going to come for me?”
I felt the pleasure building in my body, my muscles taut. “I think so.”
“That’s ma bonne fille .”
I’d been fantasizing about him calling me his good girl just like that ever since he taught me the phrase a few days ago. But it was even better hearing it for real. So much so that the next swipe of his fingers had me seeing stars as I flew apart.
“That’s right, Kerrigan. Come for me, just like that. Let me know how good I just made you feel.”
When my body finally stopped shuddering, I collapsed against my chest, my knees going weak. I probably should’ve been embarrassed by what had just happened, but it seemed fitting that the first orgasm Aston gave me happened while surrounded by such beauty…even if the setting was wildly inappropriate.