Full Exposure

She laid her hand on his arm, waited patiently until his eyes met hers. “About the pictures.”

He cleared his throat again, a gesture that was getting to be a habit around her. “I like them. Especially the last one. It’s very …” His voice trailed off.

“Sensual?” she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Realistic? Arousing?” She stepped closer, glancing down at his very obvious erection as she did.

“Uh, definitely. All of those.” He took a step back, his pride smarting over having to retreat from her. But Serena was so into the photos he didn’t want to ruin it for her by acting like a total pervert who couldn’t handle some really beautiful adult art.

“I think so too.” She moved another step closer to him, her br**sts nearly brushing his chest before she turned back to the photos. “I’ve seen them before, right after Glenn finished them. The last one’s my favorite too. You can see the passion between them, not just in the obvious sexual position. But in the details.

“See how her hands are on his shoulders? They’re not just resting there. They’re clinging, the fingers digging in as she arches her lower body against him.” Her hands rested on his shoulders, lightly caressing him through his jacket.

“And his hands aren’t just grabbing her ass so he can f**k her. Look at him. He’s pulling her into him possessively—claiming her as his, branding her with more than just his cock.” One hand skimmed down his back to rest firmly on his ass while the other continued to massage his shoulders.

“Look how she’s offering herself to him. He isn’t just taking, she’s giving. Look at how she’s thrusting her breast into his mouth. You can tell that she’s begging for more. That she wants his mouth everywhere at once.” She stepped behind him, thrust her br**sts against his back as her hands crept around to his chest, her fingers lightly flicking against his rapidly hardening nipples.

“Her head’s thrown back, exposing the slender column of her throat. A totally defenseless position. Her legs are wrapped around him, once again giving him the position of power. She’s so vulnerable that he could hurt her, easily. A hand around her throat, a too violent thrust. But he doesn’t. He’s as vulnerable to her as she is to him.” She rested her head against his shoulders even as she began stroking his erection through his pants, hand over hand.

Kevin reached down, trapping her hands against him as he thrust helplessly against her. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in his entire life. Each breath burned violently through his lungs. Each beat of his heart thudded painfully in his chest. Each caress of her fingers pulsed through him, until his c**k was so hard he felt like it could hammer nails through concrete. Literally.

He thrust one more time against her hands and then stilled. He turned, pulling her into his arms as he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Let’s go find the limo,” he murmured.

“The limo?” Her eyes were almost as glazed as his.

“I’ll die if I’m not inside you. Soon.”

She licked her lips, even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. “Here. Now.”

“Right now?” He wanted to protest, to tell her all the reasons it was a bad idea. But her words whirled through him, taking his excitement to a level he hadn’t thought possible.

She nodded, pulling him into the dark and shadowed corner. “Right now.” She opened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He nearly shouted in ecstasy when his c**k sprang free of the confining clothes as her talented fingers slowly lowered his zipper.

But he had to be sure she knew what she was doing, had to be sure she really wanted this. “Serena, we should stop. Go somewhere more private.” Though it cost him dearly, he stopped her gentle stroking with his own hands.

“I don’t want to.” She licked her lips, pulled him with her as she backed up against the wall.

He pulled back, studied her face. “Are you sure?”

“You worry too much,” she murmured, leaning forward and blowing a stream of warm air against his ear. “Touch me.” Serena guided his hand under her skirt and up to her hot, wet folds.

His fingers found her, stroked her cl*t before he could stop himself. “You’re not wearing any—”

“Nope. Just a garter belt and stockings. Nothing else.”

“Damn,” he breathed, slipping a finger inside of her. “You feel so good.”

She moaned low in her throat, arched her h*ps and pulled him deeper inside of her. “So do you. Now f**k me before I explode.”

The vulgar words speared through him, increasing his excitement to a fever pitch. With a groan, he slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her against the wall. His c**k pressed urgently against her, wetness already leaking from its head.

“Wait,” she cried breathlessly, reaching into the very top of her stocking and pulling out a condom. “You need this.”

How could he have forgotten? He moved to take it from her, but she tore the package open with her teeth and slowly, slowly rolled the thin barrier over him. By the time the thing was on he was desperate for her. With one hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt, loving the feel of her tight, wet muscles around him.

“Mon Dieu, Serena. You’re wicked.” Again and again he pounded into her willing body.

“I know.” She pushed against him. “Harder, Kevin. Please. Harder.”

Her long legs were locked around him. Her head was thrown back. Her nipple was in his mouth. One hand was wrapped around his shoulders and the other slipped between them to stroke her cl*t as she pleaded with him. He gave her what she wanted, thrusting harder and deeper than he ever had before.

As he filled her completely, as he pounded into her as hard and as fast as possible, it came to him. He loved this woman. Loved everything about her, from the calm and cool woman she showed the public to the hot-blooded, passionate woman who made love to him better and hotter than anyone ever had. He loved holding her in his arms, loved watching her sleep, loved her strengths and her vulnerabilities.

As the realization of his feelings for her swept through him, so did the urgent need to come. “Serena, mon amour,” he gasped. “I can’t last much—”

With a low, keening cry she shattered, her muscles milking him until he too let go of his control and came apart in her arms.

When the last shudders passed, Serena rested her forehead against Kevin’s. Mission accomplished. She’d set out to seduce him and she’d done one hell of a job, if she did say so herself. Not that it was exactly difficult. He was the most passionate, responsive man she’d ever known. And while she had never considered doing something like this with any other man, with Kevin it felt right.

She sighed, allowed herself to drift as Kevin stroked her hair and pressed soft kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. “I could stay like this forever,” she murmured.

“Me too, cher. Me too.” But as Kevin was speaking the lights blinked, warning visitors of the museum’s impending closure. With a sigh of regret, he lifted Serena’s dress back into place before settling her on the ground.

She reached up and stroked a finger over his mouth. “I love the way you make me feel.”

He closed his eyes, breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. He wanted to pour his heart out, to tell her of the riot of feelings bouncing around inside of him. But it wasn’t the time and some vulnerable part of him he had thought long dead shied away from telling her too much, too soon. He settled for a flip, “I love the way you feel too,” and leaned down to kiss her again.

“Sssh.” She put a hand to his mouth. “Do you hear something?”

He listened for a moment and a huge grin split his face. The staccato tap of heels echoed in the room, as heels clicked on the hallway leading to the erotic photo exhibit. “Someone’s coming.”

“Shit!” Serena tried frantically to make herself presentable, shoving her br**sts back into her dress as fast as possible. Kevin laughed, but moved to shield her with his body even as he buttoned and zipped his own pants.

“Not so collected now, are you?” he teased as she shoved her fingers through her well-tousled hair.

“Shut up,” she answered with narrowed eyes. “Or this will be the last time I surprise you.”

That wiped the grin off his face, she noted with satisfaction. Taking a deep breath—something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately—she turned to face the docent headed their way, a serene smile firmly in place.

“We were just leaving,” she called out, grabbing Kevin’s Armani-clad arm and pulling him toward the front of the exhibit.

“Wonderful,” said the woman as she ushered them out. “Did you enjoy it?”

Kevin glanced at Serena, a mischievous smile lighting his face. “Did we, cher?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she answered, stepping on Kevin’s foot as she moved in front of him. “It was fabulous.”

“I’m so glad. I just wish you had had more time. Normally, we’re not sticklers on the closing time, but I’ve got tickets to a fabulous exhibit opening over at the Museum of Art tonight. I’m very excited.”

“The Kevin Riley exhibit?” Serena asked, ignoring Kevin’s sudden grip on her arm.

“That’s the one. He’s simply brilliant, isn’t he? Though I hear he’s a bit of a recluse.”

“Brilliant,” Serena echoed, tongue-in-cheek. “But a recluse? Not at all. In fact—”

“In fact, we’re going to the same place ourselves,” Kevin quickly interrupted. “Maybe we’ll see you there?”

The woman looked startled. “That would be splendid.” She leaned in closer. “But do you mind if I ask how you got the tickets? I had to pull in every favor I’ve ever given anyone just to get one.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Serena, jerking her head toward Kevin. “He knows the artist.” And with a wink for Kevin, she headed jauntily down the stairs.

Chapter Ten

Groaning with frustration, Serena studied the long, hard surface of the building. She wanted a background shot for the book—maybe—of where Kevin’s newest private sculpture was being installed. But she couldn’t get the shot right.

She lowered her camera and studied the imposing steel and glass structure in front of her. The Matthias Building was one of the most beautifully designed modern buildings in the United States—nearly as recognizable as the Empire State Building or the Sears Tower. She wanted to capture that legacy, along with the admiration and awe the powerful lines of the building inspired.

She’d deliberately waited until this time of day, when the sun was at its highest, because she wanted the dramatic contrast of the building with its shadow. No ordinary picture for this extraordinary structure—she hoped to use the darkness of the shadows to highlight the shocking architecture of this icelike palace.

But she’d been through three rolls of film and she hadn’t gotten what she wanted. No matter what angle she tried or what position she contorted her body into, she couldn’t get it exactly right. There was no tingle of awareness, no shiver along her spine telling her that she’d taken the “perfect” picture. Like Kevin with his sculptures, she instinctively knew when a picture was right—even before she’d developed it.

With a weary sigh, Serena sank cross-legged onto a street-side bench, pushing her sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes. San Diego was known for its mild weather and ten months a year the reputation was well-deserved. But the end of August and beginning of September were brutal. Not Louisiana brutal, but not particularly comfortable for anyone lugging camera equipment around under the hot sun for two hours either. She was tempted to forget the image in her head and go back into the air-conditioned building. Kevin would be in the middle of installing his truly magnificent sculpture, his truly magnificent body twisted into any number of attractive contortions as he built, nailed, or hammered it into place.