William repeatedly told himself that all he wanted was simply to get away from the sharks closing in on him back on the main gallery floor. More and more people had started to loiter in his vicinity, watching him instead of the art they had supposedly come to see. Mingling had never been his thing, and taking praise from people who then criticized him behind his back seemed like a bloody waste of time and nerves. He’d rather someone call him a washed-up wanker to his face than watch those false, syrupy smiles.

But if all he craved was a moment of solitude, then why was he guiding Lily down the employees’ only corridor?

The sound of her classy black heels ricocheted off the almost sterile white walls, becoming softer whenever they ran into one of the gallery’s workers or caterers—as if she wanted to make herself disappear entirely. And, honestly, could he even blame her?

She was young, still forging her career. Being seen with an old fart like him would probably do more damage to her reputation than good.

He was well aware that for all the grand words and talk of equality, women were still slapped with a whole lot of prejudice for the majority of time. Hell, the exhibition itself backed that wretched thought. He could shoot out the names of a dozen exceptional female photographers, but out of the seven slots at the Biennials, not a single one went to them.

He winced. He was a bastard himself for taking the offered position like the privileged fellow he was instead of giving the organizers shit for their lineup.

A soft sigh rose, then fell in his chest.

Refusing the slot would have been the right thing to do. But then he wouldn’t have met Lily…

Caught somewhere between annoyance and gratitude, he pushed open the door and held it for her. Relief washed over him when he spotted no one lurking by the thin, metallic strip of an ashtray, and before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his fingers lightly to the small of Lily’s back.

Despite the thick woolen coat she had on, he could feel the heat of her body—feel that bloody alluring curve of her spine, too. He couldn’t deny he had half the mind to fuck her right here and now, if she agreed.

That, however, was precisely why he had zero intention of letting anything ever remotely close to a question on that matter slip from his tongue.

No more women.

Yet somehow he couldn’t help thinking that Lily might be his exception to the rule.

Once they reached the ashtray and the contact between them dissipated, he breathed a little easier, although the loss of her warmth was almost staggering in the brisk cold of the night.

While he was standing there like a worthless log, Lily pulled a gold cigarette case from her handbag and drew out a Sobranie. Purple, this time. Naturally, being the ass of a gentleman that he was, William produced a lighter with the speed of a desperate man and held up the flame to her. He tried convincing himself it was simply the proper thing to do, but in truth, he was itching for an excuse to get closer.

And it was worth it.

Lily’s thick, dark lashes fell like black crescent moons across her cheeks as she leaned down and brought the tip of her cigarette to the ember. There were hints of freckles scattered across her nose, testifying to a summer lived out in the sun. He swallowed.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

From her long manicured fingernails to the plump lips, painted a come-fuck-me shade of elegant orange. There was an air of Old Hollywood around her, but the vintage touch was mixed with something more modern. Edgier. And he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d seen in his whole bloody life.

Lighting his own cigarette to take his mind off the impossible strain in his pants, William inhaled deeply, then trailed his gaze across the starlit sky. For once, London decided not to throw buckets of rain when he had to spend the evening outside. It was almost hard not to take it as a sign.

“How do you like the exhibition so far?” he asked, even when it wasn’t the actual question he wanted to pose.

Sadly, Can I press you against the wall? just wasn’t going to cut it.

“Truthfully?” Lily’s green eyes glistened with amusement and a dash of guilt. “I haven’t been able to move away from yours.”

It was a line he’d heard numerous times before in some form or another, but the way she said it—William believed her.

“So it isn’t as darkly brooding as Bram put it?” he teased.

“Oh, it is.” She chuckled before flashing him a broad smile. “But that’s precisely what I love about it. I don’t think the whole beauty is in the eye of the beholder thing had ever manifested itself quite as clearly as in those images. I know your work has always been touched by an almost eerie presence of death and loss, but what I saw tonight… It went deeper than that.”

She nibbled on her lip, cigarette smoke trailing from her raised hand.

“Go on,” he prompted softly, adoring how her shyness seemed to disappear when discussing art.

Lily looked up at him and inhaled sharply. “The one with the broken crystal, for example. The way that lone ray of dawn seems captured, trapped in it, as if the damage made it impossible for it to escape and illuminate the icy land… It’s haunting. But beautiful.”

Silence stretched between them as her words lingered in the air.

William had been branded as morbid. Too dark or moody. And none of those people had meant it as a compliment. Not even Bram.

Then again, pop art and William’s own visions rarely mixed. As for the rest—he could understand why people leaned towards the brighter aspects of life. Or the real and brutal, when they needed a reminder of just how better off they were, the wankers.

But what drove him behind the lens again and again was the dreamlike aesthetic of the unknown and feared. The mysticism and nightmares.

His mother always did tell him he had a dark heart.

He looked at Lily with her polished appearance and brightly painted lips, her words still resonating in his mind…

Maybe he was a morbid sod. But for the first time, he felt it might not be such a bad thing, after all.

Undoubtedly noticing his blunt attention, Lily shifted on her feet, her heels creating a sweet little sound that nearly made him groan out loud. The tip of her cigarette flared orange-red as she inhaled, then slowly released the smoke, her piercing gaze locking on his again.

Yes, he was still staring.

“If I had to give an overall impression,” she ventured gently, “I would say the images have a certain Sleepy Hollow feel to them.”

The smile was there before William could control it. As was the rush of excitement.

“Irwing was my inspiration for the exhibition. No one noticed it so far.”

“I’m sure if you’d stayed inside instead of sneaking off with me”—she lifted an amused eyebrow—“someone would have brought it up eventually.”

William took an involuntary step closer. “I doubt it.”

His words came out curter than he intended them to be, but Lily didn’t flinch away. Her gaze remained firmly on his, the way she held her head slightly tilted up making her lips even more inviting. He brushed a loose strand of her hair away from her face, then trailed a single finger down her jaw, reveling in the subtle tremors that followed in the wake of his caress.

“Who are you, Lily Summers?” he whispered, cupping her face. “What do you want?”

He didn’t know what lunacy had possessed him to utter the question. He’d been the one who dragged her out here. Who had been unable to walk by the previous night without at least saying something.

But as Lily leaned into his touch, he was grateful he’d asked.

“Are you certain you want to hear the answer, William?” Her voice dropped down to a sultry purr.

Fucking hell… His breaths deepened, and with the amount of blood rushing to his cock, it was a miracle he hadn’t toppled over.

But he bloody well wanted to hear the answer. Just so that he could bloody well kiss her already.

That small part of him that hadn’t lost its senses entirely, however, stopped him before he could act. If he let whatever this was go any further, he would be well and truly done for.

Still, stepping back seemed impossible now, with the warmth of her skin falling upon his.

Christ, he was losing it. He was drawn to a woman he hardly knew anything about beyond her name. He hadn’t even spent enough time in her company to come up with an illusion for him to fall in love with.

So why did he believe what he was feeling was more than just carnal attraction? How could he kiss her when it was so bloody obvious he would want to see her again? And not just once.

“I don’t do casual, love,” he whispered, his thumb circling her smooth skin. “And you don’t want to step into my life right now.”

The stack of papers waiting on his desk. The warning emails from his lawyer, explaining Trisha was intent to crap all over him in any way possible now that he’d finally got her to vacate his flat. He’d be nothing more than a rank bastard to pull an innocent into that mess.

Court appearances. His ex materializing randomly at the pub next door. The calls. The texts. But most of all, he wasn’t sure if he had anything of himself left to offer.

Not that it stopped him from wanting to.

Without taking her eyes off him, Lily inched forward. “Then why are you still touching me?”

There was no scorn or malice in her voice. Nothing forceful either. Just curiosity.

Shit, anything else, and he would have walked away.

He should walk away, even now.

Instead, William obliterated the empty space gaping between them, their bodies almost touching, and flicked his burnt-down cigarette into the darkness. Whatever voice of reason had yapped at him earlier fell silent, drawn by her warmth, that faint scent of perfume. By her.

It was all her.

A presence he not only failed to resist, but one that made him feel… Hell, he didn’t even know what it was, but it was peaceful. Safe. Even when his body was just about ready to rip itself apart to get to her.

With a half smile on his lips, he fumbled with the high collar of Lily’s coat, turning it up as a cold wind howled around the edge of the gallery. She was still waiting for her answer, but her gaze was now on his mouth instead of his eyes, a deep, low fire burning in that fascinating green.

Could she really want him?

Would she still want him if she knew how tainted he was?

Hell…

His cock strained against his pants, the hunger he thought he’d never experience again burning through his veins and wreaking havoc on his mind.

“Do you wish to kiss me, William?” she said with a slight Irish lilt he hadn’t noticed before.

As he grappled for a way to convince himself the answer was no, she took another step closer and crushed that last bit of distance, their bodies now perfectly aligned. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and William had no doubt she must have felt every hard inch of how badly she turned him on.

But Lily surprised him once again.

She didn’t make a move as he’d half expected her to, didn’t act on the desire his treacherous body made so bloody evident. She simply cast away her cigarette, then ran her fingers down the length of his arms before slowly, so fucking slowly made her way up again.

When her touch finally came to a stop on his shoulders, he was practically ready to come.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she whispered, a silent, fierce determination underlining the light tremors in her voice. “I won’t hold you to some imaginary promise you never made. Just a kiss, nothing more. If you want it.”