Full Exposure(20)
Author: Tracy Wolff

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.

A pleasant ache started between her thighs as she imagined Kevin bent over with his incredible ass in the air. What would he do if she walked up and squeezed it before moving on to even more interesting body parts?

Probably bite her hand off. While he was usually more than willing to let her touch him any way and anytime she wanted, Kevin had a tendency to be downright prickly where his work was involved. Unless you counted museum openings as part of his work.

Her eyes drifted shut as she remembered just how many times she had come the night before. While the photography museum had been truly inspired—and she was taking full credit for that—Kevin had more than matched her in creativity and enthusiasm.

He’d fingered her in the Impressionist room, so long and so well that she’d come three times and hadn’t been able to walk for a good ten minutes afterward. He’d lured her into the second-floor conference room and taken her from behind despite her fear of discovery. She’d had to bite her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from screaming his name as he’d pounded into her again and again. And when they got to the limo, he’d instructed the driver to give her a tour of the city, though she hadn’t seen much at all during the ride. The second the doors closed, Kevin dropped to his knees and went down on her for the entire ride—she’d lost count of how many times she’d cli**xed by the time the car finally pulled into the hotel’s driveway.

Serena’s n**ples peaked and she grew wet before she could stop herself. Not for the first time, she wondered what Kevin had done to her. She never acted like this, never had sex in public—let alone twice in one day. And while she had a very healthy fantasy life, her sex life had been somewhat lacking before she’d met him. Though she’d dated, she had trouble lowering her guard enough to really enjoy sex, always worried about maintaining control of herself and her environment. Always frightened of trusting a man enough to be vulnerable in his presence. That was a fear Kevin blasted out of the water, at least when they were in bed together. Or anywhere else, for that matter—as long as some part of him was inside some part of her.

A cloud moved across the sky, momentarily obscuring the sun and Serena shivered despite herself as her thoughts turned bleakly away from Kevin. She’d done a good job of ignoring everything but work and her new lover, but Damien was always there in the back of her mind. Especially when she could have sworn she’d caught a glimpse of his brother at the gallery opening last night. But when she’d turned to look, Michael had been gone and it was easier to put it down to paranoia than to try to deal with it.

Better to focus on Kevin and the fact that he made her happier then she’d been in the last ten and a half years. It was a happiness tempered by guilt; she couldn’t do anything about that. After all, how was she supposed to feel about finding contentment when her sister’s murderer was free? How could she enjoy her life when Sandra was dead?

She’d spent more than ten years living in a kind of penitential limbo—trying to gain some kind of forgiveness for living while her twin had died—and though she knew it wasn’t healthy she wasn’t sure she was willing to let those feelings go. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t sure she was able to let the guilt go. How could she just forget Sandra and move on with her life like nothing had ever happened?

Deep in thought, Serena glanced up at the Matthias Building and everything inside of her froze for a moment. This was it. This was the picture she wanted. Not the shadows cast by a brilliant sun, but those cast by one dwarfed with clouds. Here was the mystery and the awe. She groped for her camera, brought it to her face, and shot. Again and again. But the angle wasn’t quite right so she stood and backed up, step by step, frame by frame, until she had what she wanted.

She took the picture, wound the film, took another one, oblivious to everything but her art and the satisfaction rushing through her. This was it. She knew it. She snapped another picture.

“Serena, look out!” She was so focused that Kevin’s voice invaded her consciousness slowly, despite the urgency in it. A scream sounded behind her and suddenly she was flying through the air, Kevin’s arms hard around her. He twisted in midair so that he took the brunt of the fall and then she was on the pavement, struggling to take a breath into lungs that had totally shut down on impact.

* * *

He was shaking so badly he could barely hold the steering wheel. That had been stupid. Irresponsible. Weak when he knew better than to show the slightest hint of weakness.

He didn’t know what had come over him. This was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Gather information. Observe Serena and the bayou rat. Make plans to get close to her. But his first sight of her had driven all those plans out of his head. Rage—burning hotter than any he’d ever felt before—had coursed through him as he remembered how she’d looked last night.

She’d been gorgeous—the most beautiful woman in the room. Sparkling so brightly that she’d overshadowed every other woman there. And it had all been for him. The insult, the disgust, was almost more than he could bear. She’d been so wrapped up in that laborer that she’d hardly known anyone else was in the room. And worse, she’d let him touch her—right there, in the open, where anyone could see.

They’d thought they were alone, had thought they’d succeeded in sneaking away from the crowd. But he’d seen them … and followed.

Sweat beaded on his brow, then rolled down his cheek as he remembered how she’d looked straddling that bench. Her legs spread and her f**king beautiful cunt wide open to his starving eyes. How he’d wanted to grab her, to thrust his huge, pulsing dick inside of her and f**k her until she begged him to stop.

But he hadn’t done it, couldn’t bear to think of f**king her when she stunk of another man. Because she’d been spread for his benefit. The filthy rat had had his disgusting fingers inside of her, right there under the priceless Monets that hung in the Impressionist room. It had been Riley who had whispered obscenities in her ear, Riley who had held her while she came again and again. Her skin flushing pink, her cunt clenching around him and glistening with the power of her release.

The pain hit him hard and fast, so fast that he nearly blacked out before he could temper it. Only the loud honking of the cars next to him as he swerved into the right lane kept him conscious. With effort—great effort—he blocked out the pain and focused, once again, on righting the car and getting back to the hotel safely.

He concentrated on his breathing. Slow, deep breaths. Even breaths. One after the other. Again and again and again until he got the anger—and the pain—under control. Control was the secret. Control kept him sane.

He pulled into the valet parking, stumbled into the hotel without waiting for one of the valets to hand him a ticket. Just a little farther. A few more steps to get to the elevator. A few floors to get to his suite. He could make it. He had to, as losing control in front of all these people wasn’t an option.

He lumbered into the elevator, counting the seconds as it sped toward the fifteenth floor. He lurched out, shuffling down the hall until he all but fell against the door. He fumbled for his card, slid it into the lock and then he was inside. Safe. Free.

Whimpering, he careened toward the bar where he grabbed his pill bottle. He wrenched it open and the pills spilled everywhere, but he didn’t care. He grabbed two—no three—and tossed them back with a few large swallows of the Glenlivit Scotch sitting on the bar.

Then he threw back his head and howled, the pain in his head—the agony of Serena’s betrayal—searing through him until oblivion, blessed oblivion, came and he slumped, unconscious, on the gray carpet.

* * *

She could see Kevin’s concerned face, could hear the sound of tires squealing in the background and excited chatter coming from the rapidly gathering crowd, but she couldn’t respond. Eyes wide, hands clenched into fists, her entire focus was on trying to take a breath. Seconds that felt like minutes passed before she finally could. She gasped, hand to her chest, as she greedily sucked in air, relishing the feel of her lungs inflating.

When she was finally able to speak, Serena asked, “What happened? Why did you hit me like that?”