Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding #2.5)(35)

Chyna was still in Marco’s one-of-a- kind dress when they finally made it back to his apartment. It was immaculately clean and well designed. Marco had a taste for antiques and furnished his apartment in ancient old relics from centuries past. Above all, Chyna coveted the priceless artwork gilded in large gold frames, depicting far-off countrysides, sky-high cathedrals, and the elegance and poise of beautiful women. The whole place was gorgeous and tasteful as if you were walking into a Duke’s parlor from the seventeenth century rather than a fashion designer’s home in the twenty-first century.

She trailed her hand along the grand piano in the living room, her fingers skimming across the white and black–tiled keys. The noise drew Marco’s attention, and she happened to glance in his direction. When their eyes met, he walked over to her. He leaned her backward against the keys, releasing a cacophony from the beautiful instrument.

“Are we going to have a Pretty Woman moment?” she asked, not holding in her giggle.

“Hmm?” he asked against her neck as his knee spread her legs.

“The movie,” she said. When he didn’t acknowledge it, she explained, “I’m your hooker, and you take me across the piano at the hotel?”

“Sounds appealing. I’ve never been with a hooker.”

“Or, against a piano?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, grasping her jaw firmly in his hand. “If you’re my hooker, do I have to pay you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Aren’t you already?”

“Not for sex.”

“You’ll never have to. I’d do whatever you want anyway.”

“Good,” he said, running his hand down between her legs as he pressed against her. “Was the car enough for you?”

She slowly shook her head. She already knew he wasn’t done with her, and she was desperate for more. “No.”

Marco loosened his tie, pulling the knot out, and slipping it from beneath his collar. “That’s right. You’ll have enough when I say you have.”

Adrenaline pumped through her body at the sound of that. She was aching for him already, and they had just finished in the car. In that instant, she was able to forget everything that had happened earlier in the night. She could forget about the other models, about Natasha, who was the old American centerpiece Marco had thrown aside, about the Corsa job offer, about her addiction to powerful men, and she could even forget about missing Adam. All she was thinking about was the easiest way to get him inside of her again.

He placed his tie across her eyes to obscure her vision, submitting her into darkness. She felt him wrap it around her head, tying it into a perfect knot in the back. Her body was working in overdrive from the loss of one of her senses. She slowly reached out and touched the front of his button-up shirt to ground herself.

“I love when you’re blindfolded, star,”

he whispered into her ear, causing her to jump at his nearness. He laughed softly, trailing a hand over her exposed collarbone down to the curve of her br**sts that peeked out from the sweetheart neck of his gorgeous dress.

Gripping behind her knees, he hoisted her legs around his waist. The piano chorused a new round of music as she pressed down on the keys to steady herself. She never knew what to expect, and the debilitating effects of the blindfold only intensified her anticipation. He placed his hands on her ass, lifting her up into his arms, and she gently wrapped her hands around his neck.

“Where are we going?” she whispered into his ear.

“Now, now, hold your questions until after the movie.”

She tried to judge where they were headed in the massive apartment, but since she wasn’t walking and she couldn’t see a thing, she lost all sense of direction. They could have been anywhere, and she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait and see.

Her back landed on a soft comforter, and she immediately wondered if they had reached the master suite. She loved his room with its big dark wooden furniture, including a larger-than-life bed draped in the finest gold silk sheets hidden under an embroidered navy comforter stuffed with the softest goose feathers. She had spent many a nights thrown about in that gorgeous bed, yet something about this one was different. Despite not being able to see, she could still feel the difference.

Unless he had replaced the mattress recently, this one was not the master bed.

God, she had so many questions, but she remained tight-lipped, wanting nothing more than to find out what was going on.

“Without disturbing that blindfold, move up until your head hits a pillow,”

Marco directed authoritatively.

Chyna did as he commanded, trying to make it up the bed without messing up her million-dollar dress. When her head found purchase, she sighed, falling backward into the pillow. It was comforting and reassuring, and she needed that for whatever Marco had in store.

She heard a soft beep, and then Marco’s footsteps moved from the foot of the bed up to the top. He reached out and stroked her dark hair, back across her br**sts, down her stomach that was still thinly covered by the sheer material, across the exposed sensitive skin between her legs, and back again. Her body was pulsing with desire. She wished he would just take her already, but she knew the waiting—him drawing it out like this— would only make it better.

A soft leather cuff encircled her small wrist. When she pulled on it, it didn’t give, and she realized she was trapped.