The Jewel of His Collection by Fae Mallory Page A

soft under her fingers as she yanked him down, his mouth colliding with her.
    Ian laughed against her lips, and then his arms went around her. “I knew it,” he murmured, not giving her a chance to respond before he seized her mouth again, his tongue sweeping over her lips in a demanding caress.
    She’d daydreamed about kissing Ian, but Violet had never dreamed that it would feel like this. His hard body was tight against hers as he tilted her back, supporting her weight with ease and forcing her to cling to his broad shoulders as his tongue slipped between her parted lips, stroking against her own.
    He plundered her as if he owned her, and all Violet could do was moan as she yielded to his tender assault. Ian was everywhere, exploring every inch of her mouth as if she were a mystery to be solved. He found a spot on the roof of her mouth that made her body feel like it had been plunged into flames, and he laughed in triumph as he grazed it again and again, leaving her shaking with need.
    Before Violet knew what was happening, she found herself being lowered to the floor, Ian moving to kneel over her and hold her down with one hand on her shoulder as she struggled to sit up, the floor cold against her overheated body.
    “I hate your clothes.” His eyes were hooded and moody as he swept them over her gray swing dress. “You should never wear them.”
    “Never wear clothes?” she panted, trying to follow the conversation.
    He chuckled. “That would be a sight—the naked curator. You wouldn’t need my paintings then to attract a crowd. It’s a crime to hide breasts like yours.”
    Violet subsided with a noisy sigh as his hand covered her breast and squeezed. “That’s it, Violet. Just let go. Stop hiding.”
    With his command ringing in her ears, she didn’t protest when his hands went to the hem of her dress, pulling it off over her head and casting it aside as he looked down at her. Even knowing that he’d already seen her naked, Violet still blushed at his scrutiny, attempting to cover herself with her hands.
    “Oh no,” Ian chided, catching her wrists and pinning them to her sides. “Let me look.”
    Blushing, Violet turned her head to the side, not wanting to watch him look at her. This was nothing like her performance in his gallery. There she’d had a modicum of control over the situation. Now, even though they were in her museum, Violet felt utterly out of her depth. Whatever happened here was up to Ian. She’d take anything he was willing to give her.
    “No garter belt today? I’m disappointed,” he teased, tugging down her pantyhose. Violet kicked off her shoes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the red indents her nylons made in her plump flesh.
    “It’s for special occasions only,” she murmured, mostly just to have something to say.
    “This isn’t a special occasion?” Ian feigned a look of hurt, his sparkling eyes belying his downcast expression.
    Violet whimpered as he traced one long finger along the edge of her modest white lace bra. “Ian, please!”
    “Oh, yes.” His face was avid. “Let me hear you.”
    “Please!” she begged, beyond shame. “Ian, please. I want…I want…”
    She yelped as he flicked his fingers against her tightly budded nipples, writhing on the cold floor. “What do you want, Violet?” he asked, sounding infuriatingly calm.
    “You!” she moaned. “I want you. Ian, please.”
    “That’s all you had to say,” he assured her.
    When he took his hands off her, Violet moaned in protest, but when she realized he was taking his own clothes off, she considered it a sacrifice worth making. Ian’s long fingers made short work of his shirt buttons, and she watched as he cast the shirt aside, her eyes greedily taking in every inch of him.
    Ian’s body was a work of art, his muscles defined without being ostentatious. The sparse hair on his chest grew thicker as it disappeared beneath his belt line, and Violet’s lips tingled with the desire to follow that trail.