Free High Stakes Seduction - Book 5 by Ami LeCoeur

pulled him closer, leaning into his manhood, pressing myself against the throbbing I could feel building even as I shamelessly rubbed myself against him.
    He took my face in his hands, staring into my eyes and leaning in to kiss me. I opened my lips to accept the sweetness of his mouth, when I heard a jangling behind me.
    Suddenly the door swung open. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to… to interrupt," stammered a bald-headed man with glasses. "My wife. She sent me. Um, she um, needs her shawl. Please excuse me." He reached to a hook on the wall, giving us an embarrassed nod as he stepped back out of the tiny room.
     

Chapter Twenty-Seven
    ANGELA
     
    I pulled away from Antonio when the door opened. Now I stood there, looking at his sultry face, feeling like a kid who was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Someone else's cookie jar , I reminded myself, seeing Naomi's face in my mind.
    I put my hand to my mouth, feeling the slightly swollen heat from the kiss my lips had just received.
    "Tony, I… "
    "What is it, Cara?" he asked softly.
    "Will you excuse me? I need the ladies room." I reached for the doorknob, twisting it quickly in my haste to get out of the suddenly too small, too intimate space.
    Oh my god, what was I thinking? Nothing has changed, has it? He’s still the one in control. The one with power; the one with the magnetic charm. I cursed myself as I headed toward the ladies room. Will I ever learn?
    Stepping through the door, I suddenly remembered my previous experience here. How out of place I'd been. The women sitting on the couches, gossiping among themselves. I stepped to the counter, turning on the faucet. Maybe splashing some water on my face would bring me back to my senses.
    "Hello ma’am," came a voice from the corner. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
    I looked over and immediately recognized the kindly attendant who had been so understanding the first time I had been in the room.
    "No, I'm okay," I smiled. "But thank you."
    "Haven't I seen you here before?" she asked, eying me up and down.
    "Yes, I was here for the exhibit of fashion costumes a few months back."
    "I remember. You were concerned about that cliquish group of madams in the other room. Girl, I don't know what you done, but you don't hardly look like the same lady. Been some transforming I'd say." She smiled at me.
    I stared at myself in the mirror. Had I changed that much? I certainly didn't feel like the same person, but it was hard to know if that showed on the outside. Apparently it did. At least to some people. I dabbed at my face, drying it without smudging my make-up too much. Then I took a deep breath.
    "Thank you," I told the woman. "Tonight I'm here for my sister. She's one of the artists."
    "Really? Which one?"
    "The landscapes. In the Poplar room."
    "Oh, the big, wide open views. Kinda makes me want to travel." She grinned at me. " 'Cept I'm a homebody. I like knowing where I'm from and where I belong. Makes me feel safe."
    That would be nice, I thought, looking back at my reflection in the mirror. After the accident, I used to think I belonged with Maria. But so many things had changed—for me and for her. I certainly knew where I was from, but I had no idea where I was going.
     

Chapter Twenty-Eight
    ANGELA
     
    As I made my way back through the foyer, I looked around, remembering what it was like the last time I was there. It didn't look much different, the guests were distinguished looking without being stuffy. They seemed enchanted within the comfortable circle of the gallery, gathered into small groups of two and three at a time, chatting and laughing.
    I stuck my head into a couple of the wings on my way back to the Poplar room, hoping to get a glimpse of the other artists. The Willow room was filled with small sculptures, most of them appeared to be brass, unusual shapes that looked like little sea creatures and mermaids.
    The Oak room had a large abstract painting, with splashes of garish