Free Something Reckless by Jess Michaels Page A

saw.
    Jeremy had started collecting these pieces five years ago, when a friend returned from India with a few shocking statuettes that depicted couples intertwined in blatant acts of sexual hedonism. He’d bought one from his friend and immediately set out to find more erotic art.
    Over the years, he’d added paintings, some of which he had commissioned, and others that had simply caught his eye. He’d also taken an interest in other forms of art. Pottery engraved with scenes of lovemaking, silverwork whose handles depicted nude women or were phallic in nature.
    In a short time, he had gathered one of the most extensivecollections of such art in London. From time to time, he even allowed tours of the work.
    But this “tour,” with Penelope as his only guest, was his favorite so far. What she saw around her would have been scandalous to most women who had been raised to be “good” and “proper.” Certainly this room wasn’t one he shared with just any guest.
    This kind of art took a certain kind of personality to truly appreciate. He had thought Penelope would hardly be able to look at the statues and paintings, but to his very happy surprise, she did not cower.
    In fact, she stared openly. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her body was stiff as she lurched closer, but she couldn’t hide the rapt expression on her face as she moved toward the large marble statue that was the centerpiece of the room.
    He had commissioned that work a year ago and paid a very pretty penny for it. It featured a woman, long hair blowing back from her enraptured face. Her nude body was wrapped around the one of her marble lover. Her legs were clasped around his waist, his stone fingers pressed into her thigh, his mouth pressed to her breast. It was beautiful and arousing all at once.
    And whether she liked it or not, it was clear Penelope reacted the same way he did. She was enraptured. With a shiver, she turned toward him, her face a flaming red, her blue eyes cast anywhere but his.
    “What is the purpose of showing me these-these things?” she asked. “Is this a game to you?”
    Jeremy swallowed back a chuckle. Sometimes it did seem like they were playing a game. A complicated chess match where she maneuvered and he countered, but neither one gained ground.But he could feel her defenses wavering, and it was only a matter of time before he put her in checkmate.
    “Of course not,” he lied, doing his best to sound affronted. “When I approached you, I told you I could safely expose you to the underbelly of the Society that you wish to fight against. I’ve lived it for most of my life, and I am intimately acquainted with it. You agreed that you would like to see that underbelly firsthand, so that you could be better equipped to battle it. Have you changed your mind?”
    She shook her head, but there was hesitation in her movements. Subtle, but undeniable. Penelope was beginning to question her fight, question herself .
    “I cannot change my mind now,” she murmured, turning back to stare at the intertwined lovers and their passionate embrace.
    “Do you wish to?” he asked, his own voice as low as her own.
    She looked at him over her shoulder and his stomach clenched. Dear God, she had no idea how alluring she was in that position. Little strands of blond hair curled around her pink cheeks, framing her face. Would her face be that pink if he was gliding in and out of her slick body as he bent her over the marble statue?
    Damn, how he’d like to find out.
    “No,” she said, this time more firmly.
    She smoothed her gown and it seemed that the questioning he had sensed in her bled away. Covered, at least temporarily, by the stern, cold exterior Penelope presented to most of the world around her.
    “Tell me, does every gentleman in your position have such a gallery?” she asked, sidestepping the statue and moving to look at the paintings.
    Jeremy laughed. “I know of a few collectors, but nothing as extensive as this. I