Free The Art of Redemption by Ella Dominguez

Chapter 1
    Dylan
    Long legs draped over a man’s shoulders. Hands bound in rope across a woman’s belly. An indecipherable man’s face smudged out by acrylic paint the color of the Atlantic Ocean. Every last detail of the painting Dylan was looking at was a God damn beautiful sight . The bright overhead lamps bathed not only the image, but the room, with light, banishing the shadows and making all the glorious, fine details of it pop. The artist’s name scribbled at the bottom: Constantine. Dylan had never heard of him, but what he was looking at was worth far more than the price tag attached to it.
    His irises zoomed in on the bindings around the woman’s wrists and an inexplicable sense of curiosity surged through him. If only he could experience that kind of power over a woman… He laced his fingers together behind his back and his gaze shifted from the mysterious man’s blank face to the rope again. There was certain je ne sais quoi about the work of art. Without a doubt it was erotic, but it was more than that. It was intriguing. Even… inspiring .
    He reached out and touched the corner of the canvas lovingly. When he felt another person’s eyes on him, a rush of heat crept up his neck from embarrassment at being caught finger fucking the artwork.
    “Are you into this sort of thing?”
    A female’s soft yet commanding voice interrupted what should have been a quiet night out for him. It wasn’t often he got a day off from work and having just gotten back from eighteen weeks of field training, he was exhausted both mentally and physically. Christ almighty, couldn’t he spend his twenty-third birthday in peace and fucking silence?
    He stared ahead, his ice blue eyes scanning the image once more as he answered blandly, “What do you think? I’m in an art gallery looking at art…”
    Her response came quickly and cut his answer short. “I wasn’t referring to the art.”
    “I know what you were referring to,” he replied coolly without facing her.
    “So are you?”
    Fucking hell she was persistent. Irritated, he turned his head and lifted a condescending eyebrow. When her slender form came into view, he adjusted his stance and attitude, but only slightly. She was at least ten years his senior. Not that it mattered. She was gorgeous, though not in the usual way that he was adapted to. Her attractiveness was much more appealing than the young, immature women he was accustomed to spending his time with. She was tall and with her four inch heels, she stood eye-to-eye with him, her espresso-colored gaze staring at him intensely. Her dark hair was neatly braided down her back and the scent of her expensive perfume assaulted and tantalized his senses. Her figure was that of a woman who worked out often and her skin the color of someone who enjoyed basking in the warmth of the sun. As his eyes roamed over her body, he couldn’t help but wonder what color lingerie she was wearing underneath her conservative black, pin-striped skirt. That is, if she was wearing any at all.
    The corners of her lips were curled upward into a smile and she appeared pleased with herself , and though her looks were appealing, there was something about her expression that grated on his nerves. He couldn’t put his finger on why; perhaps because it was like looking into a mirror.
    The question was still lingering in the air w hen she reached into her wristlet, pulled out a business card and slipped it into the pocket of his black blazer while giving him a secret smile.
    “If you ever get the urge to try what’s on that painting, stop by the Dark Asylum. Monday’s are open to the public. Tell Kerian that Catalina sent you.”
    With that, she gave him one last silent examination starting at his mouth and moving downward. When her eyes came to rest on the crotch of his pants, the corner of her cherry-red lips lifted upward as her face lit up.
    “I do ho pe you find the time to stop by.”
    As she walked away, he became entranced with