Free Nightbloom by Juliette Cross Page A

hard kiss, prying my lips apart and stroking in deep. His hand wrapping my thigh squeezed a little tighter as he eased back, his heated gaze surely a mirror of my own. “But I’d better wait.”
    I said nothing in reply, my brain fuzzy from the moment of passion. The first time I’d ever forgotten myself and fallen into such a moment.
    “You’re so beautiful, Ella.”
    My eyes fell, marveling at his large tan hand still gripping my pale thigh. The artist in me loved the contrast. A sudden, naughty thought flitted through my mind, that our skin tones were complimentary and would make the most perfect lovers for an artist’s canvas—bodies entwined, hard and soft, fair and dark.
    “I love the way you blush so much.”
    “I’m blushing?”
    “Profusely.”
    He kissed me. Sweetly. Slowly.
    I arched a brow at him. “Is this part of the salary or just one of the perks of the job?”
    He laughed. “No, angel. In this, you own me, not the other way around.” His expression became solemn all of a sudden. He curved a hand over one cheek. “It’s true, you know? I’m afraid to admit it, but I can’t help it. Something about you makes me want to tell you everything. Give you everything.”
    Deep brown eyes captured me, showing a vulnerability I never thought to see there. I swallowed the lump in my throat. He knew I was incapable of responding. He lifted me off the desk, sliding my skirt back into place, his grave expression fading behind his charming one.
    “Interview is over.”
    “Do you interview all your employees in this fashion? Or am I getting special treatment?” My tone was teasing, but part of me wanted to ensure I wasn’t one of many.
    “Special treatment, of course.”
    “Of course,” I said, noting the slight dip in my voice, hoping he couldn’t hear the doubt inherent there.
    He leaned across the desk, picked up my portfolio, and handed it to me. With one finger, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’re special beyond compare, Ella. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
    He brushed his index finger across my cheekbone, then dropped his hand to twine his fingers with mine and guide me out the door.
    “Elsibeta can get you started, let you get acquainted with the office. Do you remember how you came in?” he asked with a gesture down the hall.
    “Yes, but I thought—”
    He planted a soft kiss on my lips, then headed swiftly in the other direction toward an outer exit door. His wings raised as if readying for flight.
    “Wait. You’re leaving? Where are you going?”
    “Things to do, pretty Ella.” He stopped at the exit and winked at me. “I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
    My heart skipped a beat. I heard him whistling as he disappeared through the door.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Descending the marble staircase, voices floated up from the front parlor. My mother’s high-pitched laughter echoed through the halls. I’d been preoccupied all afternoon preparing for my date with Paxon, so I hadn’t been aware of my parents’ evening plans.
    Paxon had called at the gallery before I left, giving me an address, a time, and telling me to dress warmly. After what felt like hours, standing in my closet and staring at my wardrobe, I finally decided on tight-fitting black pants, a gray, button-up cashmere sweater, and my dark red, double-breasted wool coat. Glimpsing myself in the wall-mirror in the foyer, I liked that my blond braid wrapped neatly over one shoulder into a golden rope against the red. My nerves were out of control. I’d fussed over myself so long, wanting to look just right for him. Still, the effort seemed to be worth it. I gave myself an approving nod before heading into the front parlor to say goodnight to my parents before I stepped out.
    Clayton stood next to my father, who clapped him on the shoulder before heading toward the arched entrance where I remained frozen in place.
    “You two have a nice night.” Dad smiled down at me, placed a kiss on my crown, then