Free Surrender by Metsy Hingle Page A

restless tiger.“I want you in my life, Aimee. If it means breaking my own rule about not mixing business with pleasure to keep you there, then I’ll do it.”
    Her continued silenoe unnerved him, made him edgy. Whipping around, he strode back the few feet and stopped in front of her. “Hell, if you want me to do a private showing of your paintings, then I’ll do that, too,” he offered, calling himself an idiot, ten times a fool, for doing so. He knew he would do it again if it meant restoring the laughter in her eyes that he had stolen. “You want a break? I’m giving it to you. If you want to be a star, I’ll make you one. In exchange, you’ll sign a contract granting me exclusivity on your work, and you’ll give me your promise not to shut me out of your life on a personal basis until we both agree that the affair’s over.” He took a deep breath. “Deal?”
    “Oh, Peter,” she whispered. Her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, she stroked his jaw with her fingertips.
    Peter shuddered beneath her touch. He pulled her to him, his mouth hovering above hers. His heart pounded an uncountable beat as his body responded to her nearness.
    Desire flickered like a flame in the depths of her ghost blue eyes, and Aimee parted her lips.
    It was all the encouragement he needed. God help him, Peter thought as he took her mouth hungrily. He wouldn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her go.
    Not yet.
    Not before she had agreed to sell the building to him.
    And not before he had found a way to assuage this fierce hunger that only she aroused in him.
    Breathless from Peter’s kisses, her head spinning, her body throbbing, Aimee turned her head away before he could claim her mouth again. “Peter,” she gasped when his tongue flicked the shell of her ear. “We need to talk.”
    “I don’t want to talk. Things only get mixed up when we talk,” he murmured, kissing the edge of her jaw.
    She could feel herself growing weak under his relentless assault on her senses. “Fine. Then I’ll talk,” she managed,despite the fact that his attack had moved to the sensitive spot beneath her chin, just at the base of her neck.
    “I’d rather you kissed me,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.
    Fighting the urge to turn her mouth to him, Aimee bit her bottom lip as his tongue traced the path where his mouth had just been. “The answer’s no. No deal.”
    His attention moved back along her jawline, drawing dangerously close to her mouth.
    “I can’t accept your offer,” she told him.
    Peter paused, as though her words had finally penetrated.
    Aimee used the opportunity to regain some control over her senses. She chanced a look at his face, watched as he struggled to free himself of the passion.
    At least she never had to doubt his passion for her, Aimee told herself, seeking some consolation in that simple fact. Peter’s proposal of marriage might not have been driven by his love for her, just as his offer to represent her art had not stemmed from any appreciation he had for her work, but his passion for her was genuine. Of that much she was sure.
    “Use your head, Aimee. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime. It’s a great deal more than Stephen Edmond or anyone else will offer you. I meant what I said. I’ll make you a star.”
    She offered him a smile then. “I’ve never wanted to be a star, Peter. Only a working artist”
    “And I’m giving you the chance to be that.”
    “But not for the right reasons.” Aimee sighed as the shuttered expression came back into his eyes. “How can you offer to represent my work, to make me a star, as you say, when you don’t even believe in me or my work?”
    “I don’t need to believe in your work, or even like it, to make you a star.”
    “Maybe not. But that’s what I want. Someone who thinks I have talent. Someone who sees something special in my work…who is touched by it.”
    “You mean someone like Jacques?” Peter asked, an edge in his voice.
    “Yes. And