Force of Forever (All In #0.5)

Ghislaine squeezed her, clearly delighted. “Enjoy, you two. Mattias, let me know when you leave, and don’t be such a stranger.” With a regal little bow, she left them.

“Merci, Ghislaine,” he called after her.

He waited until her footsteps could no longer be heard, then Matt turned to the tiny woman who had taken over his world. At least for tonight.

Pia’s eyes bathed him in dark heat.

Finally, they were alone.

5

Pia could not believe her luck. Just a few hours before, she’d been facing a long flight full of unhappy thoughts. Her career, her future, once so shiny and sure, had started to feel more like a heavy mistake of her own making. At twenty-three, she was pretty sure she was entering a quarter-life crisis, a fact that garnered both teasing and pity from her family, and anger from herself. She should have gone to fricking college.

But then she’d looked into ocean eyes, and her view had changed.

Her future, everything past tonight, was still dark and uncertain. The next few hours, though, blazed bright in her mind.

If she could just get poor Matt to stay present. He was either scrolling through his phone, typing texts with one finger, which she found adorable, or staring at her. It was as if the truly stunning art surrounding them had no effect on him. He seemed more drawn to her form than any of the nude, sprawling, angsty, or entwined figures around them.

They hadn’t spoken much. The only sounds were her heels on the parquet floor and the happy sighs that escaped her lips as she drank in famous works of art she’d seen only on screens. When she caught Matt’s gaze on her again, she spoke up.

“You look like you’re waiting for a call from the president.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Whichever one is worse.”

He chuckled. “It’s just work.”

She studied him overEternal Springtime, two lovers ensconced in bronze. Breasts pressed into naked chest, legs tangled, a desperate arm swept under the woman’s back to hold her close. Passion unleashed.

“I don’t like to keep my investors waiting,” he explained.

“You have investors? People trust you with their money?”

As wealthy and capable as Matt seemed to be, the man was still in his twenties, after all.

“They do.”

No arrogant smirk or even an eyebrow raise.Great. She hoped he wasn’t so good at everything. Hopefully he burned toast or was a terrible tipper. She couldn’t find everything about him attractive.

She certainly didn’t love how he didn’t seem to be able to relax. His idea of fun, explained in the past tense only, had beencemeteries, for goodness sakes. Pia had made the conscious decision to set aside her caution, her guilt, her fears for the night. He should, too.

She rounded the statue and tucked her arm into his. She had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. His smooth lips called to her own like a siren, but she ignored the song. Even when his teeth tucked the luscious bottom lip into his mouth. “Consider this adventure we’re on as an investment in your happiness, then, since numbers are a language you like to speak. Spend the next few hours with me, just me, for you. See how that feels.”

“With you, for me,” he repeated. Matt nodded slowly, seemingly considering the concept. “I can do that.”

He slipped his phone back into his slacks as if to prove his dedication. He nudged her hand down his arm into his own. The intimacy of their palms sliding together threw her heart open wide. Clearing her throat, she pulled him along, eager to see everything the museum had to offer.

They stopped in front ofThe Kiss,the work that had endeared Rodin to her to begin with. She’d always been a romantic, and being raised steeped in religion meant the art that filled her home and church held very different subject matter than that in front of them. Another pair of lovers. Pia was surprised to find she didn’t love the statue in person as much as she thought she would. Though naked, the kiss between these two seemed chaste. Studied, even. Lacking fire. The man’s fingers barely grazed the woman’s thigh. There were no toes curled in pleasure.

The opposite of what a kiss with Matt would involve, Pia thought. His body would be warm, his touch crushing yet kind. Even though he stood still next to her, waiting for her next move or thought, she knew he’d tear down walls to get to her. He’d do whatever he needed to find her pleasure. Matt would be no sterileKiss. Matt would beEternal Springtime: utterly consuming.

“Pia.” His deep voice in the silence flung heat through her veins. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we’re never going to make it through your list.” She vaguely registered that his hand had become a vice grip on hers. “I am already tempted—so tempted—to skip to the end. Don’t let me.”

“The Thinker,” she blurted out.

Matt squeezed her hand again, more gently this time. “Thank you.”