Page 89 of Unfolding Kiara

Seeing Kiara’s gorgeous face crumble at the sight of her mother’s painting stung my heart, but it soothed on its own when I noticed that her tears were happy tears. I rubbed her back when she gazed at the last painting, her amber eyes taking in each stroke and swirl of the paint.

I was captivated by her.

Kiara.

My Kiara.

Fuck, how badly I wanted her to be mine.

I clenched my jaw and tried to control the urge of spilling out how much I wanted her. Not just regarding her body, although I was very much in love with her shape. I wanted her the way I have always wanted her since I watched her apply cherry Chapstick on her first date with that asshole Paul who broke her heart when she was thirteen. I had hated the way she had dressed up for him and wanted to take her for an ice cream date with me instead.

But I knew I couldn’t have her. So, I would rather cherish these brief moments with her and do anything to see that beautiful smile on her lips with a dimple. I would capture these moments in my heart and my mind until the sun turns to dust.

“Ethan.” I looked down at her, her golden-brown eyes glowing. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her waist. “You don’t have to thank me, Bella. It’s getting cold in here.” I turned to see if anyone had installed a heater in here. As the pieces were framed two days ago, there was no decoration or any necessities placed in this small art gallery.

“Are you cold?” I asked and removed my suit coat to drape over her bare arms.

“Not at all,” Kiara said, her tongue wetting her pillowy lips. Her hands tightened on the front of my shirt, “I feel very warm right now.”

“Warm,hmm?” I teased, pulling her closer, my hand sliding down to cup her perfect round ass. Her breasts pressed against my shirt when she arched up to me, her arms winding around my neck.

“Yes,” she breathed, “Can I kiss you?”

I smiled, “Kiss me, Bella.”

Her palms cupped my face. I closed my eyes when her lips pressed against mine. I savored her mouth, her soft fingers brushing tenderly against my cheek. I let a soft growl slip when she captured my bottom lip between her teeth in a slight tease.

I couldn’t help myself when her lips and tongue tasted of chocolate. Her exotic black vanilla and coconut scent intoxicated me. I needed to have her.

Pushing her against the wall, I slammed my lips against hers, devouring her gasp when she wrapped her legs around me. Her heels dug into my lower back.

“Ethan.”

Kiara whimpered softly, her sweet moan urging me to make her moan again and again. My lips traveled to her ear, licking and biting the soft earlobe before pressing a soft kiss on the crook of her neck. Her hands feathered my hair while my hands tugged the hem of her dress to her waist. I pressed my fingers on the wet spot of her thong.

“So fucking wet for me, Kiara,” I groaned, her hips arching for my touch as I rubbed her through the lace.

“Need you,” she panted, her fingers working on the zipper of my pants and stroking my hardened length.

I leaned back to stare at her hazy eyes, her flushed face and rosy lips, “Are you sure?”

Kiara pulled me out, my jaw clenching at the lack of control. “Please,” she whispered, her sultry voice urging me to press her against the wall.

I had said that I would do anything for her, and I had meant it.

Our carnal groans echoed in the art gallery as I took her against the wall before splaying her down on the floor. On my suit. Her legs trembled against my waist, her fingers sinking into my back when I moved as we both tethered off the orgasmic edge.

We both moaned each other’s names when we climaxed together. I stayed buried inside her and lifted my forehead from her chest to have my eyeful of her beautiful post-coital face. Her chocolaty eyes glistened with tears. I wiped them away and hugged her to my chest.

Kiara didn’t move an inch, instead watched me with her bleary eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. The lips I had kissed moments ago. I leaned down and kissed her again.

We ended up sleeping in each other’s arms on the floor of the empty art gallery surrounded by her mother’s paintings.

* * *

The next day, I woke up to sunlight streaming over our bodies, the musky scent of our arousal in the air. I ran my hand through her hair as she tried to hide her face on my chest and sleep some more. But it was six in the morning and we both had work to do.

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