Page 133 of A Taste like Sin
flinch, but something won’t let me pull away. “No man could risk being so vulnerable around you. He
must employ all of his senses,sí—an arsenal of senses to decipher you. Smell. Touch. Taste.”
I shiver as his breath warms the back of my throat, creeping like wildfire.
“I’m sure even this painting portrays only a fraction.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” I admit, blinking. “I should be…”
Furious. Hateful. Bitter.
“I know,” he says. “You have no reason to forgive me, and I don’t have the right to demand it.”
“So why all this?” I gesture to the surrounding space. To the other paintings hanging just beyond my
line of sight. “I could still hate you.”
“I know,” he says. “You have every right to.”
“Didn’t you get what you wanted? My father is going to publicly renounce his own judgment. Your
brother will be vindicated. Though I’m sure you’ve already gotten your revenge.”
According to the news reports issued earlier this morning, Kyle Harrison has vanished from his
expensive penthouse home, presumably on the run given new evidence brought to light. I know the
truth, however, and Damien grits his teeth, confirming it.
“So why contact me?” I ask.
“Stupidity. Insanity, perhaps,” he says. “For a man with my resources, I’m not used to begging for
what I want.”
My heart lurches, ramming against my rib cage. “And what do you want?”
“To start over,” he says simply. “I want to introduce myself to the beautiful woman who visited my
exhibition and expressed interest in my work like no one else. I want her to know that I am willing to
earn her trust through any means available to me. I want her to know…”
“What?” I croak when he falls silent.
“I want her to know that I will never abandon her. Whether she can forgive me or not.”
Tears spill from my eyes, painting my cheeks. “I’m hungry,” I blurt.
Another deliberate step brings him closer still. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’m in the mood for pizza.” Turning on my heel, I move for the hall, calling back, “You have
five minutes before I change my mind.”
His laugh brings fluttering butterflies to life in my stomach. “As you wish, Ms. Thorne. I am yours to
command.”
