Page 19 of Dr. Stone
At nine am sharp,the tycoon, Mr. Titus Hawk, walked into the gallery with a slow, deliberate stride. I stood up from my desk, where I’d just finished sending some personalized photographs of paintings to an overseas buyer, and pulled on my cream blazer that matched my wide-legged slacks.
I walked out to greet him with the same supreme confidence he had brought through the two front doors he’d just entered.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawk. I’m Andie Miller,” I said, extending my hand to shake his. “Ash advised me about your consultation a few hours ago, and I believe we may have some pieces here that will work wonderfully for you.”
Titus Hawk’s eyes captured me instantly, their warm amber glow holding me hostage in a gaze that felt as inescapable as it was intoxicating.
“I appreciate you making my last-minute reservation a priority for you this morning, as I am a man who does not waste time in securing what I want. Wasted time means wasted pleasure, am I not right about that?” he said, taking my hand and kissing the air over the back of it before releasing it. “However, I am a man who knows how to indulge in both.”
I grinned at this Casanova. “Lucky for you, I specialize in unforgettable experiences. That said, I will prove that any time spent with me this morning will be worth your attention, Mr. Hawk.”
Titus’s smile in response was a study in seduction, a slow, deliberate curve of full sensual lips that hinted at secrets and promises. Holy hell, what world was this man created from to live on Earth with the rest of us mere mortals?
And yet, even with his impossible charm, it wasn’t Titus’s lips I imagined. It was Jace’s, the heat of his breath against my neck, the weight of his body pinning me into the sheets, the low, rough sound he made when I said his name. The memory came so fast, so hot, I almost forgot to breathe.
“I should like to extend my gratitude to Mrs. Mitchell for allowing me in on such late notice as well,” he said.
I blinked, pulling myself back to present company.
“Absolutely. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to where Ash is in her studio.” I glanced back at the tall man, fully aware his gaze was on my ass. “Perhaps she’ll convince you to have her create a commissioned original for you?”
“Perhaps,” he said with a smile that complemented every one of the flawless features God had blessed him with.
I’d seen some fine-ass men in my day, but this one might’ve been the fairest of them all. His dark, wavy hair caught the soft light of the gallery, and his amber eyes glinted with a predator’s focus, intensifying his exotic flair. His Spanish accent added a seductive edge to the deep, velvety tone of his voice, while hisneatly groomed beard softened the sharp line of his jaw—and that damn smile of his was seduction in disguise.
I had to clear my mind so I could think. It wasn’t every day that someone walked in here and was more beautiful to behold than Ash’s paintings.
I knocked twice on the studio door, glancing back to ensure Titus didn’t feel ignored because of my overwhelming lustfulness, which I was actively working on suppressing so I could do my job. I could use a sliver of the old, depressed Andie right now, who wouldn’t have given a shit what this man looked like. That version of myself would sell him some shit, then upsell him on more shit that he didn’t need.
Unfortunately, Titus Hawk didn’t show up when old Andie was around. Instead, he got me, someone acting like a star-struck thirteen-year-old meeting her favorite boy band member. Why the hell would Ash even suggest he might ask me out? In what world does a man like him want anything to do with a woman like me? Not to get down on myself, but this guy was something else.
While Ash and Titus exchanged easy conversation, I forced myself to lock it down before I tanked this meeting. If I blew it by drooling over him, that tight-knit group of billionaire CEOs, doctors, and their wives would be up my ass even more than they already were. And it was bad enough they were still gossiping about what happened between me and Jace on the yacht.
That thought alone set me up for another ambush. Jace, pinning me to the shower wall, steam wrapping around us, his hands in my hair, his breath hot against my skin. When his mouth scorched a path over my shoulders as my back pressed tight to his chest, each thrust harder, deeper than in the bed. Wild. Unrestrained. Every moan and rough, guttural growl vibrated through me until I was shaking apart in his arms. Evennow, just thinking of it made my thighs tense and my pulse stumble.
If there were such a thing as having a perfect fuck partner, Jace would be mine.
TEN
Andie
After nearly an hourof watching this Casanova strut around, showing off his perfect physique beneath a tailored black suit, Titus finally seemed to narrow in on what would suit him and his multi-million-dollar Montecito estate.
We had ended up at the Gallery of Sunsets. There, he stood silently, admiring each painting. The lighting in the room was carefully arranged to create the illusion of being present at the scene, as if you were witnessing the crimson hues of the ocean shimmering beneath the light of a setting sun.
I was impressed with the man’s respect for beautiful artwork, going deeper into its meaning than just brushstrokes on canvas. He seemed to absorb what was behind the images created to pull you into the painting.
Many people came through here, looking on the surface for what they wanted in artwork like this, throwing thousands of dollars around just to hang a picture on their lavish walls.
Titus wasn’t like that. He saw what these portraits were designed to bring out—emotion. Sadly, this man didn’t need any additional perfect qualities to make a woman speechless, but I found it intriguing that there was much more to the man than met the eye.
However, he lost points with me with his overly confident pickup lines.
I quietly watched him take in the beauty of Ash’sSultry Horizons. This had been our rhythm for the past hour. I would introduce a painting, and he’d respond with some flirty line, usually laced with innuendo.
When he realized it wasn’t having any effect on me, we’d move on to the next piece—one he’d somehow tie to something personal, which I now understood was all part of his attempt to seduce me. But not seduce me in the traditional sense, like trying to get me into bed. No, this was more about showcasing his cocky, rich persona and offering me the supposed thrill of being in his presence.
“This,” he turned to me, his haunted gold eyes drawing me in again, “this is me,” he said with his sexy as hell Spanish accent.
