22. Can I Tell You A Secret?

Chapter 22

Can I Tell You A Secret?

HUNTER

M egan and I walk around the gallery, and at some point, she whips out a small sketchbook from her purse and gives me a pleading look. "You don't mind, do you?"

My lips twitch, "Of course not."

I sit down next to her on the bench, watching her as she tries to copy the painting she's looking at. It's a dull scene in my opinion, but she seems to be fascinated by it.

And I'm fascinated by her.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, concentrating on the broad strokes of the dark-looking pencil in her hand. Her soft hands are moving with quick precision, her eyes focused.

"If you still have that charcoal drawing of me," I muse, watching her, "I'd like to buy it from you."

"I didn't get it back yet," she says. "But I could make you a new one, though. You have really distinct features. Great for sketching. If I could just convince you to sit still for a painting, that would be so fucking awesome."

Her enthusiasm is unparalleled at this moment and I have a feeling she isn't completely aware of what she's saying because all I heard was she thinks I'm attractive.

"Maybe you'll figure out a way to convince me." My lips curve.

My eyes catch a glimpse of her sketch, and it's already evolving into something impressive. I don't try to initiate any further conversation, not wanting to distract her. There is something calming about just watching her work in silence. I don't realize how much time has passed when her pencil suddenly stops.

It's only when she lets out a shuddering sigh that I ask, "You're done?"

I lean over to take a look, and I can't help but be amazed. She's managed to capture a lot of the detail of the painting in this half-hour.

"Like I said," I say, feeling a little proud for some odd reason. "You've got incredible talent."

She smiles at me, her cheeks high at the praise, and it occurs to me that I've never seen her look this happy. If she's beautiful in her anger, she's breathtaking in her happiness. My heart stutters, and I stare at her, unable to process the swift emotion moving through me.

"What?" Megan asks.

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "Let's get this framed. Come on. I'm sure we can find a place. I want to keep this one."

As I pull her out of the art gallery, she laughs. "It's just a sketch, and it's not even cleaned up."

"I like it," I tell her firmly. "Don't change it."

I see the pride in her eyes when we manage to find a small local shop that frames the picture for us while we wait. Even with the rush of cars and bikes in the city, business is still slow and easy in Paris. Shop owners don't rush things like they do in the states. So we wait. And for once in my life, I don't mind waiting because the wait is with her.

"I'm buying this from you," I tell her as the shop owner hands over the framed sketch. The glitter of pure happiness in her eyes makes me want to snatch her up in my arms and kiss her, but I hold myself back.

"You like it that much?" she whispers in awe.

"Of course," I say calmly. "I don't say things I don't mean."

Her lips part, and then she holds out the framed picture. "If you like it that much, then it's yours. I can never repay you for this experience that you gave me, but I can give you this. I hope it's as valuable as you think it is."

I look down at the carefully sketched picture and I don't insult her by demanding to pay her. Megan has a lot of pride and I won't make the mistake of trampling over it again.

"Thank you."

She's exhausted, but I can tell that she's not had her fill of the city yet, so I take control of the rest of the evening. I make reservations for dinner on a cruise boat. It'll allow Megan to rest but still take in Paris at night with all its lights and glory. However, the downfall of pouring rain has me canceling the plan, and we move dinner to the apartment, where I order from one of the best restaurants in the area.

The food is exquisite, but the time I spend with Megan is precious in its own way. This was not what I imagined when I decided on this impulsive trip. My rigid personality is loosening, and we sit on the large wooden coffee table in the living room while Megan tries out different dishes, preparing me a plate as well.

When was the last time I was this intimate with someone? I don't remember. I don't remember sitting together with a woman and actually enjoying myself without any ulterior motives from either party.

It's different, but it's nice.

Seems like Megan is determined to get drunk on the champagne I ordered with dinner and after the first three glasses, I reach out and take the bottle from her.

"All right, lightweight, that's quite enough. You'll thank me in the morning."

She makes a face. "I'm not done yet."

"Yes, you are," I tell her firmly. "You're going to have a bad hangover tomorrow if you keep this up."

"I'm a freakin' bartender. I know when someone's had too much."

Her decolletage is flushed with heat from the alcohol as she reaches forward for the bottle and tumbles straight into my lap. I expect her to come to her senses almost immediately, but she lets out a giggle before wiggling herself on my lap to make herself comfortable and then flinging her arms around my neck.

"You're very handsome," she says, smiling at me.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to touch her.

"Thank you." My smile is strained as I can feel in my cock the painful position I'm now in.

"But you're grumpy all the time." She grins in an unabashed manner. "And very controlling. Too controlling. You're always bossing everyone around and me around. I mean, I guess it's kind of hot sometimes, but as a rule, women don't like that."

Intrigued with our conversation, I carefully wrap my hands around her waist and settle her in a more comfortable position in my lap.

"But you like it?"

"Well, when you use this kind of voice, I might just like it," she mimics my deep tone.

She buries her face in my neck in a fit of shyness that is simply the most endearing thing I've seen all day. It seems that drunk Megan likes to talk, joke, and snuggle. I've got to admit, I'm starting to like drunk Megan.

"Should I care about what other women think of me?" I ask her mildly.

"Nope," she says in a muffled voice and then pulls back to look at me. "How come you don't have a girlfriend, Mr. Middleton?"

"Mr. who?"

"Okay, why don't you have a girlfriend, Hunter?" She grins playfully.

"My line of work makes that difficult."

"Oh," she frowns, and I can feel her fingers playing with my hair. "Well, you can be a little scary, but you've always been nice to me. You saved me two times. Nobody's ever looked after me like that. I didn't think anyone would come to find me when Steve took me."

My smile fades. "Why not?"

She moves her shoulders. "When bad things keep happening to you, you kind of expect them to."

It's a dark and pessimistic statement coming from her, and she's too young to feel that way, as jaded about life as she does. That's for evil men like me.

"I'll always come and save you," I tell her.

"No, you won't." Her laughter is somewhat drunken and amused. "The minute you figure out a way to get in my pants, you'll throw me away."

My smile fades as something cold forms inside my chest.

She taps me on the tip of my nose. "You thought I didn't know that, do you? Remember, Hunter, you told me yourself that I don't have any value."

I hate that she's saying this while still smiling. "I didn't mean that. I said it out of anger."

"It's fine. It's the truth. But one day, I'll make something of myself, and then everybody who looked at me and said I was worthless will regret it."

My hands tighten on her waist as my heart clenches in an almost painful manner. "They will regret it, but they don't matter, anyway. You're not worthless. You never were."

"You don't have to feel so bad." She pats my cheek. Then she lowers her mouth to mine and gives me a tender kiss before saying, "I don't take anything people say about me to heart. Not even you."

The kiss and her clipped words work at cross purposes. "I think it's time you go to bed before you do something you regret."

Her smile is wicked and filled with mischief. "Can I tell you a secret?"

I have a bad feeling about this right now. I'm feeling a little helpless against her, so I nod. She leans forward until her mouth is next to my ear, and her warm breath hits my neck.

"I really want you to fuck me."