Jared didn’t even look at the paper as he took it.
Leaning back into the chair, she stared at him. “I’m surprised you don’t require a clean bill of health from a doctor.”
“We do. All members of the Salon have legal waivers from their doctors, which are updated every six months. I’m trusting you were honest about your medical history when you signed that form.”
She nearly blushed, embarrassed to reveal how long it’d been since she’d had sex. Or the reason for knowing she was disease-free. “I’m clean. When my last…relationship ended, I had an exam and all the requisite tests.”
“Sounds like the relationship didn’t end well.”
Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “You could say that. Fortunately, I was more pissed off than hurt.” Which she couldn’t say about Gary. He’d had to see a doctor for his shoulder.
Jared shifted in his chair and her gaze was drawn to the bulge in his slacks. He made no effort to hide his erection. Her blood heated like lava.
She couldn’t relax, his blatant lust made it impossible. She wished he would move, pace, take her to wherever they were going. But he made no effort to get up. Spontaneous combustion became a distinct possibility.
She took a deep breath as something occurred to her. “Will Tyler be there?”
How weird would it be to do anything sexual with his brother? Even unknowingly, though she was pretty sure she’d recognize his voice.
Jared shook his head. “He doesn’t attend the Salon games.”
Something clicked in her sex-addled brain, some piece of information that focused her away from sex. “Salon as in Victorian salon?”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
Her smile made his gaze burn a little brighter.
“What’s that smile for, Belle?”
“I never told you about my specialty in antiques, did I?”
If he was surprised by her change of subject, he didn’t show it. “I don’t think it came up.”
“The shop’s main focus is early American and European furniture. That was my grandfather’s passion and where most of my income comes from. My focus is erotic artwork.”
He blinked once, but his smile never faltered, and he raised his eyebrows just enough to let her know he wanted her to continue.
“Most of my collection is eighteenth-century European, Japanese, and Chinese.” And some very special modern American works. “I’m well versed in European because of my degree in art history, but I also have a few other pieces, like Greek redware and Roman marble.”
Now he moved, shifting in his chair, leaning forward. “How did you get into the field?”
He looked so relaxed, so at ease, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his collar open. She had no idea where his tie was. Was it so wrong to be so turned on by the hint of T-shirt she could see under his shirt? To be panting after the naked skin of his forearms?
The man was made to be touched. And she planned to.
But first, she’d make him beg again. She’d never made anyone beg and it felt so damn good.
She burned for him. Not just between her legs, but her breasts ached for his lips to suck at her nipples and her skin tingled with the remembered touch of his hands. She wanted him to burn for her, to crave the taste and feel of her.
“My granddad accepted a set of Paul Avril engravings for Fanny Hill as payment for a nineteenth-century Lancaster County chest. I happened to open the box when they came. I was…fascinated.”
Jared’s smile widened. “I know the ones you’re talking about. I have an entire set. How old were you?”
Her smile turned into a full-out grin. “Seventeen. My granddad lined the paintings up against the wall, completely ignored the content, and discussed the techniques used by the artist. I’ve been fascinated with erotic art for years. How the turn of a head or the curve of a lip can convey so much passion in the hands of a master.”
“And you’re a collector?
She nodded. “As well as a dealer. I have several clients who love art as much as I do. They enable me to expand my own collection. And I work with a few museums around the world. It doesn’t pay all the bills but it’s my passion.”
She’d chosen the word deliberately and was rewarded by heat flaring in Jared’s eyes.
“I’ve always believed passion is the only thing that makes life worth living.” Jared stood and her gaze flicked, for one brief moment, to his crotch and the impressive bulge there. When she looked up his smile was gone, but lust showed in the tight line of his jaw. “Let me show you my passion before the others arrive.”
She really didn’t want him to think she was a nympho, but she really hoped he meant they were going to have sex again. It’d been months since she’d broken up with Gary and frankly, she’d never had sex as good as she’d had with Jared.
A little voice in the back of her head wanted to intrude, wanted her to question what she was doing. But she shut it down before it could become a nag. Tonight was all about pleasure.
If there was one thing she’d learned from her parents, it’s that pleasure was sacred.
And damn it, she deserved some.
She took his outstretched hand and let him draw her to her feet.
Tilting her head back to look into his eyes, she smiled and he bent to give her a quick kiss. Not long enough to satisfy. And no tongue.
A tease. She wanted to tease and torment him.
He nodded toward the back wall of the room. “Through here.”
While this room was the size of the one she’d checked into for the night—and which she probably wasn’t going to be sleeping in—there was no bed. Two couches and six chairs were arranged around the room in seating areas, the art deco style repeated in the side tables and decorations. Not gaudy, as some deco could be, but elegant and tasteful.
Annabelle saw no door in the wall but Jared touched a piece of the ornate molding and, like magic, the seam she’d thought was from the wallpaper cracked open to reveal another space beyond.
Jared stepped in ahead of her, flicking switches on the wall.
A warm glow suffused the room and Annabelle’s breath caught at the scene spread out before her.
Like a scene out of Pride and Prejudice or, more appropriately, Fanny Hill, the large room looked like someone had transplanted a drawing room straight from Victorian England.
From the ornately decorated ceiling to the plush carpets, the octagonal room dripped with elegance.
Lush fabrics covered the chaise lounges, chairs, and ottomans. Silk wallpaper gleamed in the light of the crystal chandelier in the center of the room. Directly below the chandelier sat an octagonal game table with eight chairs.
A baby grand piano held court in one corner, lit by a leaded glass piano light, and a large glass-front walnut display cabinet across the room held a collection of items she couldn’t see from where she was standing.
Several other seating areas lay scattered around the room, most shadowed in darkness, including one in front of the majestic marble fireplace burning with a gas fire.
“All the furniture is reproduction,” Jared said. “We can get…a little enthusiastic and I didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to hold back for fear of breaking an expensive antique.”
She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Jared headed for the writing desk on the opposite wall from the piano. He withdrew two pieces of black cloth from one of the drawers and turned to face her.
Walking over to him, she let her hips sway just a tiny bit more, the action helped along by the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the ones he’d ripped off her. She suspected they were in his pocket.
And that really shouldn’t make her pussy tingle.