Bound To Him: Three Dates with a Billionaire by Emma Lyn Wild Page B

this evening.”
    I unlocked the door and waved him in. As he passed, his cologne tickled my nostrils. I’d never forget that smell.
    So here I was, with the hottest actor in Hollywood — in the world! — in a private, dimly lit room with the most salacious piece of art the museum owned. Soft lights washed the surface of the tiles as I began my speech. “This came from the same house as the one outside. At first we thought the house was a b-brothel, but only this piece was like, well—” I waved my hands helplessly then finished, “So we think it was privately installed for one of the owners.”
    “Where he could get his fun?”
    I swallowed. “Exactly.”
    This dim light was far too intimate for my liking. As was the pavement. “It probably decorated the bathhouse.”
    “Where people regularly got naked.” He moved closer and peered at the figures depicted on the mosaic. My, but he had a great butt, filling his jeans perfectly, inviting the onlooker, me, to touch. Not that I did, though I wanted to.
    “Yes,” I said faintly, still staring at his rear end.
    “They knew how to do it doggy style even then?”
    Oh, fuck, he wanted to discuss what they were doing? The tiles showed couples in various sexual positions, and this was no sex manual; they were enjoying the hell out of it. “It seems a natural way of doing things.”
    He turned his attention to a woman lying on a couch, her legs splayed wide for her lover. “They were the kind of couches people used when they ate,” I said.
    “And for fucking.” He said the word calmly. It sent a jolt of heat to my crotch.
    “Yes.”
    Unfortunately he turned just as I was licking my lips. His gaze lingered on them, then moved up to my eyes.
    Oh, fuck, they were even more beautiful in real life. A pure, clear blue, just the kind I liked, as long as they belonged to the face of a hot man. Specifically him. I stared at him for a fraught moment. “We’re doing the play straight, with a touch of nudity,” he said.
    “Yours?” I shouldn’t have said that, but it was out now.
    He shrugged. “A flash of ass. Mine.”
    I was going to have to scrape up the money to see that play. Maybe I knew somebody who worked at the theater, or I could get a temporary job. No, these days there were lines for working anywhere. And I wasn’t exactly flush with cash.
    “Do you like Shakespeare?”
    Only when he was playing in it. I tried to smile and failed dismally. “Sometimes.”
    “Antony and Cleopatra is one of the sexiest plays he ever wrote.”
    Mercy.
    Thankfully, he turned back to the pavement. “This goes on show next week, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes.” I sounded like a complete idiot. I tried to talk like an adult. “So you want to study Roman sexual practices?”
    He turned his back on the exhibit and leaned against the rail meant to keep the public at a safe distance. “Not particularly. The play opens next week and we already have it sorted out. But I did want to get rid of that bore, Steve. He could make the Kama Sutra sound like an academic text.”
    “But it is.” I’d said it before I thought, but I added, “It’s not my period, so I don’t know too much about it, but we did take a look to compare it to this.” I nodded toward the pavement, hoping he’d take the hint.
    But fuck, I wanted him to kiss me! What chance did I have, next to the hotties he dated? Especially when I was dressed for work and covered with Roman dust. I couldn’t torture myself like this.
    To my absolute shock, he dragged me close and covered my mouth with his, kissing the fuck out of me. His tongue entered my mouth, taking what he wanted.
    The unmistakable ridge of his erection pressed against my stomach. Was this man kinky, did he get turned on by dowdy museum interns?
    I was too turned on to think of anything except what he was doing. I met his tongue with mine, caressed it, while I was mentally freaking out. I was kissing Troy Cooper!
    He grunted, a deep masculine sound of