Red Handed by Shelly Bell Page A

Louvre a few times. Why?”
    â€œEver wonder about her expression? Scholars have debated it for years. The Italian title of the painting is La Gioconda, which means—”
    â€œLighthearted.” She’d studied Da Vinci in college in her beginning art history class. His artwork wasn’t particularly her favorite, but like millions of other people, she was intrigued by the Mona Lisa . She’d even written her final paper on it.
    â€œTo many, it’s a portrait of a happy woman.” He snatched a camera off its stand and stalked closer to her, his gaze no longer contained to her face. “But is she truly content, or is she simply showing the world what they expect to see?”
    Heat rushed through her body, hardening her nipples and moistening her pussy. “Perhaps the smile has nothing to do with the subject and everything to do with the artist.”
    Only inches away from her now, he dropped to his knees and snapped a photo. “What do you mean?”
    â€œA man like that was too incredibly talented to simply paint what everyone else would paint if they held the brush. True artists see differently. They use all their senses in their creation.” She squeezed her thighs together, his nearness sending her heart into overdrive, a quickening beat she felt not only in her chest but between her legs. “Maybe Da Vinci saw beneath the surface and painted what lay inside Mona Lisa,” she said.
    â€œYou may be right. Did you know Da Vinci was obsessed with mirrors? He believed if you stood in front of a six-way mirror, you could see all the different facets of a person.” He inched forward and planted his hands on her thighs, then spread her wide open. “I think it’s possible to achieve the same with a camera. Let’s find out all of yours.”
    A small gasp popped out of her as he bent her knees and crawled between them, wearing a grin rivaling the Mona Lisa .
    â€œAll we’ll need is some hot wax.”

Chapter Eleven
    D ANIELLE TRIED TO keep calm despite having Cole between her naked thighs. “Hot wax? Does it hurt?”
    He absentmindedly caressed her kneecaps. “I promise it’s not my intention to inflict any pain. They’re special candles specifically designed and marketed for wax play. As you’ve seen, my photographs are in black and white with a hint of color. To keep my hands free, I’ve set the cameras on timers. I’m going to drip different colors of hot wax on your body as the cameras shoot. If the wax hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”
    He left her spread open as he collected a few colored candles from a table in the corner of the alcove. All the reservations she’d carried about baring her body had disappeared. Although she was the one exposed and on display, a sense of strength and power filled her. She wasn’t embarrassed.
    But she was embarrassingly wet.
    She loved being on this side of the camera. Loved the way Cole’s eyes had darkened and his gaze locked on her damp pussy. And as he turned from the table and sauntered toward her, his arms loaded up with candles, her own gaze flew to the outline of his erection through his jeans.
    She’d caused it.
    He kneeled beside her and set the candles on the floor, eying her hungrily. “I had no intention of touching you today, other than what was necessary for the photographs. But the way you’re laid out for me with that glistening pussy and those pebbled nipples . . . I’m not that strong. Say yes, Danielle. Tell me I can touch you and taste you.”
    â€œYes,” she said without hesitation, not wanting him to change his mind.
    Then his hands were on her, one caressing the curve of her collarbone while the other swept from her neck to her breastbone. “Softest skin.” He bent to her breast, taking his time to lick around the areola before pulling the tip into his mouth and sucking on it. Nibbling on it. Setting her body