“Do you think you’re dreaming?” He spun her by her shoulder so she could look at him.

Lucas tipped her chin with his fingers. Her lips trembled. Lucas told himself he’d be a gentleman when it came to her, but that had never been him. He stole a kiss from those fuckable lips, pleased she clutched at his shoulders and responded in turn. Heat kindled in his dick and spread to the rest of his body.

He pressed himself against her, wondering if she could feel his erection. He could feel her heavy breasts against his chest, and he suddenly wanted her naked. Bared for him completely.

Lucas deepened the kiss, liked that she sucked down on his tongue. He had to pull away before his primal instincts to rut her like an animal kicked in. Lucas didn’t give a fuck they were still in the gallery and there were cameras watching.

If this went on any further, he’d fuck her right against that wall, next to that painting of a horse. Lucas bet she wouldn’t fight him. She’d submit and yield to him beautifully like her name. With grace. Once she had a taste of him, she’d never crave or want another man again.

He would make sure of that.

She panted, her lips still swollen from their earlier kiss. Grace looked dazed. He wanted to capture that look forever in paint so he could look at it over and over again.

“Forget about what happened here,” Lucas told her. “The police will take care of that bastard.”

Clarity returned to Grace’s hazel eyes. This woman was sharp, smart. Lucas approved. “That man tried to kill you.”

Shock reflected in her features. “Who was he? Why did he—”

Lucas pressed a finger to her lips to silence her, then kissed her again. “No more questions, at least for tonight. I’ll see you next week, Grace.”

He released her and walked toward the elevator. Lucas needed to tidy some things up. To phone his contact at the station and give Marco Severin a call. He might no longer answer to the head of the Familia, but he owed them a heads-up.

“You assume I’d still come to your studio after seeing that,” she stated.