The Arrogant Artist : A Billionaire Boss Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 2), стр. 49

Fuck! How did I get so lucky with this woman?

I kiss her cheek. “She said this house was too simple for people like us.”

Emily is silent for a couple of moments before she speaks, “Simple can be good.”

I stare out into the horizon, my stomach somersaulting as she agrees with me. My arms tighten around her—I don’t think I want to let this woman go.

“I want a simple life,” I tell her. “I’ve had the other, and honestly, I don’t want that life anymore.” I’m hoping that maybe she too wants that type of life. I hope she’s not interested in the glitz and glamor of the international art world.

Emily absently nods in agreement.

“What do you want?” I ask.

Please say the simple life.

Please, I try and telepathically tell her.

Emily is quiet as she thinks over my question. “I want someone to love me for me.” Her confession is a direct arrow to the chest. “To accept me for who I am.”

I turn her in my arms and look down at her. “I accept you for you.” I hope she understands that I have feelings for her.

Emily’s eyes glisten. I didn’t mean this to get so deep so quickly. I thought maybe we would discuss things when we were drunk, not stone-cold sober.

“I’m glad I am sharing all this with you.”

“Me, too. I don’t know if I’ll want to leave. This place is paradise. You might be stuck with me,” Emily jokes.

“Here’s hoping,” I tell her.

She sucks in a breath. “Well, you’re saying all the right things.” Her arms wrap around my waist.

“They’re not just words, Emily.”

“I know, Louis, and that’s what scares me.”

I frown. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, but it’s the artist in me. I’m a passionate kind of guy, and I know I can be a little intense. “Come on. That pool looks inviting.” I change the subject.

Relief washes over Emily’s face at the sudden change of conversation.

“Let’s see if we can recreate the first night we met. But this time with a very different outcome.” I grab and swing her over my shoulder making her squeal. My long legs eat up the distance from the balcony to the pool.

“Louis, no!” Emily screams as I launch us into the water fully clothed.

Emily comes up spluttering. She’s wearing a thin sundress, and it instantly becomes see-through showing her white bra underneath, and that too is giving everything away with those perfect rose nipples now on show.

I pull her to me and kiss her hungrily. Her protests die quickly as she pulls me to her. I start to pull off my soaked T-shirt and throw it to the side. It lands with a thud, her dress joins it as do my shorts, then our underwear.

Emily wraps her legs around my waist as I move her through the water. I place her bottom on the hot tiles, and she hisses at the sudden heat, but then her lips are on mine again, her legs opening for me as I slide between them, the perfect angle to slip right inside of her. We groan at the connection. We need it, moving in unison as I make love to her on the side of my pool with the sunshine all around us in one of my favorite places in the world, the place that makes me feel the freest I’ve ever been. My sanctuary. And now I have found someone I want to share it with, to appreciate and enjoy it with.

“I’m falling for you, Emily,” I tell her as I push inside her deeper, needing that connection, needing to show her what she means to me.

“I know.” She smiles up at me before I push her over the edge in ecstasy.

We moved our lovemaking from the pool to inside. Emily’s skin isn’t used to the bright Mediterranean sun, and the longer we stayed outside, the brighter shade of pink her skin glowed.

I carried her limp form to my bedroom where I tried to revive her with my dick. It worked for a while until she passed out after another round of orgasms.

Being back here, in a place I never tainted, has inspired me. So, I reluctantly leave my strawberry blonde goddess asleep in my bed and make my way to my studio. Opening the door, a wave of nostalgia, inspiration, and freedom hits me. I see old pieces and products from at least a decade ago. Some of these pieces are my first paintings. My fingers run along the thick paint, hoping they’ll inject me with new life, new inspiration, and help me find the new Louis Marchant.

The next thing I know, I’m grabbing a canvas, opening the windows to the studio which look out over the ocean, and my hands start moving on their own, muscle memory taking over as I grab my brushes and pour out the paint that I need.

For the next couple of hours, I lose myself in my work.

“There you are.” Emily’s voice makes me jump.

I turn and see her standing like a disheveled angel at my doorway. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, she’s wearing one of my T-shirts, and her feet are bare.

“You’re painting.” Those green eyes widen as she takes in the canvases I’ve been working on. She steps into my space and looks over my work. I suck in a breath wondering what she’s thinking as they’re a little different from what I have been doing.

“You’re using the colors of Ibiza.”

How did she see that?

“The whites of the villas, the greens of the gardens, the browns of the stones, the blue of the ocean…” I nod. “These are perfect, Louis. The perfect balance between your angrier, demonic phase…” she gives me a smirk, “… to your older brighter colors. You should be so proud.”

She understands.

I rush to her and kiss her passionately.

“You get it.” I hold her face. “You get me.”

“I try.” She gives