SIN [h.s] ✔

Chapter Eleven.

Beth

Louis brought the car around, and we got into the backseat. Harry rested a hand on my leg, and traced a path much like the one I had traced at O'Malley's. I swear that if Louis didn't work for my father, I would have put the divider up and suggested some limo sex for real. I was dying to at least make out but I had known Louis since I was a kid. It would be like making out in front of my uncle. Thankfully, there wasn't a lot of traffic and we were back in the city in no time. Louis dropped us off, and Harry and I went up to my apartment.

He waited for me in the living room while I went into change. I decided to be daring. I found a light, loose cotton mini dress and I slipped it over my head without a scrap on underneath. I found a decently comfortable pair of strappy heels, and with some moisturizer on my legs, and a dab of Jour d'Hermès, on my pulse points I was done.

I did toss some undies in an overnight bag along with some comfy clothes, make-up and necessary toiletries, and I made sure to take my pill. When I came back into the room Harry was examining a painting on my wall. He turned around and his eyes went to my legs.

"That's one of mine," I said, wondering what he thought of the explosion of color.

"I know I recognize it," he said, surprising me. I was about to ask him how when I was distracted. "You look great," he said letting his gaze travel lazily back up to my eyes, and walking over to kiss me softly on the lips.

"Thanks." I smiled thinking about how he would react when he found out I wasn't wearing anything underneath my dress. He took my hand and we left.

When we got to the parking garage, he led me to his car and deactivated the alarm. I confess, I paused to ogle for a moment. That was one hot car.

"This is a classic Karmann Ghia," I said, lightly running my hand over the hood. "The Karmann Ghia is like the coolest car ever made, and it's in beautiful condition. What is this, a 1970?" He didn't reply so I looked up. He was staring at me with a funny look on his face.

"1971," he answered, still looking at me strangely.

"Are you okay?" I asked, wondering if he was suddenly feeling ill or something.

"Yeah. I'm good. I'm great. I'm just... Let's go."

Fifteen minutes later, we were back at his place. I knew he had recently moved, but I hadn't realized that he had moved into a renovated warehouse in the hip Northern Liberties neighborhood. I was immediately in love with his place. It had bare brick walls and hardwood floors. There was a circular wrought iron staircase leading to a loft overlooking the living room, a modern kitchen underneath the loft was done in black and chrome and the fireplace was made of dark wood.

It was what was hanging over the fireplace that made freeze in my tracks. It was one of my paintings. I had been lucky enough to get a place in a few local gallery showings. This one had been shown a couple of months ago. Like the one in my apartment, it was an abstract explosion of color, but this had words incorporated into the design "art" "music" "live" "breathe" "desire" and "experience."

"You bought my painting," I said spinning around and smiling with delight.

"Yeah, bold color is good." He smiled.

"Bright color is good too," I said smiling back and feeling my cheeks heat up. I saw him breathe in deeply, and he walked over to me and gently ran his knuckles along my jaw.

"You know, hardly anybody blushes anymore. You're so beautiful." He leaned down to kiss me, and my lips parted in anticipation, and then my phone rang.

"I had better see who it is," I said puzzled at who would be calling me. I grabbed my purse and took my phone out. I didn't recognize the number and there was no name.