Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,73

the extravagant five-course dinner that oozed with sophistication and romance, I expected more of that. Not to end up in an area of town that’s more akin to Jersey City than Central Park West.

“This way.” He places his hand on the small of my back and steers me toward a large metal door. After punching a code into the keypad, the door buzzes.

A musky, woodsy scent surrounds me as I warily step into what appears to be a vast, empty space. The only light comes from the full moon shining in through rain-spotted, grimy windows.

Anderson takes my hand in his, leading me to the far corner of the room. Despite the relative darkness, he seems to know precisely where he’s going, as if he can navigate this path blindfolded.

When we approach a pair of gated doors, he opens them, revealing a cage-like elevator.

“I’ve seen rickety elevators like this in the movies, and it never ended well for the woman who stupidly got in it.”

“Come on. Live a little.” He waggles his brows as he pulls me inside, then tugs the door closed. After he presses a few buttons, it starts with a jolt, moving at a languid pace.

“Where are we?” I press once more.

“I told you…” He erases the distance, pinning me against the wall. “I’m bringing you back to my secret lair.”

“Is that right?” I reply in a sultry voice.

Throughout the night, there’s been a flirtatious vibe between us, even more so than usual. Probably because it’s been so long since we’ve been intimate, both of us ready to snap at any moment. But despite the fact Anderson insisted on sitting as close to me as possible during dinner, he’s barely touched me, leaving me squirming.

The anticipation is driving me mad.

“You’re about to find out.”

The elevator comes to a stop, but he doesn’t retreat, his gaze searing into me, warming me from the inside out.

“Aren’t we going to get off?” I ask in a shaky voice.

His eyes flame in the darkness, jaw clenching. Then he nuzzles the crook of my neck as he grinds his hips against me. “God, I really fucking hope so. You have no idea how badly I need to get off.”

“I think I do.” I run my hand through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’ve been on edge all night long.”

He pulls back. “Any reason for that?”

“You know the reason for that.”

“Do I?” he counters, feigning innocence.

“You’re the one who told me not to wear any panties, then barely laid a hand on me all night.”

His conniving grin returns as he rakes his gaze down my body. “In my experience, delayed gratification can be quite…pleasurable.”

“And sadistic,” I retort.

“Trust me, love. I’ll make it worth your while.” Winking, he opens the cage door and steps into yet another dark space.

I take a moment to compose myself, drawing in a shaky breath to calm my raging hormones.

Everything about tonight has been perfect. From going out in public as Prince Gabriel’s fiancée, to the amazing dinner, to the even more amazing conversation as Anderson and I reconnected after weeks of being torn in two different directions.

But right now, I don’t want to be wined and dined. I don’t want to be romanced. I want Anderson. More than I think I ever have.

“Welcome to my secret lair,” he says once I step off the elevator. “Or, as I like to refer to it, my studio.”

He flicks a switch on the wall, bathing everything in light. Pipes and beams run the length of the ceiling, the walls exposed brick. A variety of different light stands have been arranged in the corner, as well as cables and a few fans. Framed prints and canvases are interspersed throughout, some on easels, some hanging on the walls. From what I know of Anderson’s style, they’re all his work.

“You have a studio?”

“I do.”

“Why isn’t it at your house? You have enough space there.”

“Because sometimes you need an escape. Esme’s cooking is hers. This is mine. Where I come when things get to be too much. When I need to feel…” He trails off, searching for the right word.

“Normal,” I finish his statement.

“Exactly.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “When I need to feel normal.”

“Who knows about this?” I pull away from him and continue into the room, studying the photographs.

“Just Esme and Creed. And now you. This is a part of myself I don’t share with many people. But I want you to know this side of me. Give you another