Page 69 of Wicked Little Secret
My pulse explodes. I break out into a fast stride to catch up with her. Desperation reawakens like it had a week ago, where I’d sought her out and scoured the entire campus.
Nyssa stops before a marble statue that demands reverence.
Undine Rising from the Watersis showcased in its own room, surrounded by emerald-papered walls and a generous skylight.
I come up behind her, my gaze lifting to admire the work of art. Far from the first time I’ve visited the museum to view the piece, there’s something more special about it now.
Witnessing it alongside Nyssa.
Undine’s chiseled from white marble, yet the woman’s curves are impeccable and soft. The fabric drapes her body, rippling and wet as she rises from the water. She reaches toward the heavens, the skylight haloing her.
Nyssa tilts her head, studying every minute detail.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks. “It’s my favorite.”
“Yes,” I answer. “It’s breathtaking. One of a kind.”
“It took Chauncey Ives two years to sculpt.”
“So I’ve read.”
“The marble’s so delicately chiseled that light can shine through the portions that are supposed to be fabric,” she explains, an excited beat about her. She glances at me, then grabs my hand to take me around the back and show me.
Warm sparks shoot up my arm. Through the rest of me.
Her touch so soft, yet so confident.
I’m enthralled as she leads me and points out the intricacy in the construction.
But I’m more distracted by her. The passion that blooms across her face as she goes into great detail about the famed work of art. Many details I’ve already learned but appreciate hearing from her sweet lips. She runs herself breathless talking, telling me about Undine and Chauncey and the difficulty in constructing such a piece.
She flushes, the subtlest glow touching her bronze complexion.
“What?” she asks finally.
“How long did you know I was following you, Miss Oliver?”
The corner of her lip quirks. “Aren’t you going to tell me why you were following me first?”
I edge closer, looming over her. My tone deepens with a hint of authority. “Tell me how long you knew.”
“The museum’s empty. I saw your reflection in the glass.”
“Yet you kept going.”
We’ve inched even closer, her face tilting slightly up toward mine.
Mine angling down toward hers.
“You were leading me,” I whisper, so close I can almost taste her lips. “You wanted to show me your favorite piece.”
“You wanted to see… didn’t you?”
My hands come up to cup her face as a crooked grin slants across my lips. “I find you absolutely fucking irresistible. Did you know that?”
“I had a feeling.”
“And how do you feel? What doyouwant?”