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photographs of paintings by a new artist, a woman who painted nudes in the neoclassical style. Normally it was not something a progressive gallery like Leighton’s would consider, but the subject matter in each piece set the series apart.
    In the first one, a woman sat on the edge of a bathtub, her auburn hair coiled high on her head, the line of her slender neck and shoulders lovely to look at. In her hands she held a small phallus. The colors were lush, yet subtle at the same time, the overall chiaroscuro giving it a hazy, dreamlike quality that was apparent in all of the paintings.
    Jillian stared at the dildo in the picture. It was lifelike in style and done in great detail. Wonderfully done, though this was not what she needed to cool her blood. But she couldn’t stop looking.
    She forced herself to turn the page. The next painting was of a man with a long, lean body like Cam’s. He leaned against a roughly textured stucco wall, his head back, his eyes closed, while he stroked his erection with his hand. Wrapped around his wrist was a small piece of barbed wire. Jillian realized she was getting wet just looking at it.
    She’d seen some of these paintings in person at the artist’s studio. They hadn’t had this effect on her then. But her response now was entirely different. What had changed?
    It wasn’t the paintings. It was her. Her experience with Cam had awakened her body, her sex drive. Not just awakened it, but blasted it wide open. Now it was a force to be reckoned with, and something she wanted to explore.
    She moved on to the next one. A woman again, this time bound to a tree with what looked to be vines. They wrapped sinuously around her arms and legs, with one piece sliding between her thighs.
    Jillian squeezed her own thighs together beneath her desk. Her sex had begun to throb with need. She got up and went to lock the door of her office.
    The ring of her phone startled her, making her blush as though the caller could see her, knew what she was thinking, feeling. She took a deep breath before she picked it up.
    “F. D. Leighton Gallery. Jillian Ross.”
    “Hey, honey. How’s your day going?” Cam’s deep voice was sexy enough to make her heat up all over again.
    “It’s fine…um, it’s going fine.”
    “You okay? You sound a little out of breath. Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something.”
    You have no idea. “No, just reviewing some pictures.”
    “What kind of pictures?” Cam asked, making her wonder if he really could see through the phone somehow.
    “Uh…” She bit her lip. “They’re just…well, they’re pretty hot, actually.”
    “Tell me about them.”
    “Cam, I don’t think—”
    “That wasn’t a request, Jillian.”
    “Oh.” She was taken a bit by surprise, but his commanding tone had gone straight to her already heated sex.
    “You’re alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Lock your office door.”
    “I, uh, I already have.”
    “Good girl. Are you sitting down?”
    That now-familiar shiver ran through her. “Yes.”
    “Hike your skirt up and spread your thighs. Then tell me what you see.”
    She slid her skirt up around her waist and eased her thighs open. She could hardly catch her breath. “It’s a painting, beautifully done. Very realistic, but sort of soft all over.” She paused to lick her lips. “It’s a large piece of a nude couple entangled. Very sensuous, pretty even. But the man is scratching the woman’s back with a thorny rose. Long, pink grooves are on her buttocks and the back of her thighs.”
    “Does it make you hot, Jillian?” His tone was low and smoky.
    She could barely get the word out. “Yes.”
    “Good. Look at it. And touch yourself for me, just a little.”
    Jillian glanced at her office door, then slipped her hand between her legs. Pushing her panties aside, she drew her fingers across her damp slit and shivered.
    “I can hear your breathing change. I can hear how turned on you are. Do you know what that does to me? I’m