Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series) (20 page)

“You’ve been with me all morning.”

“Not
in
you.”

Zee whimpered. His words shot like an arrow straight to her pulsing sex. Jagger growled against her mouth. “I have to have you again. Here. Now.” He placed her hand over the hard, hot length of him. “I’m ready to burst out of my skin.”

Before she knew it, he had her naked except for the heat-inspiring tank top. She was laid out on top of him being kissed senseless. His bold caresses quickly erased any inhibitions. Her body trembled with a need fiercer than any she’d ever known. Her hands felt clumsy with impatience as she grabbed for him.

“Straddle me.” The husky roughness of his voice washed over her. Desire pooled between her thighs as she slipped one leg over his hip and positioned herself so his granite erection lay against her heat.

Jagger’s gaze held hers in their blue edged oasis. His lips parted as she raised herself up. Gripping her hips his eyes closed and a low strangled moan sounded low in his throat as she lowered herself down onto him. A pleasured gasp escaped her.

“Do it again,” he rasped.

“D-do what again?” she panted.

He clutched at her, holding tight inside her. “Arch your back.”

Zee did, and the shift in the position of her pelvis tipped her so Jagger touched a new glorious place within her. She melted into the feeling and made small movements over him. The sensations rose and crested like one giant wave.

“Slower,” he warned. “I’ll finish too fast.”

She stopped moving and he moaned louder. “Is that slow enough?” she teased. Zee felt him pulse within her.

“You’re trying to drive me crazy,” Jagger panted.

Being in control was a heady feeling. It felt empowering knowing her effect on him; knowing she could bring him to his release but wanting to prolong his pleasure…and hers.

Lifting herself, she began a slow rhythm. Jagger hands swept up to knead her breasts and she closed her eyes to revel in the feel of it. She arched her spine once more. Zee felt the swell of her own building climax. Soon any thought of control was gone as the impatience of her body took over. She held firm to Jagger, riding the intensity of her orgasm. Crying out as he swirled a thumb over the taut, swollen flesh where they were joined. Zee tightened her thighs and bucked against him again and again in a fiery press. Her body seemed to burst into a thousand crystal lights.

Strong hands grabbed roughly at her hips. Jagger’s powerful thrusts lifted her. She felt the wetness of her release flood between them. Sweat shimmered on his carved chest as it heaved under her hands. Fingers bit into her flesh as he ground out her name between clenched teeth, his body surging beneath her.

Jagger pulled her forward to lie against his chest. “Bloody hell, woman!” Still joined, his steely arms held her tight as they both struggled to catch their breath. Zee felt the pounding of his heart beneath her cheek. He growled into her hair. “Who said you weren’t good at this?”

Zee couldn’t find the words to respond. A sparkling hum glittered through her limbs as she rained kisses down the side of his neck still feeling the mad rhythm of his pulse beneath her lips.

Never had she felt so free, and yet so captured. His breath brushed her cheek. “I’m gonna have this top classified as a deadly weapon.” He gripped her tank in two fists. “I’m taking it as a souvenir.”

“I’ll trade you.”

“What do you want?”

You.
The word filled her heart.
“I’ll think of something.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours.” His voice was low and husky. “You get anything you want today, my famous artist. Don’t think I forgot about your big news.” Jagger’s hold tightened. “I’m so proud of you.”

Everything Zee’d ever dreamed of was here at her fingertips. She didn’t need anything else. The thought was thrilling and frightening. It was all happening at once. All her wishes were coming true. It was overwhelming, and yet in Jagger’s arms everything felt right.

Zee could not say how long they lay entwined, but she knew the exact moment Jagger drifted off to sleep. Slowly, she got up, covered him, and gathered her clothes.

Part of her still couldn’t believe it.
Please don’t let me be dreaming.
Her and Jagger? Their incredible weekend together. Here, now.

When had she become a passionate woman having mind-blowing sex in the back of a van? What happened to the neurotic girl in granny panties?

Jagger. He’d happened. He’d seen her even with all her flaws and still thought she was sexy. He wanted her. She wanted him, too. Maybe too much. She couldn’t let herself be swept away by all of this. She needed to keep her head. This was bigger than stripping off an ugly sweatshirt and falling into bed. At least for her. This was opening her heart and handing it to a man who was honest enough to tell her he was just passing through. He’d blown into her life and would breeze out just as quickly. So much for all her defenses. Jagger had blown those away as well.

Did she honestly believe she could keep her heart out of this? All she had to do was look at his face to know it was too late for that. She was falling for him. Hard.

What was going to happen when he left? Zee envisioned images from news reports after a storm has blown through a neighborhood.
No! Stop!
She refused to let her thoughts go there. Not today. Not when she was feeling like this. Not when she was so close to having everything she’d ever wanted.

She was happy, dammit! Happier than she could ever remember being. She wouldn’t let herself think about all the
what if’s
and spoil that. Not today.

Zee opened the van’s door and threw her sweatshirt out into the parking lot. She slipped back into Jagger’s bed. Back into his arms. He murmured her name.

“Shhh…go back to sleep,” she whispered.

“Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Zee gave his lips a tiny kiss. He sighed as she laid her cheek against his chest.

God help me, I’m in love with the wind
.

****

Later Jagger insisted Zee go home and get some sleep of her own. She had a big day ahead of her and she still needed to list and organize a measured inventory of what pieces she was going to present to Daniel Bruce.

Jagger also insisted on following her back to her building. He worried that Ed would strike again. Zee was grateful, but she felt sure George’s scream had most certainly taken care of the Ed problem.

“You can put away your cape, Superman. Ed knows we’re on to him now. But—” She reached out to stroke his chest. “I will miss you tonight. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

“If I come upstairs several things are going to happen and none of them have anything to do with getting your things ready for your meeting tomorrow, Ms. Gallery Star. You need to rest.” He pulled her into his arms and spent the next ten minutes saying good-bye.

They made out pressed against his van like a couple of teenagers. “I’d like to sweep you into my arms and carry you up to your apartment and tuck you into bed. Now if you only lived on the
third
floor,” he teased. “Tomorrow night, we’ll celebrate. I’ll get some champagne and—”

“No champagne. Not yet. I don’t want to jinx this.”

“Jinx it?”

“I haven’t even met Mr. Bruce. He may change his mind. I think we should hold off getting too excited.”

Jagger held her face in his hands. “He’s going to love you. He already loves your work. You’re the dux. You know, the best. He’s giving you a whole show. What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried, just cautious. I don’t want to do anything to ruin it.”

“Nothing’s going to ruin it. It’s going to be great. It will be an amazing night. You’ll see.” He nuzzled her ear. “You’ll just have to wait to see the little trick I can do with champagne.”

“Oh?” Zee’s body tingled at the breathy possibilities. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

Jagger laughed. “Go upstairs before I change my mind. We’ll still do something special tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Next morning, Zee wrapped the painting of Jagger along with several others and more than a dozen fixed charcoal sketches. Then she headed down to the city to meet the great Daniel Bruce.

All during the drive, she replayed the conversation she’d had with Madeline. She couldn’t let Stoddard go down without a good fight. She couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip past. She’d finally get the recognition she’d worked all those hours, days and weeks, nights and weekends to achieve. It would all be worth it. The fellowship would be hers. She’d be a true artist.

As if battling I-93 traffic to get into the city hadn’t been enough, just entering the gallery overwhelmed her. The Bruce Gallery was sleek and sophisticated. Soft music filtered through the air. The current display was an edgy collection of stark black and white photography. Zee tried to walk on tiptoe so her heels wouldn’t click on the polished floor. It felt like she was in church and needed to be reverent.

“Ms. Lambert!” A booming voice behind her sent her heart pounding. She turned to find the man himself. Daniel Bruce was everything she imagined. Hair dark as onyx grayed handsomely at his temples. Could his eyes really be that blue? Here was the man that set the stars in the sky, at least in the art world. He was loud and gregarious, tailored and sophisticated. He filled the room.

“Mr. Bruce, it’s a true pleasure to meet you.”

“No, Ms. Lambert, the pleasure is mine. Please call me Daniel. May I call you—what exactly is your first name?”

She cringed. “Zee works best for me.”
I loathe my mother.
“I’m not against changing it.”

Daniel laughed. “I like it. It’s very unique. I can work with unique.”

“My mother will be ecstatic to hear that.”
Okay, maybe loathe was too strong a word.

“Well, Zee, I’m totally enamored with your work, and I couldn’t wait to tell you so.”

Daniel wasted no time. For the next hour, exactly to the minute according to the huge gold watch he wore, Daniel gave her a tour of the gallery space. He discussed the amount of work proposed and the space requirements. His flamboyance was only exceeded by his sense of swift efficiency.

After the tour he escorted her to a sleek office of black and chrome. The only color came from a silver vase of full-blown, fuchsia peonies on a side-board. They perfectly matched the tip of satin handkerchief peeking out of the breast pocket of his dark suit.

“Show me, show me.” He reached for her portfolio and plucked it from Zee’s chilled fingers. She focused on keeping air moving in and out of her lungs while she watched him scrutinize her work.

For a long time, he said nothing. After the booming sound of his voice for the past hour, the silence screamed at Zee. Piece by piece he laid everything out on the huge expanse of ebony desktop.

“Well now, you’ll forgive me, I have a reputation for being very blunt. I don’t like this one. Or, that one.” He moved the two offending pieces to one side. Zee’s stomach fell through the floor. “But this”—he held a sketch up and studied it closely—“I
love
this. And this, and this one. These as well. As a whole, I’m very impressed. You have some pieces here that I just adore. I’ll need more, of course.” He looked over the array before him. “Yes, I think you’re about to make quite a name for yourself. With my help, of course.”

Zee released the breath she’d been holding. “Really?”

“Ms. Lambert, I’m an art agent. I don’t dole out compliments on a whim to make artists feel better. This is my business, and I’m damn good at it. I know talent when I see it and I’m not shy about saying so.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s why I’ll do your talking for you, my dear.” Daniel pointed to the wrapped painting of Jagger. Zee held it close, unsure whether to unveil it or not. “What is that one?”

“Oh. I don’t know about this one. It’s a very new piece, a total departure for me. I’m concerned it will not be in keeping with the collection as a whole. I like it, but…”

“Let me be the judge.”

Unwrapping Jagger’s painting caused a flush of warmth to Zee’s cheeks. She should have left it home. It was too off the mark. Too dissimilar. Too personal. It was her heart.

Daniel held the painting in front of him. Standing, he moved to catch the light from a different angle. He said nothing. His silence was deafening. Zee wanted to snatch it away from him. He walked it to another light, and held it aloft.

“You’ve been holding out on me, my dear woman.
This
is your
Starry Night
. This is your
David
. It’s your spotlight piece. What is your selling price? I may just buy it myself right this moment and slap a huge SOLD sign on it.

“I can’t. I— That one isn’t for sale.”

“Ms. Lambert, the success of any artist is measured in the sale of their work.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that, Mr. Bruce. I mean, Daniel. I just can’t sell that piece. Not yet. I’ll agree to show it, but I can’t give permission to sell it.” Zee crossed her arms hugging them close.

“Fair enough. I’ve worked with artists for so long, I know better than to try and argue.” He took a business card out of his suit pocket and handed it to her. “Here is the name of the man who does framing for the gallery. He’s the best and if you let him know the work is coming here, he’ll give you a break on the price. I think simple frames on the sketch work, but I’d love to see this piece in something wide and rich. If you’d prefer, I can handle the framing end of things and work the cost into the commission fee.”

“I trust your judgment. Your gallery is always breathtaking. I still can’t believe all this is happening.”

“Believe it. You do exceptional work. You’ll see, after the show, your phone will be ringing off the hook with clients wanting to commission you. Your work will be a hit. I can see it now. You’ll be this season’s hottest new artist.”

He made some quick notes. “So, I’ll handle the framing. We’ll take a few minutes to inventory everything and work out the final figures. You’ll have more for me, of course, but call with sizes and I’ll have everything waiting. We need to move on this if we’re going to make the opening in four weeks. It’s horribly last minute, I know, but I’m certain the caliber of your work will bring people in regardless.”