Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

Oh jeez. Why didn’t he say something already? If this was what her show was going to be like she would lose her mind. And he hadn’t even gotten to the motorcycle rider. Sam’s palms got sweaty.

“I’m going to make another cup of coffee, you have at it,” Sam said, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

• • •

Mark watched her steeled back retreat. Good, maybe now he could think up something to say and stop being this silent clown. But seeing that painting with the motorcycle rider snatched any words from his mind. What the hell did it mean? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound either incredibly arrogant or all out stupid? But it wasn’t arrogance or fear really that silenced him; it was the fact that he was humbled. Humbled over the fact that she was thinking of him enough for it to in some way have influenced her work. He didn’t know what to say. And yes, he knew it was him. He’d know his bike anywhere. Stepping up to the painting he peered closer. Was that? Freaking A. It was even his tattoo, the shadow hinted at, peeking from the rider’s tee. He frowned and rubbed his forehead, his hand unconsciously going to his brow.

Mark mumbled, “This woman could unwittingly be the death of you.”

He heard an indrawn breath and looked up. Samara was staring at him, holding two coffee cups with the coolest expression he had ever seen. “Trust me, Mr. Thorn, when it comes to death anyone can tell you that I don’t play around and I’d never do it unwittingly.”

Something in her expression made his eyes narrow. He had hit her and hit her hard.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

She shrugged. “And I really didn’t mean for you to see that painting, but I wasn’t thinking clearly when I invited you up here, so I guess we’re even. It won’t happen again.”

His brows shot up. “What won’t happen again? Has my invite been revoked? Don’t you want to know what I think of your work?”

She stared at him for what felt like a long time before she opened her mouth. “Not really.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Better to develop that thick skin now, because I’m sure the art world can’t wait to eat you alive.”

“I’m sure they can’t. But they’ll have to get in line.” And in that instant he saw it. That hint of hurt and vulnerably that she tried so hard to hide. She needed to be the one that threw the first punch since the world had kicked her down so many times already.

He stepped forward, not quite sure what he was going to do — reach out or leave her to herself. Leaving was probably the right thing to do. He knew it was the smart thing. But he looked down. She was gripping the coffee cups so tightly he was afraid she could shatter the fragile glass. He leaned in toward her ear. “Well, Miss Leighton, they’ll have to get past me first in order to get to you and I don’t plan on letting that happen.”

He watched as she drew in a breath and her chest rose and fell.

“I know it doesn’t matter and I know that I really don’t know all that much about art, but you are one talented ass woman.”

He saw something in her visibly release and she looked around, setting the cups on a nearby work table before turning back to him. Something flashed in those eyes. Something he couldn’t read.

“Miss Leighton, you’ve got to give me more to go on than that. I’m really not a mind reader.”

She blinked, lowered her lashes, and shook her head. “What time do you have, Mr. Thorn?”

He frowned and glanced at his watch. “Five after seven.”

She then gave him the sexiest, most kick ass, most dick hardening, most bring him to his knees smile of his life.

“Just perfect. It’s almost dinnertime.”

He was like a ripe fruit bursting to fullness on her tongue and she wanted to drink in all of his rich juices in one gulp. Sam pulled back, scanned Mark’s full lips, chiseled cheeks, and dark fiery eyes, and before he could protest she leaned back in. But he leaned in too and they met in a clash of tongues and teeth and all breathless energy. He sank into her. God, he was so hard and muscular and Sam was hit once again by the force of his rock hard chest and strong arms as they circled around her body. She was so excited, she was ready to explode, and Sam knew she had to find some cool, just a little sense of control or she’d go ripping at his shirt like a wild animal. But obviously Mark felt it too, because in that moment he rubbed against her, his essence, hard and full as he moaned against her lips. “Jeeze, I’m going to lose it, here and now,” he said, pulling back, away from her.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Samara growled against his lips. “There is no way you’re getting away from me now.” She tipped up on her toes, took his bottom lip between her teeth, and gave it a tug. The man was delicious. Delicious and dangerous and decadent like rich chocolate and she wanted him no matter what it did to her diet. She leaned in and pushed up against him, her already hardened nipples getting just that much harder through the lace of her bra and the thin rib of her top as they grazed against his chest some more. She angled the rest of her body in and groaned. He was hard and huge all over. Her hands, spread wide across his chest, practically itched to trail further down. She took a deep breath. Was this what her coffee rouse was all about? Not long ago, she was brunching with Peter Moss. Daddy’s golden boy. But Mark was everything that Peter was not. He was clearly the stuff of her fantasies. The thing that literally got her juices flowing. And, if truth be told, now her muse.

Could he be just what she needed or was he just another diversion? A road to her further destruction? But then his lips started to wander down to her neck and all conscious thought vanished as a shiver ran through her being. The shiver was automatic and uncontrollable as he brushed over just the right spot and his hands, oh damn, his hands, were firm and sure as they cupped her behind and pulled her in closer to him, one traveling up the side of her waist to graze the underside of her breasts. She was melting. And melting meant a loss of control. To bring herself back and not to completely puddle out, Sam let her own hands roam as her lips went to the corded muscle at his neck. She found his pulse point and suckled. He moaned and she didn’t resist the slight smile that came to her lips. Her hands veered downward between them and as she reached for his hardness she was rewarded with another moan, one that verged on a groan. Her smile went wider.

“You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he whispered against her ear.

“What, and you aren’t?” she breathed.

“As you can tell, I am,” he ground out as if torn between pleasure and pain.

She couldn’t help running her hand up the length of him, enjoying every inch. But then he reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled it to her side. “No, sweetheart, not so fast. You’ll undo me. And I like to take my time.”

Something in the way he said it, that low rumble, had her just about ready to explode right then and there, fully dressed in the doorway of her studio. That sure voice of his — so full of assuredness and a promise and definite satisfaction. She wanted more. She pushed against him. “Who says we have time?”

But then Mark leaned in and with sure and steady hands pulled her tightly to him. “Like I said, I don’t like to rush.”

And suddenly she was up, being lifted and now floating as Mark carried her easily from her studio back toward the living room. Out of her peripheral view, she saw the painting with the motorcycle rider retreating in the distance, while her own rider carried her off to her fantasy.

Sam knew she should say stop, but there was no way that word was leaving her lips. Her lips were primed and ready for something else. Full and swollen, wanting nothing more than to be on his. To feel him again. She leaned in and inhaled him. Sam pressed her lips to his slightly rough jaw, enjoying the feel of the scrape against her tender flesh. Sam closed her eyes and relished the sensation of being in the air, supported by his strength, surrounded by his scent. But then she was falling, tumbling, being gently lowered to the couch below. She opened her eyes as a moment of fear gripped her — but there he was. All wide and solid and staring back at her.

His darkness froze her for a moment. That strong jaw and flaring nose, the deep intensity of his eyes that threatened to see too much. She suddenly felt full. Full of a feeling that she couldn’t understand. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt while at the same time, like something she’d only dared dream of. Her heart pounded and her mouth watered. Sam brought her hand up to touch his brow as he leaned in toward her so tenderly her breath caught.

She pulled back as if burned and he stilled, pinning her with his intense gaze. “Don’t worry, Miss Leighton, there is nothing to fear with me.”

“Who says I’m afraid?”

He leaned in and kissed the inside of her upturned palm. “It’s just you seemed a little startled for a moment.”

She shook her head and looked up at him, boldly wiggling against his still hard erection. “No, Mr. Thorn. I just had a little minor twitch. Nothing to be concerned about.” She wrapped a confident hand around his neck and pulled him toward her, looking him in the eye. “Now where were we?” she breathed close to his mouth.

She watched as Mark’s eyes briefly focused on her and then somehow through her and then past, taking in the room, their surroundings, and back to her all in the space of a brief second or two. She refused to flinch. “We were right where we are,” he finally said. “With you calling the shots. It will be hard, but I can still leave. All you have to do is say the word, but I’m warning you, one more of those sweet assed little wiggles and thigh tightening things from you, and I may not be able to be as gentlemanly as I have been.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she quipped back and wiggled against him boldly.

“And you test me again? Woman, you are going to be an interesting neighbor.”

“How about you let me show you just how interesting?”

And with that, Samara arched up, reaching around Mark’s neck to pull his lips down to hers once more. This time she noticed he didn’t hold back. It was as if he had been waiting for her invitation and now that he’d had it, he was ready to let loose.

Without hesitation he ran his tongue over the crease of her lips, forcing her mouth open, connecting with her tongue, swirling and twining, causing ripples of pleasure to undulate through her body. She moaned against him and he suddenly pulled back, causing her to gasp in unrestrained anguish.

All she knew in that moment was that she wanted to pull him right back down toward her, but he looked down at her with hooded eyes as he swiftly pulled off his tee revealing all those muscles that she’d only dared imagined.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she chided herself for her foolish musings. Damn. She’d never rightly envisioned what he’d really held underneath those tees. All those muscles, strong and well defined, but still somehow natural looking and not gym rat induced, but just there. As if he were made from God’s imagination and not man’s. He was lightly tanned with feathered hairs that ran across his dark brown nipples. Sam squinted and caught a hint of a scar just below his ribs, bringing to mind that incident he seemed to brush off so lightly only moments before. She looked up at him. “This looks pretty serious. You care to talk about it a little more?”

He grinned, raising a brow, looking every bit the devil. “Not right now I don’t.”

She raised her hands and ran shaky fingers across that maddening brow. Gently touching the small scar right above. “And this?”

It was then that the playful eyes went dark and bit more dangerous. Her breath caught. “No, Miss Leighton I definitely don’t. Let’s just say that one has taught me you shouldn’t play with fire.” He licked his lips and nudged at her, his erection hard and insistent. “Too bad, I’m a slow learner.”

Desire raged through Samara as Mark pierced her with his gaze. Her eyes trailed down to tapered abs and she found herself unconsciously swallowing. All thoughts of talk, scars, and anything else fluttered away. She let out a sigh then looked up, catching a glimmer of a smile playing on the corner of his lips. He knew he had her.

“Seriously, Miss Leighton. You keep looking at me like that and I just may blush.” His voice rolled over her, causing her to swallow once again. She had to get a hold on this.

“It would seem you have the upper hand, Mr. Thorn, and that doesn’t sit well with me.” With that she gave him a slight push and he leaned back further giving her an even better view of all that gloriousness, but she caught herself and gave him a good stare as she reached for the hem of her own top and pulled it up over her head. For her reward she got her own swallow, a low moan, and the faintest blush from him that had her grinning.

“Well played. Tables turned.”

She’d never seen a man so in awe in her life. And never had one actually blushed at the sight of seeing her naked. She was so used to them playing it cool or getting right down to the action that she didn’t know how to react.

Samara leaned up and kissed him. She knew this was wrong and that it would probably mean having to give up the best apartment she’d ever had, but Mark Thorn was worth risking prime New York real estate. She tenderly kissed the vein calling her from his collarbone. It pulsed under her tongue. Mark leaned his head back, giving her more access, and her kisses trailed lower, stopping over his nipples and then his heart. He reached for her head and held it close for a moment; she felt his life under her lips for one beat. Then another. Gently, he pushed her head back down toward the couch.

Mark’s eyes were full of dark fire as he leaned over Samara, going for her breasts with surprisingly gentle kisses through the lace of her bra that had her arcing up and rubbing her nipples against his teeth, aching for more. But still he teased and took his head further down, trailing those kisses toward the center of her stomach, causing it to flutter as the butterflies untangled and his thumbs came up to replace where his lips had been. One of her hands reached out to clutch the loose couch cushions as the other ran across his closely shaved head. Then he trailed back up, easily unhooking her bra and freeing her breasts, gently swirling his tongue over one and then the other. Sam’s center turned to molten liquid and she thought she would burn up from the inside out.