Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance) (23 page)

He pulled her toward him and kissed her. Long and deep. And then he was suddenly hungry for her all over again, the need to have her so urgent it felt like his next breath. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth and gave it a suckle as he slipped his hand between her legs, reaching for her hard nub as he slid a finger deep into her channel. She gasped and the sound made him throb even harder. It was practically painful. “I have to have you now. Please tell me I can.”

She looked at him hard for a moment, all the shades going down. “You can trust me,” she said.

He let out a breath and blinked back tears. “And you can trust me,” he croaked out before lifting her and replacing his finger with his full length, throwing his head back against the cool porcelain in complete ecstasy as her perfect, warm tightness wrapped around him like a handmade glove.

She placed her gentle but firm hands around his head and guided, pulling him toward her breasts. Following her direction, Mark happily lapped at her wet nipples, drawing the dark peaks into his mouth, circling them with his tongue and tugging on them with tiny bites. Samara clamped tightly around him, her thighs clenching on the sides of his hips as she let his head go and suddenly put her hands on either side of the tub, using it for leverage to piston herself up and down, over him faster and faster.

He felt her reaching her peak, as her inner walls tightened and she quivered around him. “Oh God, Mark. Oh God.”

He looked up at her glorious face, flush with beauty, and once again all he could think of was forever as he felt an overwhelming tightening deep within his balls. Mark bit down on his bottom lip as he fought against the inevitable and thankfully at the last moment something in his mind clicked and he grabbed Samara by the hips and lifted her quivering body from his length one moment before he spilled into her. He leaned his head back against the tub, once again laboring for breath as Sam came forward and crashed into him.

“Let’s never let the outside world in here with us okay, neighbor?” she said. “In here with you is perfection.”

Mark just nodded, pushing his own ache aside, and kissed the top of Samara’s head as he rubbed her smooth back. “Sure, neighbor. Why mess with perfection?”

Samara walked a virtual duality tightrope for the next few weeks. True to Mark’s words, she was like the woman with two, really, sometimes it was three faces, and though she was tired she’d never felt more alive.

She’d just gotten home from yet another brunch with her mother, where thankfully they were not joined by a drop in Dominique or Peter Moss, but it was clear the Mosses had become quite intertwined with the Leightons in the time that Sam had been hiding out in Paris. Sam frowned as she contemplated that turn of events. Peter’s father, Thomas Moss, was obviously looking to get in on the back end of some of her father’s upcoming deals, as was Peter with the Harlem project. The whole thing rubbed her the wrong way, but with her show coming up so soon and her vow to keep out of her father’s business she didn’t really see a way to stick her nose in more than she had already.

Sam kicked off her low heels and tugged off her slim, silk pants as her eyes hovered over the settee at the foot of her bed. Her breath hitched as she recalled the erotic position that Mark had her in over the curved edge not that many hours before. She shook her head and sat down hard, stopping to catch her breath. Jeez. This burning at all ends was starting to tire her out. How much longer could she go on being all things to all people?

She had adopted the one face of dutiful daughter, meeting her mother for lunches and not even grinding her teeth too much when her father would join them and hound her about coming back to work in the family business. He was actually backing off a bit. And she was sure that was due to her acquiescing and seeing Peter on a more regular basis, or maybe it was her newfound interest in the Harlem project. Daddy didn’t seem to like her line of questioning.

As for Peter, they had gone out a few more times. Always to one of his restaurants or clubs. And, it just so happened, always when there was a strategic photographer there to capture their arrival or departure. The press so far had all been kind. It seemed her dust up from weeks ago had died down since an underage starlet had been caught shoplifting at a trendy boutique. New York, it seemed, was now ready to bring Sam back into its good graces.

Sam shook her head. There was no time for this. She shoved her coral painted toenails into the legs of her jeans, quickly pulled on a tank, and headed into her studio to put the finishing touches on her current project before Lauren came by to view where she was on the pieces.

Pulling back from her current painting, Sam gave it a critical look as she put her brush down, satisfaction blooming in her chest. It was a night scene of children playing baseball on an overgrown little league field up in Harlem. All the talk about her father’s current project had her curious and she ended up having Mark take her up to the location one night. There they came across the boys playing on the field and she reeled off a few shots as inspiration.

If she admitted it, inspiration has been hitting her hard and often since she’d finished the portrait of Mark, since she’d given herself over to her feelings for him. Now her work had never been better. She grinned. And neither had her sex life. But it wasn’t just the sex. She and Mark now had an unspoken rapport. A thing that neither of them defined, but still, they had it. She’d work for hours and then come knocking on his door or he’d come knocking on hers after he’d gotten through with a job. They wouldn’t always make love, though it often ended up that way. If he came by and she was still working, sometimes he’d just sit and watch her. Sit in what she now thought of as his chair until she was done and her brushes were cleaned and put away. He never rushed her or pushed her but still somehow his energy seemed to spur her on. And sometimes she’d go and watch him work on his own projects, though he didn’t seem to like it all that much. He really was way more talented than he let on. Making beautiful, pieces of modern, functional art out of hunks of what some would consider nothing.

But how much longer could this go on? Her show was in just a couple of weeks and it would be time for life to change and decisions to be made once again.

Like it or not, she would have to put up or shut up. She knew that Peter was angling to do something big once the show was over and her family was behind it all the way. Her father wanted a partner and an heir and if she wasn’t going to be it, then she needed to produce it.

The door buzzer rang, causing Sam to snap out of her reverie. Crap. Lauren was early and, seriously, once again the doorman just let a guest up? She didn’t want to complain to management, but if she had to she would. She picked up her rag and wiped her hands, going to open her door.

“You’re early,” she said, her mouth gaping open in shock at seeing Mark there instead of Lauren.

“Yes, about eight hours.”

“Mark.” Sam grinned at his reference to his late night standard visits, but then nervousness rose up as she saw the frown between his brow and the worry clearly clouding his eyes. She reached out, grabbing his wrist, and pulled him inside.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Sam could feel her brows draw together, instantly hurt that he would take that tone, cutting her off and cutting her out. “I asked, so how can it be a bother?”

His eyes swept up to hers and he let out an anguished breath. “Shit, Sam, I don’t know why I’m here.”

Confusion and fear suddenly gripped at her. Just minutes ago, she was wondering if she should break things off with Mark and now she found it hard to breathe, worried over the fact that his next words may be that he never wanted to see her again. She forced her breathing to slow and fought to find her voice.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I have to go out of town to Vegas for a few days.”

Vegas? Ok, that she could handle. Well, unless he was going to see some lost love. “Why?”

“Someone very close to me is ill and I have to go and see him. He practically helped raise me.”

The room seemed to spin and Sam started to breathe again. She let out an audible breath as she stepped into Mark’s arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

He gently pushed her back and looked down at her, confusion in his eyes. “Funny, you don’t sound sorry.”

She looked up at him, everything at once going soft as all her fear bunched up and the emotion came crashing down on her. “Don’t mind me. I really am sorry.” She paused for a moment as anxiety grabbed at her once more and she shoved it aside, letting her reckless spirit take over. “Hey there, Mr. Thorn. Do you mind if I go with you to give you a little company? I could use getting away for a couple of days before my show.”

She saw confusion and something else that she couldn’t explain flicker in Mark’s eyes before his expression smoothed and his lips stretched into a wide smile. “Sure, Miss Leighton. I’d love nothing more.”

• • •

Mark was at war with his emotions throughout the fight to Vegas, on the touchdown, and all the way to the hospital. The only thing that gave him any measure of soothing comfort was to periodically look down and see his own large hand intertwined with Samara’s delicate but capable one. She had not let him go since they left New York. Placating him with easy chatter, getting him to open up a bit about his wild years and how it was Ray that opened his eyes and got him back on the straight and narrow when it seemed he was about to lose his way. He told her, not all, but some of how he never knew his father and how Ray, a family friend and neighborhood bike shop owner, was the only father type figure in his life, pretty much always there for him when no other man was. Kicking him in the ass when he needed it and being the steady sounding board when he needed that too. It was Ray who’d given him his strong determination, love of woodworking, and bikes. How it was Ray who’d let him know he could get back on his feet after he’d gotten shot. And most importantly, it was Ray who’d kept him sane when he was going off the rails during his mother’s health scare. He owed so much to him. And now to her. She couldn’t know how much it meant to him to have her by his side now to go and see his old friend. How much it meant when she leaned down and put her beautiful lips to his undeserving callused hands. He sucked in a breath and held it.

And he would swear he didn’t let it out until he walked into the hospital room and cast eyes on Ray himself.

“Oh shit, kid. How in the hell did you find out I was here?” Ray had turned from where he was looking out the window from his hospital bed at the view of the desert mountains to greet Mark walking in.

“As if I’d reveal my sources, old man.” Mark smiled and breathed freely for the first time since he’d heard about Ray’s heart attack. Just seeing him in person brought to mind his mother and all he could think of was how close he’d gotten to losing her and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to lose Ray. At barely seventy, he still had plenty of life yet to live.

Ray shook his close cropped gunmetal grayed head. “When I get sprung from here I’m going to give that nosy bodied niece of mine what for and good.”

The hospital room’s door opened and a petite woman with a short bob and a no nonsense demeanor walked in with Samara following cautiously behind her. She’d wanted to let Mark enter first, giving him a moment with Ray. “Oh please, Uncle Ray, hush,” the woman said. “As if I’m scared of you. Maybe now you’ll listen to me and stop trolling all those senior hall dances. You know those women are wild, Viagra being thrown about like Tic-Tacs.” She turned to Mark and angled up, pulling him into a big bear hug. “It’s been too long, Big Guy.”

“Hey, Mel,” Mark said, pulling back to look at her. “You’re looking great.”

Mel waved a hand. “Oh please, I’m looking old. My kids are trying to kill me, but hey, if they think they will, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Mark grinned. “I’m sure they do.”

Melody nodded over toward Samara. “So this one belongs to you? I found her out in the hall looking like a lost sheep.”

He looked over at Sam and then stepped to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist, not sure how to answer that question. Could he ever rightfully claim her? It brought a twist to his gut. Mark cleared his throat. “Mel, this is Samara Leighton.”

Melody’s eyes narrowed just a hint. “Of Leighton Industries, Leighton?”

Mark couldn’t help but notice the tension that came to Sam as her back instantly went steel straight and he saw the mask start to form. “The one and only,” she said, all coolness.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought I recognized you and wanted to make sure I had it straight and wasn’t just looking at you all goofy like a weirdo, playing that ‘is it’ or ‘is it not’ guessing game. Don’t you hate when people do that?”

Mark felt Sam relax under his arms as Uncle Ray spoke up. “Hey, don’t mind Run On Mouth over there. I sure don’t. Now let me get a look at you. Thorny’s never brought a girl around.” Mark caught the pointed look Ray gave him over Sam’s head. He thankfully said not another word but his look spoke volumes about a talk to come later.

“Hey,” Mel protested. “You’re getting on me and you dare call him Thorny in front of her? Dang, Uncle Ray. She’ll think we’re hillbillies or something.”

“Oh, she’ll think no such thing, will she, Thorny?” Ray said, giving Sam a wink.

Mark leaned down and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “Remind me why I was worried again?”

• • •

Sam couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as she took in a very lively Ray, despite his recent attack, and a now fussing over him, propping pillows and pouring water Melody. She and her uncle clearly did well in their cantankerous dynamic. Ray asked about her kids and questioned her over the running of his bike shop — of which, it turned out, she was the manager.

Suddenly Sam thought of her father, getting a little greyer each year, and got a hitch in her chest over their relationship.