by Qwillia Rain
Mike tensed at the mention of the other man. There was no proof of the activities he suspected Hargreaves was involved in. Activities that would have even a hardened cynic like Max gasping. Instead Mike snapped, “When does Upscale need the proofs, Max.”
“End of the month,” Max grumped.
“You said the photographer bailed on them at the last minute? Did they have a location and date already set?”
“Yeah, that old Catholic mission halfway between Ayerstown and San Diablo this weekend.”
“Tell them I’ll be ready to shoot this weekend, and we’ll change the location to my studio.” He slapped the phone closed without waiting for a reply and shoved it back onto the clip on his belt.
His gaze wandered over the curved gravel drive to the expanse of lawn stretching out on either side of the huge home. Coming through his open truck windows, the sound of the ocean to the west of the house helped soothe the tension from Mike’s shoulders.
Perhaps it was time to cut ties with Max. The man had been a pain in Mike’s ass since he’d told his agent about his plan to set up a studio and retire here in San Diablo. From the seat beside him, Mike grabbed the bag holding his cameras before swinging open the door to his truck. When he’d left Lyssa earlier, he’d told her he had an assignment. He grinned and wondered what she’d do if she knew the job was to take shots of her sister and his brother in an intimate setting.
Again his body responded to the idea of taking the same type of pictures of Lyssa. He could practically see the photos developing in his mind. Images of them making love while cameras recorded every touch, every move. Lyssa’s full curves and sensual nature would only enhance the pictures.
With a spring in his step, he jogged up the stairs onto the porch and knocked on the door. What he wouldn’t give to see Lyssa’s face if she only knew what he’d be doing for the next hour or so.
* * *
Bryce’s studio took up the entire top floor of one of the turrets of the Greek Revival-style mansion. A bed was positioned near the center of the room, covered with cream silk sheets and mussed by the heated movements of the couple occupying it.
The image through the viewfinder was erotic. The thrust of slender fingers through thick, white blond waves; a delicate spine arched, breasts quivering beneath the mouth suckling a taut nipple.
The shutter whirred silently as Mike moved around the room, using the light filtering through the open French doors, wide windows, and broad skylight to highlight the angles of flesh stroking flesh, lips coasting over curves, and the ripple of muscle beneath sweat-soaked, sun-bronzed skin.
Voyeurism was never something that interested him, and even as he shifted to take another series of photographs, Mike viewed the couple making love as subjects rather than a stimulus to his libido, not that he hadn’t seen Bryce and Mattie in similar clinches at the Diablo Blanco Club. Hell, he’d participated in his own sexual exhibitions at the Club in the past, going so far as to engage in a ménage with another dom and his sub, as well as a couple of spankings while other members of the Club looked on.
The connection between his brother and sister-in-law was unique, not because of the sex but because of the trust and commitment between them. Mike had no problem admitting to being somewhat jealous of the bond between Bryce and Mattie. A few weeks ago, he’d been dreading this job because of the continued refusal of the woman he wanted to be with. For the next twenty-one days, though, she was his.
He allowed himself a slight grin as he shifted positions and took another series of photos. Having Lyssa—or more precisely, having the opportunity to be with Lyssa for the next three weeks—went a long way to easing the envious feelings he harbored.
Settling onto one knee, the other upright to prop his arm on and steady the camera, Mike’s body was on autopilot, clicking the button, adjusting an angle, tilting the lens, without any conscious input from his mind. Instead the actions in front of him played out like a sensual film.
The cries slipping from Mattie’s throat as she climaxed resounded against the high, curved roof before echoing off the walls. As Mike watched, his brother drew away from his wife, bracing his forearms on either side of her hips, and carefully studied the woman beneath him.
Mattie’s cheeks flushed at Bryce’s close scrutiny. Mike caught the wave of color rising from her throat and into her face with his camera. Time seemed suspended, leaving Mike breathless at the very stillness of the pair. Bryce’s hands settled over her breasts, causing Mattie to arch again and moan with arousal. From the hardened peaks, Bryce drifted over the plump curves, slowing as his touch reached her belly. Tracing the faint pink lines attesting to her motherhood, it didn’t take long for Mike to figure out what fascinated his brother. When Bryce cradled the lower curve in one hand and dipped his head to kiss the soft skin, Mike squeezed off several shots, capturing the wonder and pride in his older brother’s usually austere expression. He suspected that, based on Mattie’s tiny nod and his brother’s reaction, Bryce had just discovered his wife was pregnant for the third time.
The twinge of envy held Mike still for a moment. Lyssa was the only woman he’d ever imagined having children with. He swallowed back a curse at the thought that a moment as special as this could possibly elude him. Shaking off the momentary melancholy, Mike lifted the camera and refocused on the couple before him.
Moving lower, Bryce eased Mattie’s thighs farther apart and lapped at the bare skin of her pussy. A low, throaty hum of appreciation whispered through the room. “Strawberries.” Bryce chuckled, glancing up into the blushing features of his wife. Dipping his attention back to the delicate flesh before him, Bryce tasted and teased, nibbled and licked the pink folds.
With his camera, Mike captured Mattie’s pleasured expression as her hips arched and her hands tangled in her husband’s hair. Her small heels dug into the silk sheets and thick mattress as she drew her knees up. Keeping his movements slow, Mike stood and backed toward the door, adjusting the setting on the lens to take in the couple and the open French doors behind the bed. Gauzy curtains stirred in the breeze, blowing into the room as Mattie tugged Bryce away from her center. Her mouth claimed his as she shifted her arms to his waist and wrapped her thighs around his hips.
Pulling away, Bryce grinned down at Mattie, his Southern drawl heavy in the stillness of the room. “Is this what you want, baby?” He settled his cock against her damp opening before the motion of his hips and the expression on Mattie’s face confirmed to Mike and his camera that Bryce’s body had mated with his wife’s.
From his position near the door, Mike continued to snap photos as the couple moved together, their bodies straining close, eyes focused only on one another. There was beauty in the way Bryce’s lean body dwarfed his wife’s, and it showed in the images forming in the viewfinder. The disparity in their heights and the lush curves his sister-in-law sported only made the pair a more striking couple.
Bryce had requested he take the photos. Inspiration for one of his paintings, Mike guessed, noting the broad canvas, blank and propped on the paint-splattered easel in one corner of the studio. In his mind he was already skimming through the proofs, identifying the images he would alter, crop the face or blur a feature in order to insure the anonymity before displaying it in his studio.
The edge of the door pressed into his back as it opened behind him. Spinning, he was prepared to halt one of the triplets, most probably Maggie, from entering the room, but instead came face-to-face with Lyssa.
Her blue eyes grew wide at the sight beyond his frame. Unable to halt his wicked grin, he ushered her out of the doorway and into the hall and followed, closing the door quietly behind him.
“I thought you were on assignment this afternoon?” Lyssa stammered. When her gaze dropped to the camera he held in his hand, the pink turned red.
“You might”—Mike enjoyed the tide of embarrassment filling her cheeks at the heated cries filtering through the door as the couple inside reached their climax—“wait a few minu
tes.”
The color deepened as she stared wide-eyed at him. “You were taking pictures?”
“Bryce wanted some for a painting.” There were times like this when he wondered how Lyssa, six years his senior, could seem as naive as a ten-year-old.
“But you were taking pictures of them having sex.” Lyssa shook her head and turned for the stairs.
“Yes. I thought you were working on some of your designs this afternoon.” Mike followed her. He shut the camera off and set the lens cap in place despite his urge to sneak a few pictures without Lyssa knowing.
On the second floor, Lyssa stopped and faced him. He could tell she was fluctuating between surprise and anger. “I was until I got a call from the editor at Upscale. I came out here to talk about it with Mattie. Jake was trying to get all the kids down for their naps, so I helped him, but Maggie isn’t as inclined to sleep as her brothers.”
“So you thought you’d see if Bryce was in his studio?”
“Considering he’s one of the only ones who can get the girl to nap,” Lyssa admitted with a nod.
“True, she’s always been partial to her daddy.”
“Are you trying to distract me from asking what you were doing taking pictures of them like…like that?” Lyssa gestured with her hand toward the stairs leading up to the studio before she crossed her arms over chest.
Her tone verged on disgust, but curiosity was there as well. “Have you ever seen any of Bryce’s paintings?” Mike asked.
“Just the landscapes he has in the office. How does that relate to you standing over them taking pictures while they’re having sex?” From the way she watched him, it was apparent that Lyssa found the incident unnerving.
“Making love,” Mike corrected. “Bryce has never had sex with Mattie.” He leaned close, smoothing his fingers along her jaw before coasting over the curve of her lips. “Just like what we share isn’t sex.”
Lyssa cursed the jump in her pulse and the way her body responded to his touch. It was bad enough that her thighs had turned to gelatin the second she’d spotted his truck when she drove up, but to have her insides go all squishy at the husky way he said “making love” made Lyssa want to vomit. Or wrap her arms around his neck and kiss the breath out of him.
Shaking away the temptation, she took the opportunity to discuss with him what she’d originally thought to talk to her sister about. “I think we have other things to discuss besides our differing opinions regarding our relationship.”
Mike stayed silent. Only the arched eyebrow over his left eye communicated his amusement at her redirecting the conversation.
Lyssa continued, “Vickie called to tell me the photographer bailed on the shoot scheduled for this weekend.”
His expression didn’t betray anything he might be thinking.
“I’m sure your agent called you,” she prodded.
Again he stayed quiet.
Spotting the open door to Bryce’s study, Lyssa grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him into the room. The door made a solid thump when she shut it and turned to face him. “Don’t go all silent dom on me, Michael Jedadiah Halsey. I know you pulled something to mess with my photo shoot.”
“If you mean did I accept the job when the original photographer backed out, then yes, love, I knew about it.” Mike pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist as he stared down at her. “The suggestion, though, that I may have done something regarding the reason the man backed out of the shoot is unfounded. I wasn’t even aware of the assignment before my agent called me two hours ago with the job offer.”
She saw no subterfuge in his eyes. His cool gaze met hers without flinching. “You know I hate last-minute changes, Mike.”
And she always had. Surprises led to unplanned things, which led to feelings. As things were now, she had a pretty good idea what Mike would do at any given moment, and she could deal with it. In the last week, she’d worked very hard to maintain control over her emotions, despite the powerful pull Mike represented. Then there was the constant temptation to give in to her desire to submit to him. If he was upping the ante by horning in on her business, it would mean a whole new set of rules and behaviors. Not to mention requiring she keep up her guard, especially if she was to spend hours watching him flirt and ogle the models selected by Upscale for the shoot.
Before she could sink any lower into the morass of worries, Mike shrugged. “I know you dislike last-minute changes, hon, but this is not my fault. I only agreed to do it because you’re right here and my studio is available.”
There was more to it than that. Lyssa could see it in his eyes, but she wasn’t about to call him on it. “Did your agent tell you the models will be here this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“And did he elaborate on the subject matter of the spread?”
Again Mike nodded. “Wedding gowns.”
Lyssa swallowed, her lungs frozen at the expression on Mike’s face, the gleam in his dark brown eyes, and the way his fingers flexed against her hips and tugged her the slightest bit closer.
“Yes, wedding gowns. And a few formal and cocktail dresses for parties and special events.”
“Are any of them going to look like Mattie’s gown?”
Lyssa shook her head. No one would wear a gown designed by her that resembled the one she’d made for Mattie’s wedding. “No, these are dresses I’ve put together over the last few years.”
“Good.” Mike leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft, more a rubbing of his lips along hers than a full caress. “I don’t think another woman could carry off that particular style with the same panache Mattie did.” He chuckled. “And I sure as hell know no other man but my brother would be able to handle just how sexy it makes a woman look.”
Lyssa smirked, pride filling her at the reminder of Bryce’s heated looks and determination to get Mattie out of the dress as quickly as possible, to hell with propriety and tradition. “As I recall, Bryce did compliment me several times on the design.”
“But only after a very long and satisfying wedding night, if I recall.”
The comment reminded Lyssa of what she’d seen him doing when she’d entered Bryce’s studio. She stiffened in his arms at the thought of Mike taking pictures—intensely intimate pictures—of her sister.
Mike seemed to read her mind. Or perhaps the way she drew away from him was warning enough. “You don’t believe me about the paintings, do you?”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.”
Much to Lyssa’s disappointment, there was no argument from Mike. Instead he released her, took hold of one of her hands, and walked to one of the built-in bookshelves beside the broad fireplace.
His hand coasted along the edge of one of the dark wood edges. A barely audible click sounded, and a gap appeared at the edge of the shelf.
Lyssa blinked and stepped closer. “A secret passage?”
Mike smiled down at her. “Pirate, remember? You don’t honestly think old Cole Halsey would leave anything to chance. Especially where his family was concerned, do you, Lys?”
Mattie had read her some of the entries in the diaries written by Cole and Margaretta Halsey more than two centuries ago. “No, I don’t think he would have left any method of escape unused.”
Considering the dangers associated with his privateer occupation and the barely tamed land he’d won on the turn of a card from the original owner, Lyssa was quite certain Mike’s ancestor would have created several secret passages throughout his home.
Even as Mike led her into the narrow hallway behind the shelf, Lyssa’s mind pondered another question. “Are there any secret areas in the Club?”
Mike stayed silent. He pressed a switch on the wall beside them. A dim glow illuminated the tight hall. When they reached the end, Mike flicked two more switches and extinguished the light in the hall. Light filtered up from below, glowing along a flight of stairs that curved back toward the study and downward.
Th
ey moved down the stairs. At the bottom, the passage branched to the left and right of them. On the right, the path ended at a door. On the left, the hall continued for another ten feet or so before ending in a doorway as well.
Mike turned right and pulled a key from the top of the doorsill. He still held her hand, and once the door swung open, he led her through it and into the room. He flipped the light switch beside them and waited.
Lyssa couldn’t speak. The room was easily the size of the study above them, if not half again as long. The paneled walls with their subdued lights gleaming down on the individual frames reminded Lyssa of a portrait gallery she’d once explored during a trip to New York. In the open areas around the room, small tables and pedestals held sculptures of various materials, from wood to marble. Scattered around the room, set near groups of paintings or statues, were chairs and chaises. Comfortable areas to sit and rest. Or perhaps a bit more.
Mike said nothing. He merely let go of her hand and waited. Speechless, Lyssa was unsure what to say. The paintings were exquisite. It was easy to see they dated back to the years Cole Halsey and his family had resided at Pirate’s Folly. Then there were other portraits from eras following that of Mike’s great-great-grandfather.
And the paintings weren’t the typical portraits either. If Lyssa had complaints about Mike’s taking pictures of her sister and Bryce in flagrante, then she definitely would have to take issue with the subject matter of a few of the paintings. And it wasn’t just paintings hanging on the wall. There were also photographs. Some of the pictures dated back to the era when cameras were first developed.
The sculptures weren’t much different. There were several marble and stone pieces depicting sexual acts and embraces that increased Lyssa’s heartbeat. As she made her way back toward Mike, she halted near a group of paintings and photographs. One stole her breath, while a second brought tears to her eyes. Mike stepped up behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders.
He said nothing, but he seemed to read what stirred within her. One photograph Lyssa recognized from her sister’s wedding day. She recalled catching a glimpse of Mattie and Bryce as they stood near the picture window looking out onto the back lawn. The setting sun bathed them in gold and fiery red as Bryce held Mattie’s left hand in his, his right arm wrapped around her waist, her back snug against the front of his body.