by Cali MacKay
Yet as she got ready to shed her robe so he could paint her, she found it impossible to control her nerves and the flutters in her stomach. She told herself that he’d already seen her naked when he’d kept her from dying of hypothermia, and that this was art. It was a job, plain and simple—a job that was paying her a million dollars for six months of work.
The studio was a good size, located in a part of the mansion that jutted out, so that it got plenty of natural light from the three walls of massive windows. There was a chaise, and a bed, plenty of chairs, a thick plush rug in front of a massive marble fireplace that had a raging fire going, and of course, a large table and a variety of shelves with all of Jackson’s art supplies.
She watched as he set up, not quite sure what to do with herself, and the inactivity was doing little to calm her. Needing to work through her nerves, she decided to wander, even if she felt practically naked padding around the room in nothing but a silky robe. She couldn’t help but linger where he’d left some of his paintings propped against the wall or sitting on easels, his work stunningly gorgeous. It was easy for her to forget that he was a famous—and somewhat mysterious—artist, but as she looked at the canvases he’d set aside, she had no doubt as to why his work was so sought after.
There was a raw beauty and energy in his works, as if his strokes had captured both emotion and light, dancing across the canvas to come to life. And then she spotted an all too familiar face, quickly brushed onto the canvas.
“It was just a quick study, done from memory.” She turned to find Jackson standing behind her, paintbrush in hand as he dried the bristles with a rag. “I did it soon after we found you. I hope you don’t mind…I just couldn’t help myself.”
She felt herself blush, her heart skittering to hear his words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. Though I have no clue when you managed to get it done, when I’ve done nothing but eat up your time.”
“I did nothing but paint what’s in front of me, Phoebe. And spending time with you is what’s inspired me.” His blue eyes were so intense, she found it hard to hold his gaze. And yet there were times that she felt a certain sadness there, darkening his baby blues so her heart ached for him.
“But…you didn’t simply paint me. You managed so much more than that.” Her gaze found his, and when he cupped her face, she couldn’t help but turn in to his touch, her body coming alive in a way it never had before. “I’m nervous, Jackson. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
He pulled her close, nuzzling her, his stubble rough against her cheek as she leaned into him, and when he spoke, his voice was soft like velvet. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
After everything she’d been through, she knew she should be wary. And yet there was only one answer to his question, despite the fact that she’d only known him a week. “I do. Completely.”
“Come then…” He took her by the hand and led her to the chaise, sitting her down in it and then kneeling before her, though tall as he was, they were still eye to eye. With a gentle touch, he ran his fingers down the slope of her neck to her shoulder, catching the robe to expose her shoulder. “There. How’s that to start with?”
She appreciated that he was taking things slow with her, giving her time to adjust to the idea of modeling for him. “It’s fine, though I don’t want to be interfering in your work. If you need me naked, I can do that.”
His lips kicked up in a sultry grin, as his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Baby girl, I most certainly need you naked, but that need has less to do with painting, and more with wanting to hear you scream my name as I make you come.”
She swore she must have blushed a hundred different shades of red. No one had ever been so forward with her—and she also had never been more turned on. She couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “I…I don’t think I know what to say to that.”
“It depends.” His fingers ran back up the slope of her shoulder, across her collarbone, and then slipped down between her breasts, making her breath catch and her heart race. “If you think you’d like that, then perhaps ‘yes, please’ would be an appropriate answer.”
Her silky robe slipped open and she swore the words she spoke on a needy breath materialized as if of their own volition. “Yes, please.”
He bit his bottom lip as he took her in, his fingers dancing over her skin to caress the swell of her breast and tease her nipple, as her head fell back, forcing her to bite back a needy moan. The robe fell aside so that she was bared to him fully, his lazy touch still dancing over her skin, making her crazy as she yearned for more.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Phoebe.” This time, when he touched her, his touch was insistent as he gripped her hips and pulled her to him. He nestled himself between her legs, so that she was open to him, exposed and vulnerable. “Tell me, love…will I find you wet for me?”
She wanted to groan, knowing there was only one answer to his question, especially when he could see what he was doing to her, her sex swollen and aching to be touched, glistening with her essence, the effect he was having on her undeniable. “Jackson…”
“Answer me, sweetheart…or should I just check for myself?” He bit his bottom lip as his hands slipped up her thighs, pushing her legs farther apart as he trailed kisses over her shoulder to her breasts, running his tongue in a circle over her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt each tug of his mouth like a live wire going straight through. And then his mouth was trailing kisses over the swell of her belly, before he dipped his head and ran his tongue along her slit, parting the folds of tender skin as her hips shifted toward him and she tried to stifle a needy cry. “You taste so fucking sweet, Phoebe. And you’re so wet for me…so ready.”
Everything about him was doing her in—the pace he was setting, his intensity, his words…and seeing him kneel before her, nestled there between her legs. And then he lapped at her again, sucking her clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue as he reached up and cupped her breast, pinching her nipple, while he slipped a finger deep inside her.
She buried her hands in his dark hair as her hips shifted against him, desperate for more, though he already had her so close to coming. His pace quickened and then he added a second finger, fucking her with his fingers so they curled deep inside her, making her head spin as her skin pebbled with the energy building inside her.
He made the rest of the world fall away, so there was nothing left but his touch, her body, and the amazing things he was capable of. She was so close, teetering on the edge as he finger-fucked her, when he slipped a slick finger against the bud of her ass. The unusual sensation quickly melted into a pleasure that pushed her over the edge, her orgasm racking her body as she cried out his name.
“There we go, sweet girl… Now I can paint you looking beautifully disheveled and taken.”
Chapter 8
Hawke
Hawke’s heart raced as he got to his feet, and bent down to kiss her, her taste still on his lips—when he caught the slightest movement by the door. Archer. It wouldn’t surprise him if Archer had watched him with Phoebe—nor would it surprise him if he wanted to have a taste for himself. It wasn’t that uncommon that they both sleep with the same woman, even if things felt drastically different when it came to Phoebe. And though there was the slightest pang of jealousy, which in and of itself was quite unusual, he and Archer always felt to a great degree like an extension of each other.
Hawke hadn’t intended on having her the way he did, but he hadn’t a single regret, and maybe now she’d feel more comfortable sitting for him. Because one thing was clear, even as the first strokes of paint slashed their way across the blank canvas—she was most certainly his muse.
With her eyes on him, he lost himself in her…in the way the light caught her pearly skin, the way her long neck curved into her shoulder, how her perfectly pert breasts rose with each breath, and how her dark mahogany hair shown with red and copper in
the sunlight. She wasn’t just beautiful: she was exquisite.
After an hour or two, he set aside his brushes and crossed over to her side. Though they’d taken small breaks every twenty minutes or so, she was due for something longer. “Come on, love. You must be stiff.”
She took his offered hands, and let him pull her to her feet, her body brushing against his as her robe slipped open. Though he’d already touched her, tasted her, and had been painting her for the last few hours, it was different to have her standing there before him with her robe hanging open, especially when his hard-on had yet to let up.
She looked up at him with hesitant smile, looking unsure of herself. “Did I do okay? Or did you need me to do something else? I feel like I was just sitting there.”
He tilted her chin up and stole a kiss. “You were magic, Phoebe.”
She slipped her arms around his waist and nestled herself against him, before pressing a kiss to his throat. “Can I see it?”
“Yeah…of course.” Hawke let her slip free of his embrace, and watched her as she took in what he’d so far created. “It’s still really rough—just laying things out really.”
But when she turned to him, tears in her eyes, his heart all but stopped. “Jackson…I don’t even know what to say…”
“Do you not like it?” He felt shattered and disappointed.
But that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He’d painted her on the beach as a siren upon a craggy rock, a creature of myth and legend, beautiful enough to entice sailors to crash their ships on the rocky shores. And then she was racing into his arms as he caught her, holding onto her as if he might lose her forever if he let go, his mouth on hers in a kiss. “I’m glad you like it, Phoebe.”
She went up onto her toes and kissed his cheek, as he fought the urge to want so much more. “I can’t wait to see what it’ll look like when it’s done.”
“It’ll take a while, but I’ll do my best to complete it within the six months you agreed to.” The thought of having to let her go had his chest tightening with frustration. He might feel differently when the time finally came for her to leave—but he highly doubted it.
“Oh…” She looked away with a shake of her head and a forced smile on her lips. “Of course.”
“Phoebe… It’s not that I want you to go. I truly don’t. But I know better than to think you won’t want to take off and live your life once the threat from your ex dies down.” He had to be realistic about things, because he had already grown far too attached to her. Given his past and his current living arrangements, he wasn’t one to get involved with women long-term. But Phoebe was different. Despite the short amount of time that she’d been on the island, knowing her felt life-altering.
She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “Honestly, I don’t have much to go back to. No family that I’m close to, and my friends are scattered about, since I’ve been on the move so much. So…if you need me to stay longer—you know, to finish your painting—then I’m happy to.”
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close, nuzzling her as he breathed in her fresh scent of honey and lavender. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Phoebe. I truly mean that. And that also means I should probably get you set up with your own room, so you have some privacy should you need it—although I’ll admit, I like the thought of you in my bed.”
“Except for the fact that I’ve forced you to sleep elsewhere. I’ll move my things to a different room as soon as we finish up here today. I’d been meaning to do that anyway.” She looked so apologetic, it killed him, especially when it was over such a small detail. But he knew that she’d been through a lot, and he had to wonder if her ex had also abused her in addition to stalking her. Because he knew the sort of damage that sort of thing did to one’s self-esteem—to their soul—and Phoebe’s soul felt broken to him.
“Phoebe…I want you to be comfortable here. I want it to feel like home. And whatever it takes to make that happen, I’ll do it.” No matter what she needed from him…from Archer. They’d make sure she was happy and wanted for nothing.
Wrapping her fingers around the fabric of the shirt he’d tossed over his tee, she went up onto her toes and kissed his cheek, her soft curves pressing against him in a world of promise. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met, Jackson.”
“Not that sweet, baby girl.” He knotted his fingers in her hair, and gently pulled her head back so he could look at her—and so she could see in his eyes the passion that burned for her.
Because one thing was certain—he had to have her, his soul incomplete without her.
Chapter 9
Archer
Archer carried Phoebe’s few things to one of the nicest rooms in the mansion, once built for the wife of Seth Townsend, back when husbands and wives slept in separate quarters. It was elaborately feminine, and Seth had spared no expense for the love of his life.
The room was also on the opposite end of the house from where his and Hawke’s rooms were located, which meant Phoebe would have some privacy—but they would also. It’d allow them a little more freedom to move about freely, with less chance of Phoebe running into the two of them together.
They’d need to tell her soon, but part of the problem was that both he and his brother wanted her—and from what he could tell, she wanted them. Or rather, she wanted Jackson—and that was the problem, since Jackson was a combination of both him and his brother, and if she wanted Jackson, then she wanted them both. Hopefully.
And yet…he knew chances were good that she’d have a problem with the fact that they’d lied to her, and even if she could forgive them for that, given the circumstances, it seemed highly unlikely that she’d be into sleeping with both of them. Telling her could mean she’d walk away from them both—and that could be disastrous for Hawke.
Archer set her things down on the bed and then sat on the edge of the mattress, catching her hand and pulling her to him. “Now that you’re feeling better, we could head into town, if you’d like. I got you a few basics to hold you over, but you must surely need more. Maybe we can make a day of it?”
She nestled between his legs, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’d love to pick up a few things, but…I’m worried Kevin might still be in town. I’m safe as long as he thinks I’m dead, but if he sees me…”
“You’re safe as long as you’re with me. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you. But if it makes you feel better, we can go anywhere you’d like. Portland, Boston—London, Paris…anywhere.” He’d fly her around the world if it’d keep her fears away.
“Yeah…maybe that would work. Portland should be fine, if it’s not too much of a problem.” When she slipped her arms around his neck and bent her head to his, he couldn’t help but want her, his cock going hard and straining against his jeans as he pulled her close.
“I want you to be happy here, Phoebe—and I’ll do everything I can to make it happen. The least of which is heading to Portland. Besides, we could do with a few more supplies.” Though how he managed to focus on anything but his need for her was beyond him. Archer hadn’t been able to think of anything but the image of her half-naked form draped over the chaise in the studio, as his brother buried his face in her sweet cunt until she came, crying out their name.
Whatever plans he had swimming in his head would have to wait until they got back from town. He didn’t know if he could take things slow, but he still needed to try to pace himself or she’d be packing her few belongings and taking her chances with her ex.
Once they left the island, she nestled into the heated seat of his SUV, looking more nervous than he’d seen her in days. He was sure she must feel exposed and vulnerable when Kevin was still out there, yet it’d been over a week since he’d tried killing her, and if he had any sense of self-preservation, he wouldn’t hang around so he could be tied to the area if the authorities came looking for Phoebe.
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Archer reached over and gave her hand a squeeze and a reassuring smile, as he divided his attention between her and the road. “You’re safe, Phoebe… It’d be stupid for him to stay in the area when it could connect him to you going missing—and the windows of the car are tinted to an extent, allowing for some privacy.”
She relaxed a little, shifting in her seat to face him. “You must think I’m paranoid.”
“What I think is that you have every right to be cautious. You’re only paranoid if your worries and fears are unjustified, and unfortunately, yours aren’t. But I’m not going to let you come to harm. Understood?” He needed her to know he’d defend her at all cost—as would Hawke.
“I swear, you’ve changed my entire life around, Jackson. Up until now, I’ve felt completely alone, and…you’ve already saved me more times than you know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” She shifted closer and kissed his cheek, her lips warm against his skin, as her body and soft curves pressed against him, pushing his self-control to its limit.
Yet, she wasn’t like the women he was normally with—the one-night stands or the women he sometimes called upon to fulfill a need. Phoebe was different, and the way she made him feel, the way he felt about her, was different too. This wasn’t just needing a quick lay. There was more to it than just scratching an itch. And though he desperately wanted her, he didn’t want to risk what they already had started. He’d have her—of that there was no doubt—but he’d let her set the pace. Or try to, anyway. He was a patient man—but he sure as shit wasn’t a saint, and having her around was trying his self-control.
They got to Portland, Maine, and after spending the day shopping to supplement her wardrobe, they holed up in a pizza joint to get in out of the cold and grab themselves a pie and a pitcher of beer. Taking a bite from his slice, Archer nearly groaned with pleasure. “Man, that hits the spot. Living out on the island doesn’t exactly make it conducive to ordering in, and good pizza is the one thing I truly miss.”