“Do whatever you want. I don’t own you.”
“That’s sort of where you are wrong. You do own me for the next year. So I was asking you if I could leave for a few hours.”
“Whatever. If I own you then why not leave for a while longer. Do what you want. I’m busy up here painting anyway and you are disturbing me, so I would appreciate the peace and quiet after the events of this morning.” She moved back to the painting, her back to him.
“So sorry. I would hate to be a bother.”
Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind and she raced back to the metal rail. “Hey, if I own you, and I can tell you to do anything,” she called down to him as he was resting one strong hand on the handle to the sliding door.
“Just about anything.” He turned back to her with a slight frown furrowing his brow.
“Okay, then. Just leave. Don’t come back.” It couldn’t be that simple could it? Nothing in her life ever was, but she paused in her work, hoping that his response would be her salvation from this larger than life problem.
Eyes opened wide in shock, he stood before the door, looking up at her. His lips moved silently, no words came but she thought she saw the mental gears shifting. “I’m contracted to be here a year. I’d be in breech if I left and never came back.”
With that, he slid open the door and walked through, slamming it on his way out.
****
Bailey was propped up on pillows, trying to feed herself the pitiful looking hospital food when Ethan walked in. He sat down along the edge of her bed and easily pried the spoon from her fingers.
“I’m not a child, Ethan. I really can feed myself. You may have to do this after the surgery, and will get tired of it.”
“You look like you don’t have the energy to do so. Just let me pamper you a bit, it will make me feel better.”
“Only if you promise to tell me about the woman.”
“What woman?”
Bailey rolled her eyes and smiled. “You know what woman. You can feed me if you tell me all about the person you are going to spend the next year with. I just want to know you aren’t going through Hell for me.”
Scooping up a load of broth, Ethan moved the spoon towards her mouth, thinking of what he could say to put Bailey at ease. “She is a painter, a pretty good one, not that my opinion counts. She lives in a loft that has a studio and only one bedroom. She has paint all over her clothes and in her hair.”
“And?”
“And what?” Another scoop headed towards her mouth, Ethan trying to not spill the contents of the spoon all over her. She refused it, looking him squarely in the eye. “And there has to be more. What does she look like, how old is she, is she nice? Tell me everything.”
As she finally took the bite of food, he sighed. “Honestly Bailey, I really haven’t spent a whole lot of time with her yet. She looked surprised for me to even be there, which seemed odd. And then, when I suggested we share the only bed, she freaked and let me have the room saying she was going to take the couch. Once she showed me the room, she took off and started painting. That’s where I left her. And to top it off, she told me when I left to come see you, to not come back.”
“That is odd. Why would a woman spend that much on a ticket and then act so strange when she won? It’s completely pointless. I assumed she would throw herself at you.”
“I was expecting pretty much the same.”
“Maybe she is one of those crazy drama types who get off on fighting and then making up. What do you think?”
“Geez, Bailey, you must be feeling better if you are needling me this much.” He smiled at her, and she returned it. Seeing a little bit of her fire returning, in her gestures, her actions, and even her barrage of questions, the sparkle in her eyes he had always loved was visible and gave him hope. This surgery had to work. It just had to.
“The neural transference is actually helping a little. Dr. Reding said it would make me feel a little stronger as some of the pathways were being redirected away from the damaged tissues. Which will help me get through the surgery, as well. So, while I am feeling good and strong, tell me what I wanna know, or I may have to kick your butt.”
“Okay, okay. She’s about my age, maybe a couple of years in either direction. Pretty tall for a female, I’d say five foot nine or ten. Blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail, sloppy paint covered clothes that were so baggy I couldn’t tell anything about her body. There, does that make you feel better? Although I don’t know why you feel the need to know so much.”
“I’m stuck in this awful room, with nothing to do, so I’m being a little nosey. Why not have her come with you tomorrow so I can meet her and ensure she takes care of my brother.”
“Ohhhh, no. Not happening. I am not allowing her into my private life. I am staying completely neutral with this woman. The less she knows about my life, the better.”
Bailey pouted. “I guess I understand. But I hope you reconsider. I would feel better if I knew her. You know I have always been a good judge of character, and I would know by meeting her if she was okay.”
“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it. It will be fine. I have certainly dealt with worse in the past. I’m a big boy, and I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time.”
****
Approaching the door to Karlyn’s studio, Ethan paused in front of it, not knowing what he should do. He was technically living there, but it was her house. Should he knock or just walk in? Deciding that he might incur her wrath for bothering her again while she was painting, he let himself in.
He looked around the open space, but he didn’t see or hear her moving about the studio, nor was she in the spacious living area or kitchenette. Glancing around the room, he realized he loved her sense of style. As large as it was, it easily could have felt empty and cold. But she filled it with bright colorful canvases, lots of green plants and eclectic collections of small statues and other pieces of art.
The large overstuffed couch rested on a beautiful, albeit worn, Persian rug. It looked comfortable, maybe even more so then the bed, and he considered the possibility of trading with her. He walked over and flopped down to test it out, sighing at its comfort. He would definitely have to renegotiate the sleeping arrangements.
Pushing himself off the comfortable furniture, he walked into the bedroom, trying to figure out where he should store his bags so they wouldn’t be in the way. He figured he might have to negotiate some storage space as well as the use of the couch. Bending down, he rooted around in his bags looking for the e-reader that held the novel he wanted to start reading; he might as well waste time as he waited for Karlyn.
Suddenly, a door opened and a little steam escaped. A naked and wet Karlyn stepped through the fog, toweling her hair. He stopped in his tracks as he perused her body, realizing immediately that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Her body was curvy, a real woman’s body, and her breasts were large and swayed seductively as she moved, obviously natural. Her hips were a tad wide, but that would allow her to ride him easily. Feeling a stirring in his loins, he tried to stand and carefully exit before she stopped toweling her hair to avoid embarrassing her.
As he raised himself up, she pulled the towel from her head and looked him straight in the eyes for the first time. His gut clenched and he felt as though he was rooted to the floor as he saw her, truly saw her for the first time, and was lost in her pale blue eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Fierce need swirled through him, a need to claim her in a base way, to make her his own. Seeing his own need reflected back at him, as well as a touch of sadness, it touched his very soul. Trapped in that moment, he just stared in shock at her for several moments.
Karlyn quickly covered herself with the towel in her hand, as if she finally realized her immodesty. “Damn it, man, couldn’t you have called out that you were back?”
“I’m sorry, I was afraid I would get yelled at again for bothering your work, so I let myself back in quietly
.” He snapped a little too quickly, taking offense to her sharp tone. She stiffened at his sarcasm, “Can you please stop staring at me and give me enough privacy so I can get dressed?”
Thankful for the e-reader in his hands, he lowered it to hide his burgeoning erection. Still ensnared in her eyes, he finally relented and just smiled at her as he squinted his eyes, walking backwards from the room. “I wish I could stop looking.”
Chapter Seven
Why did he become an angry little beast every time he was around her? It wasn’t her fault that his sister was sick. It wasn’t her fault that they needed this money desperately. It wasn’t her fault Ophelia had had him blacklisted. The actor in him had evidently died off in the four years he was out of the practice of pleasuring a woman. He needed to find that part of him and woo her like he was being paid to do. But every time he got near her, it seemed anger prevailed.
He needed to find the middle ground, he could not get emotionally involved, one way or the other. This anger that kept surfacing, was he using her as a scapegoat? But she was not Ophelia and did not deserve the wrath he had saved for that woman. And Karlyn’s underwhelming response to winning him made his ire lessen. She had made it apparent that she didn’t want him there.
But the year was just beginning. He knew she would eventually show her hand and he would see what she was really up to. No one spent the kind of money on a lottery ticket only to throw the prize out the door. It didn’t make any sense. For now, he would work on being nicer to the woman, if that was possible, until he saw the side of her he thought existed somewhere under that paint coated exterior.
****
“Sam showed me some of your art when we were there for the dinner party. I was enthralled by the piece of Times Square. The life, the energy, the fire, it is remarkable work,” said her smiling, new client on the vid screen.
Karlyn blushed a bit, not used to such high praise. She nodded at the woman. “Thank you very much, Miss Paul.”
“Oh, psshh, call me Michelle. We are designing a new community center uptown, and I would like to add some of your cityscapes to the walls. We open in about three months, so would there be enough time to get four to five large paintings?”
“Four?” FOUR OR FIVE? Remind me to kiss Sam later. “The Times Square painting that you enjoyed has two sisters, one of Broadway and another of Greenwich Village.” Pulling them into view, she continued, “And just last week I began a fun Central Park piece.” She pulled the tarp off of the canvas she had started the day of her birthday. It was nearly complete, and hopefully exactly what was needed.
“Breathtaking! I love it. Two more like those works and we will be in business. I love the New York theme you have going on, so I want that same feeling in the new pieces. Now tell me what your price is for the complete works. The paintings will be my donation to the center. Your work will really brighten up the space.”
Karlyn thought over a price, and decided to be a little more daring in setting it. This may be her chance to break into a new upscale community and she couldn’t undervalue her work, but she had to be practical as well. “Five million for the set.” She held her breath, scared the woman might laugh at her.
Without batting an eye the woman answered. “Done. Give me a banking IP address, and I will transfer you half now. Upon completion, I’ll give you the rest.”
Karlyn let out the breath she had been holding. She couldn’t believe it had been that easy. Heck, maybe I should have asked for more as easily as the woman agreed. She gave Michelle the banking information and pressed her thumb to the screen to authorize the transfer. Two and a half million dollars immediately flowed into her nearly bare account. It would be enough to pay six months mortgage and hopefully cover the cost of food and supplies for herself and her new roomie. When she was through, she should be in decent shape. She had a couple of smaller jobs planned, but nothing of this magnitude. But between them all, she was sure that she could probably survive the next year financially intact.
Once she finished up the transaction, she slipped down the stairs gleefully, excited about this new opportunity. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had skipped breakfast, and it was well past dinner time. Once she reached the bottom, she spied Ethan cooking in the kitchenette. She had detected a delectable aroma as she came down, but as she approached the smell became even stronger, making her mouth water.
His back was to her, and as she walked into the kitchenette area, she grasped the handle of the fridge unit and peered inside. She really didn’t want to occupy the same space with him, but she was tired after a long day, and she would grab something quick and snuggle into the couch for some much needed rest.
“Hungry?”
Karlyn peered over the door at him. “Yes, that’s usually why someone looks in the fridge unit. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“I suspected as much, and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but it sounded like you were conducting business upstairs, and you were painting all afternoon. I figured I’d start us something for dinner since you were busy.”
“Us?”
“Yes, for both of us.”
“Why would you be nice all of a sudden after showing me you have been inconceivably rude all day? The food isn’t poisoned is it?”
His brows furrowed as he looked down into the pan, and she thought she saw anger in the way he began pushing the food around it, but then he flashed her a ten kilowatt smile, discrediting her initial reaction. “Well, since we both have to eat, and there is no one here to cook our meals, and since you obviously have been too occupied to start something yourself, one of us had to cook. Should I have poisoned it?”
“Well, sarcasm doesn’t help either.” Karlyn just stood staring back at him, not knowing what else to say. His smile and banter through her off balance, and her knees felt wobbly as he continued to stare. The butterflies that had been swarming in her belly since the first time she had laid eyes on him began again, as fear crept into her core and heat swirled in her mound. His hot gaze alone was enough to ignite the fires of desire in seconds. And she did not know how to react to him, especially considering his hot and cold mentality. One moment he made her knees weak, the next he made her feel as though she might crawl into a corner and hide.
“All I wanted to do was to make a nice dinner for you. Is that against the rules?” She noted his slumped shoulders, and wondered if their bickering was tiring him as much as it was her.
“I just wonder at your motives.”
“Does everything have to have a motive? Do you have a motive for every action you take? You don’t seem the heartless wench under that doe eyed exterior, but perhaps you have been hiding the inner bitch?”
“Ethan Spears, you are a brute. Take my half of whatever junk you are cooking and shove it sideways up your ass. I can’t believe anyone would spend ten million on a ticket to spend even one moment with you.”
As soon as the sound escaped her lips, she regretted the words and hoped he did not realize what she had just implied.
Stalking towards her, she felt rooted to the spot she stood in. Heat coursed through her body with the look of need that flickered in his eyes. Grasping her hips and pulling her close once he reached her, he lowered his head, lips mere inches from her mouth. She felt him thicken against her stomach and need spiraled through her.
Looking up at his face, seeing the emerald depths of his eyes glaze over in lust, she mentally begged for that mouth to descend on hers once more. She felt her toes push forward ever so slightly, in order to make his capture effortless. Smelling the sweet hint of cinnamon on his heated breath, her tongue came out to swipe her lips, a silent plead for him to continue.
“Well, get over it, baby, because you were evidently hard-up enough to spend it, and now you are stuck with me.”
Her face red with humiliation at his cutting words, she breathed in a deep breath of shock. Karlyn stared at him and his gall, before pushing him away. She was indeed stuck with him for the next year, but her embarras
sment subsided once she recalled his heated cock, long and hard, against her belly. Looking down, she saw he was still hard and hot. Knowing she affected him as much as he did her squashed some of her embarrassment.
Suddenly realizing he had not caught the implication that she had not been the one who had paid the money for his ticket, she sighed inwardly in relief. Seconds later she had to bite the inside of her lip to prevent herself from telling him just that as renewed anger over his little show flooded her. She wasn’t sure if she was angrier over the way he had played her or in her reaction to him.
“Yes, you are sooo right. I guess I was really hard-up, as you put it, to buy a ticket. But I have so learned my lesson. And as usual, with my luck, I bought a lemon.”
Ethan stopped stirring the skillet at that comment. “A lemon?”
“Yes, a lemon. An old expression my grandmother once taught me. It means you didn’t get what you paid for.”
Ethan turned towards her. “I can remedy that for you. Do you want me to lick between those thighs of yours until you cum? Or would you rather I ram my cock into your pussy? You want to lean over that chair over there and bare your ass for me, I can do it right here for you. I am under contract to perform for you whenever the mood strikes you. Is that your thing? You like to fight…do you want me to fight with you and pin you to the floor and be rough with you?” The derision in his words was mounting with each syllable.
Shock was written all over her face, her mouth open in utter mortification. She had never heard such language, and she could kick herself for the images now swirling in her head and making her nipples tight with excitement. But she wouldn’t give in to the baser instincts…not considering he said these words in anger, not in desire. Fear prevailed and squashed the lust that swarmed her.
The Lottery Page 6