The Jewel of His Collection

by Fae Mallory

  She parked her car in front of the steps and retrieved the painting from her trunk. There was a pause after she rang the bell, giving her time to hope that Ian would answer it himself. Instead, Xavier opened the door. “Miss Fabre,” he said with some surprise. “Mr. Carlisle is still indisposed.”

  “I understand.” The disappointment threatened to choke her. Holding out the wrapped painting, she requested, “Will you please give this to him when he has a moment? It’s a gift.”

  Xavier relieved her of the painting. “Of course, Miss Fabre.”

  “Thank you.” On wobbly legs, she made her way back to the car, stealing glimpses back over her shoulder at the blind windows gazing down at her. She fancied that Ian was in one of those dark rooms, watching her, but if he was, he made no move to stop her as she left.

  Now there was nothing to do but wait. If she had to sit around her apartment all night waiting for the phone to ring, she’d go mad, so Violet stopped at the art supply store, giving her credit card a workout as she indulged in a bit of retail therapy. At the very least, she’d have her painting to keep her company as she waited for Ian. She’d wait as long as it took.

  It took two trips to haul everything up to her apartment, and Violet shoved the coffee table aside to unroll her canvas. Stretching it and priming it would be something mindless she could do with her hands because if she tried to paint right now, she was fairly sure she was shaky enough to render her subject abstract no matter what her intentions.

  The rhythm of stretching and cutting the canvas soothed her nerves. By the time she had two ready to go, her hands were cramping but she felt less like she was about to fall apart. Leaving the unrolled canvas where it was, she dumped out the bags of supplies she bought onto the floor beside it, meaning to sort through her new acquisitions.

  A knock at the door prevented her from doing more than just grouping things by category, and she cast a despairing glance at the mess she’d made as she went to open the door, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t want to come in.

  “Ian!” She gasped as she saw who was waiting for her. He looked dreadful as he leaned against the doorframe, his long hair mussed as though he’d been raking his hands through it. He was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot. He was the most beautiful thing Violet had ever seen.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked inanely. Somehow the thought that Ian would be on the other side of her door had never crossed her mind. As far as she knew he didn’t even know where she lived, although in a small town like this, the information probably wasn’t hard to come by.

  “Did you mean it?” he demanded, his jaw clenched so tightly that she could see the muscle jumping under his taut skin.

  “Mean it?” she parroted, not sure if he was referring to her cruel words or the apology implied by her portrait of him.

  “The painting. Did you mean it?” he rasped. His eyes were fixed on her as if his entire life hinged on her answer.

  “Every brushstroke.” As the door to the stairwell opened at the end of the hall, she grabbed his elbow and tugged. “Come in.”

  Ian followed her inside, looming over her as she pushed the door closed behind him. “You meant it. So, what the hell was all that ‘I got what I wanted’ shit about?”

  Violet winced at the harsh note of anger in his voice. He was well within his rights to be furious with her, but it still hurt to know that he was. “I’m so sorry, Ian. I misunderstood. When we had sex, I thought it was just another deal—like when I stripped for you. I didn’t think it meant anything to you, and I was hurt, so I tried to hurt you back. I’m sorry.”

  “You succeeded,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I gave you Geminids, and you thought it meant nothing to me?”

  “I didn’t look at the paperwork when Xavier gave it to me. I thought it was just a loan. I didn’t look at it until today, and that’s when I realized…” She trailed off, her hopes suddenly seeming ridiculous in the face of Ian’s anger.

  “You realized?” he prompted.

  Swallowing hard, Violet forced herself to say the words. If she was wrong, he’d laugh in her face, but she had to take the risk. “That you loved me.”

  “Not quite.” At Ian’s quiet words, Violet hunched over like he’d struck her in the stomach. She squeezed her eyes closed, her nose hot and stuffy as she tried not to cry. After what she’d done to him, she deserved this.

  Ian took hold of her shoulders. “Look at me. Look at me, Violet.”

  Her breath came in ragged pants as she tried and failed to obey, feeling him give her a little shake. “Look at me.” His voice was inexorable.

  When she finally managed to open her eyes, Violet gasped. Ian’s face was only inches from hers, his eyes soft and wet. “You used past tense,” he said gently. “I love you, Violet. Present tense.”

  “Ian.” His name was the only thing she could manage, and when she burst into tears, Ian pulled her close, his hand smoothing over her hair as he comforted her.

  “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair, the tender words only making her cry harder. Even after everything she’d done, Ian still loved her. It was a gift that she didn’t deserve.

  “I love you, Ian. I’m sorry I was so horrible,” she sobbed, clinging to his shoulders.

  “Yes, about that.” He reached up to take hold of her wrists, easing her away from him so he could look into her face. Violet hiccupped as she tried to stop crying, aware that she must look a fright, her face red and blotchy.

  He gave her another gentle shake. “How could you not know how I felt about you? I couldn’t keep my hands off of you!”

  “I thought it was just sex. You know, because I was willing.” Violet tried to explain, wondering how she could have been so blind. “I mean, you’re gorgeous and brilliant and powerful, and I’m just dumpy and boring.”

  “Dumpy?” he repeated in disbelief. “Sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with your body. Trust me.”

  He sounded so sincere that Violet was able to smile. “You just think that because you love me. You weren’t interested at all when I stripped for you.”

  Ian’s mouth worked silently. “Excuse me?” he finally managed.

  “You took off without even saying good-bye. You couldn’t have been less interested,” she reminded him. The memory held no pain. Ian hadn’t wanted her then, but he did now. That was enough for her.

  “I left because if I hadn’t, I would have pounced on you in the middle of the gallery,” Ian informed her. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, Violet blushing as she felt his erection. “I was hard enough to pound nails just watching you wander around looking at my paintings. I locked myself in my office to jerk off because I didn’t want to scare you to death.”

  His impassioned words brought a flush to her face. “You didn’t,” she denied, more out of habit than actual disbelief.

  Lowering his head, he murmured directly into her ear. “I got myself off thinking about laying you down on one of the benches and making you scream for me. I could see the passion simmering inside of you, and I was determined to set it loose. I knew you had to be mine no matter how long it took to win you over.”

  “That’s what you meant!” Violet blurted, relief overwhelming her desire at his seductive whisper.

  At his puzzled look, she elaborated. “After we had sex the first time, you said you thought I’d make you work harder than I did.”

  “I thought I’d have to court you for months before you trusted me enough to let me touch you,” he confirmed.

  “I thought you were playing a game. Like, you’d made a bet with yourself about whether I’d let you fuck me,” she admitted, embarrassed by her own lack of understanding.

  Ian’s eyes blazed when she used that word. “Say that again,” he demanded.

  “Fuck,” Violet repeated, holding his gaze even though she could feel herself blushing. “Do you want to fuck me, Ian?”

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t see straight,” he vowed, hi
s voice a low growl that made Violet’s knees go weak.

  “Yes,” she whispered, twining her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his.

  “But first…” He leaned down to kiss her, pausing with his mouth only millimeters away from hers.

  “What?” Violet strained her neck, whimpering when Ian pulled back, refusing to allow their lips to touch.

  “But first I want to see your paintings,” he informed her, his eyes dancing with mischief.

  “Ian!” He ignored her protest, brushing a light, chaste kiss to her lips before stepping back and catching her hand.

  “You thought I’d be satisfied with only seeing one? It’s like you don’t know me at all,” he teased.

  Even though his voice was light, his eyes were serious, and Violet gave in. “All my old stuff is in my parents’ attic,” she cautioned. Hopefully, they hadn’t thrown it out because she was suddenly eager to share her work with Ian. “I saw the ones on your college’s website.” At her searching look, he shrugged. “I did my research when you came to town. I was curious about a painter who didn’t paint.”

  “Yeah, I’ve had a pretty bad case of artistic block.” She led him to the two canvases she’d leaned against the wall, their backs to the room so they wouldn’t torment her with the memory of what she’d thought lost. Flipping them forward, she heard him take a sharp breath.

  Ian released her hand and dropped to his knees to examine the paintings, his face alight with wonder. “You painted us.”

  Having him look so closely at her work felt more intimate than having him inspect her body, and Violet took an instinctive step back. “You’re my muse. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Sweetheart.” Ian groped for her, never looking away from the paintings as he caught her hand, tugging her down to join him. “Oh, Violet, these are incredible.”

  “I’m no Hunter Madden.”

  “The world already has a Hunter Madden. Now, it has a Violet Fabre.”

  There was so much admiration in his voice that Violet blushed. “I think you might be a little biased.”

  At that he finally looked at her, his eyebrows drawn together as if she’d insulted him. “I know beauty when I see it. You, my love, are going to be very famous one day.”

  To argue with him would be churlish, so Violet bit back her instinctive denial, saying instead, “And you get the credit for discovering me.”

  “You don’t believe me.” Ian cradled her face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers. “I’m going to convince you of how incredible you are if it’s the last thing I do,” he vowed.

  Privately, Violet doubted whether she’d ever be able to believe that, but if Ian thought she was incredible, then that was enough for her. “I still can’t believe you want me,” she admitted.

  “How could I not want you? How could anyone not want you?” Ian looked so befuddled by the idea that she had to kiss him, pulling back when his face suddenly grew stormy. “What about Hallar?” he demanded.

  “I broke up with him,” Violet assured him at once.

  “He kissed you,” Ian reminded her.

  Wincing, Violet rubbed the back of her neck, ashamed by her own behavior. “Actually, I kissed him. Twice.”

  Something dangerous flared in Ian’s eyes, and she hastened to explain. “I was hurt when you said I earned Geminids, so I wanted to hurt you back. I wanted you to think that it didn’t mean anything to me. I’m so sorry, Ian.”

  “I admit that I didn’t phrase that particularly well. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Sex with you tends to do that to me.” Ian’s rueful look faded into a scowl. “You said twice?”

  “I tried to make it look good for you, but I didn’t feel anything when I kissed him. I tried again at the bar to make sure, but there was nothing there, no spark. Even if you didn’t want me, I didn’t want to be with him.” Violet took a breath, hoping that Ian would accept her explanation.

  “And what about me?” Ian held her gaze as he lowered his head, trapping her bottom lip between his as he sucked fiercely, the sensation going straight to Violet’s core. “Is there a spark with me?”

  “All you have to do is look at me,” she admitted.

  “I’m going to do a lot more than look.” Pushing her onto her back, he straddled her hips, and Violet’s heart pounded as he loomed over her, his dark hair tangled around his face. “Tell me you don’t just love me for my paintings.”

  It seemed impossible that Ian could need her reassurance, but there was a shadow of pain in his eyes that Violet would do anything to banish. “I’d love you if you didn’t own a single painting. I’d love you if you didn’t have a penny to your name. I love you because you’re Ian. Because you make me laugh and listen when I talk. You brought my creativity back to life.”

  “I wanted to break Hallar’s neck. I wanted to tear him apart,” he confessed, his face tortured. “The thought of you with him…”

  “Every time I was with him, I was thinking about you. The only reason I agreed to go out with him was because I didn’t think I stood a chance with you.” Violet shook her head at her own foolishness. If she’d just been honest about her feelings for Ian, the pain of the past weeks could have been avoided.

  “Why would you think that?” Ian asked, looking so honestly confused that she had to lean up to brush her lips against his.

  “You’re a little out of my league. Everyone warned me not to forget that,” she admitted, reaching up to clasp his shoulders, trying to pull him down on top of her.

  Ian refused to cooperate, holding himself away from her. “What?”

  Violet smiled ruefully as she thought about the parade of gorgeous women who’d attended the exhibit’s premiere. Ian was surrounded by women like that all the time—thin, beautiful women in designer clothes who could afford to jet off at a moment’s notice to attend every hot ticket event. They lived a life Violet could only dream about, and she felt sorry for every single one of them. They would never have what she had because Ian had chosen to fall in love with her. “Well, look at us. You’re drop dead gorgeous, and I…I’m just me.”

  When he heaved himself off of her, Violet swallowed a cry of protest, wincing at the glint of anger in his eyes. “I’ve heard enough.”

  Try as she might, Violet couldn’t understand where his sudden coldness was coming from. They’d solved all of their problems and talked out the misunderstandings. There was no reason for him to be upset now. “I don’t understand.”

  Reaching down, Ian grabbed her hands and hauled her to her feet. “I’m sick of listening to you demean yourself. You are the love of my life, and I won’t hear a word against you. Not even if it comes from your own mouth.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, cursing herself for giving voice to her insecurities. Her inability to believe he could ever want her had nearly destroyed everything once. Would she never learn from her mistakes?

  Ian gave her a wolfish smile. “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

  Chapter 11

  He gave her a little shove, sending her stumbling toward the canvas still spread out on the floor, and turned on his heel, leaving her standing in the middle of the room. “Strip for me,” he requested, perching on the edge of her coffee table and watching with rapt attention as she stood awkwardly on the canvas that now felt more like a stage, surrounded by piles of art supplies.

  “Strip?” She sucked in a breath as he deliberately arranged his body into the same posture he’d worn when she stripped for him in his gallery. Her shabby apartment was a considerably less impressive setting.

  He lifted his eyebrows in challenge. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “More paintings?” she asked with a laugh, stalling for time as she tried to figure out what Ian was up to. He’d seen her naked body enough times to dispel any nervousness about stripping for him, but she still felt odd about putting on a show.

  The heated look he gave her made her heart double its pace. “You’ll have to wait an
d see,” he informed her in a silky tone.

  Shaking her head at herself, Violet took the bait and reached for the hem of her dress, tugging it off over her head and tossing it aside to land in a puddle of gray fabric, leaving her in only her bra, panties, and control top pantyhose. If she’d known she was going to be doing this, she would have worn something a little sexier.

  “Much better,” Ian praised, shifting and spreading his legs just enough to give her a look at the bulge in the front of his jeans. Violet’s mouth went dry at the unmistakable evidence that he did indeed desire her.

  “I’m going to burn every one of those hideous tents of yours,” he informed her as his hands went to his own shirt, carelessly unfastening his buttons. “It’s a crime against nature to hide curves like yours.”

  His words sent a jolt through her, and Violet looked down at the floor to hide her flushed face as he continued to talk. “You have the most luscious breasts I’ve ever seen. The first time you did this, I was shaking from the need to touch them, to cup them in my hands as I kissed and licked every delicious inch of you. I want to bury my face between your breasts and never come out.”

  Ian’s voice was a low growl, making Violet’s knees go weak. She was burning up, ready to combust just from hearing him say lovely, filthy things. Her nylons had to go, the fabric feeling unbearably restrictive. This time, she bent straight over to roll them down her legs, giving Ian an eyeful of her breasts.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he demanded, following her lead as he tossed away his shirt and unfastened his belt. Violet’s fingers itched to rake through his sparse chest hair and tease his flat nipples until they budded under her tongue. “I know what your thighs feel like wrapped around me, how powerful they are as you ride me. What man wouldn’t get down on his knees and beg to touch you?”

  “Ian, please…” she begged, her body swaying toward him.