by Bella Andre
"Please."
He made her so needy that she couldn't help but beg. And maybe with anyone else it would have felt like giving away her own power. But though she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to believe in her own strength or talent the way he did, she already knew for certain that he would never try to gain his power through her the way so many other men had since she'd become famous.
"Tell me," he urged, "tell me what you want."
She hadn't exactly been shy during their lovemaking--how could she be, when his kisses and caresses felt like they'd stripped away everything that didn't matter? But she hadn't taken the lead either. She knew what she wanted, of course. What she'd wanted from the start, but hadn't let herself have.
"You." She put her hands on his jaw and let herself take a long, heady look at the incredible man holding her as though he'd never let her go, never let her fall. "I want you."
His grin was spiked with heat. So much heat that it took her breath away. "Then take me."
She grinned back, no longer worried about feeling shy or ashamed. At least not now. Not when she and Drake were alone in their private cocoon of pleasure.
Drawing back just enough on his lap so that there was space to put her hands on his chest, she closed her eyes and drank in the feel of him, so solid and warm and alive against her palms. Where he obviously favored the visual, she always saw best through her hands.
Slowly, sensually, she worked her way down over his broad and muscular shoulders, tracing his biceps and triceps, and then the sinews on his forearms. First with her hands, and then with her lips, over every inch. All the while, she could feel his arousal grow beneath her hips. Instinct had her teasing with a slow slide here, a wiggle there.
She was glad he let her play as long as he did, but at the same time she loved it when he hit his limit and took her mouth in a rough, perfect kiss. She never wanted this moment to end, but now that she knew the exquisite pleasure of Drake's body heavy over hers, inside of hers, she didn't think she could wait another second to get there.
Fortunately, he must have been thinking the exact same way, because the next thing she knew he had donned protection again and was tumbling her back onto the bed, his weight levered over hers.
"Rosa."
He said only her name as he moved into her, but it felt like so much more. Felt like everything she'd ever wanted but hadn't thought she could have. She'd never felt this good before, never believed it was possible.
She felt appreciated. Adored. Consumed. Devoured. And...right on the verge of overwhelmed.
But just when she hit the point where fear might have been able to come creeping back in, Drake kissed her.
And made her forget everything but sweet, spiraling ecstasy.
Chapter Sixteen
"Before the sun sets, I need to paint you again."
Drake tugged her from the warm, cozy bed where she could easily have stayed the rest of the afternoon. Especially if he was in it too.
"Maybe you could bring your easel in here so that I can stay in bed," she said with a shiver as her bare feet hit the cool wood planks.
"Later," he said as he dragged her against him for a hot, too-quick kiss. "Right now I want to paint you in the light coming in through the living room windows."
"It isn't easy being a muse," she murmured as she turned to find her clothes.
He surprised her by putting his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. "Promise me you won't ever sit for me if you don't want to."
She blinked at him, trying to figure out what she'd said wrong. "I was just teasing," she said, but she instantly realized why he wouldn't find her offhand comment at all funny. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it."
"If it's what you're feeling--"
She put her hand on his jaw, desire rising at even that one small touch. "I love that you're inspired by me in any way at all. I'm happy to sit for you until you get tired of having me here."
"Never." His eyes went so dark when he grew serious like this. "It won't ever happen. But that doesn't mean I have the right to imprison you in my painting cave."
"Do you think that's what your dad did?" She didn't want to hurt him with her question, but she didn't think either of them could skirt around it now either. "Do you think he made your mom his unwilling muse?"
His jaw jumped beneath her palm, and she wanted so badly to soothe him. "I don't know." She ran her hand down from his face to place it over his chest, his heart beating fast as he told her, "None of us know much at all about what happened between them."
"What about the paintings? Wouldn't you be able to tell from looking at her expression? From what you see in her eyes?"
"Maybe." His frown deepened. "Unless my father only painted what he wanted to see--or my mother only showed him what she thought she was supposed to as his muse."
Rosa wished Drake's family was perfect, wished he didn't have to deal with such a complicated situation. But maybe that was part of what had drawn them to each other from the start. And maybe that was also why they weren't afraid to dig beneath the surface.
Right now, however, she wanted to see the light, the inspiration, in his eyes again. So instead of continuing to dig, she smiled and said, "You promised me pie and a dog on my lap." It took another few moments for his eyes to clear, but when his mouth found hers again, she breathed a sigh of relief against his lips. "After the sun sets," she whispered as she made herself draw back, "we'll continue that thought."
She felt his eyes on her--hot and hungry--as she pulled on her sweatshirt and panties and headed out to the kitchen. Oscar stretched lazily before padding over to her. "Do you have any treats for him?"
"He'll happily take a slice of pie," Drake said, already at his easel, "but there are dog bones in the corner cupboard."
She fished a bone the size of her fist out of the container. "Sit." Oscar plunked his big butt down. She held out her hand, and with the utmost care, he licked the bone into his mouth. "You really are adorable. One day I want a dog just like you."
"You don't have one?"
"I travel too much, plus my little brother is allergic."
"Tell me about your siblings."
"I have two brothers, actually pretty similar to yours, from what you've told me. Aaron is the cocky one. Sporty. Smart. A bit of a player, if I'm being honest." She gave Oscar another bone, then washed her hands and reached for the pie on the counter. "I really do love him, though, even if he can be pretty insufferable sometimes. Lincoln is quieter. Just as charming when he wants to be, but usually happier in his head--just like my dad was." Trying to keep from getting emotional again when she'd intended to keep things light, she said, "Lincoln can't believe he has so many fans on the show. But there's just something appealing about that strong, silent type."
"No sisters?"
She shook her head. "I always wished I had one, but after what happened to me--" Damn it, she was doing a terrible job of keeping things light. "I'm just glad there wasn't another girl in the family to take pictures of, and that my mom wasn't filming that trip with us either."
Thankfully, Oscar's loud snuffling at the edge of the counter where the pie sat helped her shake off the darkness that threatened. She turned the oven on and put the pie in, figuring it would be ready to eat by the time the sun set. "Come on, big boy, let's go pose for the painter."
It was like crossing the room with a lion at her side--while another one held a paintbrush, his dark gaze both intense and protective. She knew she shouldn't let herself become too dependent on Drake, but unlike pretty much everyone else in her world, she couldn't imagine him ever attaching strings to anything.
As soon as she sat in the leather lounger, Oscar got up in her lap, then turned his muzzle so that he could rest it on her shoulder like a baby. She laughed as she stroked him. "I love you too."
"Lucky furball."
Drake's brush didn't stop moving the way it did whenever things got really serious, but his soft comment still hit her
smack dab in the center of her chest.
Did he really mean it? Would he actually want her to love him? And if she did, was there a chance that he would ever love her back? Truly love her, mistakes and all?
Just like that, her fears came rushing back. So many fears. Too many. She truly was sick of being scared.
And yet, she thought as she looked around the room at the paintings propped up against the walls, the woman on Drake's canvases didn't look scared. Pensive. Sensual. Confused. Wild. But not scared. Above all, it was bravery and strength that shone through.
She'd meant it when she told him that she didn't understand how he saw so much, even the things she could barely see in herself. Rosa wanted to be brave, wanted to be strong like the woman in his paintings.
The only problem was that she didn't know if being strong meant staying here with him...or walking away without letting him get any closer to her and her messes.
Only her body had clear answers right now, with the pleasure he'd given her--the pleasure they'd given each other--nowhere near close to fading. Turning to stare at him now instead of the paintings, she was filled with such longing to kiss him, to touch him, to love him with everything she had during whatever time they still had together. He was so intuitive. Did he know that the only time in a very long while that she'd truly felt strong, brave--good--had been in his arms? Almost as though his bravery, his strength, had been pouring through his skin to hers.
There was nothing she wanted more than to be right back there in his arms again. But since Drake wanted to paint until sunset and she refused to do anything that would distract him from his calling, she decided she needed to do something to keep her hands busy and off of him. Something more than just being pinned in place by his huge sweetheart of a dog.
As if he could read her mind, Oscar climbed off her lap and back onto his bed so that she could grab a small blank canvas from Drake's stash. "Can I use this?"
It took him long enough to answer that she knew he must have already gone deep. "Use anything."
She loved that feeling, when she got so lost in something she was making that everything else fell away. She was glad that after months of being blocked, he had finally found his way back into the groove.
Grabbing her needles and thread from her bag, she took the canvas back to the leather chair and began to stitch. She'd never again take for granted this wonderful feeling of being warm and sated, with a dog snoring at her side and the sun setting out over the ocean. But best of all was knowing that Drake was there, creating alongside her.
Her knight in shining armor, who had already given her so much more than any fairy-tale prince could have.
Chapter Seventeen
Long after the sun had set and the timer on the oven had dinged for the apple pie, Rosa remained utterly absorbed in the project on her lap. Oscar was sprawled beside her on the floor, belly up, as peaceful and happy as Drake had ever seen his big lump of a dog.
Drake hadn't minded being two bachelors--one human, one canine--rattling around his cabin and New York City penthouse. But when Rosa was with them, his space became warmer. Brighter. So much more alive. Even as she worked quietly with great concentration, she was all those things.
At last, she looked up at him. "Oh no!" She jumped up, dropping the canvas on the chair. "I forgot the pie."
"I got it."
Halfway across the room, she was close enough for Drake to pull her in for a kiss. She immediately melted against him, her arms circling his neck as she kissed him back. He was a beat from carrying her into the bedroom again when he heard her stomach rumble.
"You're hungry. Come share my pie."
"Is that slang for something dirty?"
He laughed so loudly that Oscar lifted his head to see what all the fuss was about. Drake's cabin was so small that he was easily able to put his hands on her waist and spin her around to sit on his kitchen countertop. "Stay there while I get a fork."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're kind of bossy," she teased as she dipped a finger into the pie and brought it to her lips. "Come back to my cabin," she said in a low voice that was supposed to sound like his. "Go pose for me. Sit on the kitchen counter and don't move." She licked warm apple filling from her fingertip, her eyes closing for a moment of bliss before she opened them to say, "It's pretty sexy, actually."
Hell, she was the one who was both sexy and sweet, sitting on his counter in nothing but a pair of panties and a Montauk sweatshirt, with tangled sex-hair and apple pie on her lips. He nearly slammed the cutlery drawer shut on his hand as a powerful realization hit him right there in the middle of the kitchen.
Rosa was it for him.
This had happened to so many of Drake's cousins that he didn't try to fight it, even if other bachelors his age might have gone to battle, with everything they had, against falling in love.
Or maybe the reason he didn't need to fight it was simply because from the first moment he'd set eyes on Rosa until this very moment in his kitchen, he'd found endless reasons to love her.
The way she was filled with light, inside and out, even when darkness would have surrounded anyone else in her position.
How much it had obviously hurt her to hear about the loss of his mother and his father's relentless pain.
The fact that she still deeply loved her own mother even if her heart had been torn apart by the way her mother was dealing with the photos.
Rosa was so much stronger than she knew, and he wouldn't stop looking for ways to make her see it too. Yes, he knew that her life was anything but simple right now, but Drake was finally starting to see that keeping things simple didn't always mean they were better. And he sure as hell wasn't afraid to take on her demons, not when he wished he could have gone to battle for her by doing more than just calling Smith for help.
She was, he knew now, worth any risk.
Even the risk of repeating his parents' mistakes.
He wanted to say, I'm falling in love with you. But he knew better than to do that just yet. He didn't want her to claim it was hot sex talking. Or to say that he only loved painting her. Or that he hadn't had any sleep last night and would feel differently after he had.
Besides, given that her life was complicated enough already, it definitely seemed smarter to focus on the simple things--food, laughter, pleasure--to give her a chance to learn to trust again.
Soon, however, he'd put on the full-court press to make sure she knew that he wasn't going anywhere...and that she shouldn't either, because he didn't need her to protect him from anyone or anything. No, what he needed was Rosa, messes and all.
Drake pushed the fork into the pie, then lifted it to her mouth. "Open up."
"See?" she said with a little smile. "Bossy." But she happily took the bite he offered and then the next before she'd even finished the first. "Mmm, I need more."
"Never thought I'd be jealous of an apple pie," he grumbled as he answered her request with a third bite that was all apple.
"It is really good," she said when she'd finished it. "But I'm thinking we can make it even better. How do you feel about being each other's plate?"
Drake couldn't get his shirt--or her top--off fast enough.
"I take it," she said through her laughter, "that's a yes?"
"It's a hell yes. You first."
For as hard as his blood was pumping and as fast as his heart was racing, he was amazed by how gentle he was able to be as he laid her down on the counter, wearing only her panties now. He wanted to feast on her, and it was damned tempting to forget about the pie altogether. But since he also hoped that this sexy game was her way of opening up to him a little bit more, he didn't want to screw things up by changing the rules. Not when she'd had way too many rules changed on her already.
Dipping his finger into the pie, he lifted it to her breasts and circled one nipple with the warm, sweet filling. Her eyelids fluttered to half-mast as he bent to lick it off. It was hard to go slowly, to savor, when all he wanted was to devour--espe
cially when her hands had tangled in his hair to bring him closer. But he wouldn't rush giving her pleasure as he licked every inch of her left breast, then started all over by painting apple pie around her right nipple and giving it the same hungry treatment with his tongue.
"My turn now," she panted when he lifted his mouth from her skin.
"I'm not even close to having my fill yet." He scooped up an apple chunk, and when he dropped it into her belly button, her slightly breathless laughter was easily the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Quickly, however, humor shifted to an aroused moan as he purposefully nipped at her skin while biting into the apple. One more bite--one more sexy moan--and the piece of apple was gone.
"Drake," she said as she tried to sit up, "I want to do the same to you now."
But he had already hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and was pulling them down her legs. "I need one more taste first."
Tossing the cotton aside a moment later, he lowered his mouth to her sex. And she was so much sweeter than pie as she shattered against his lips, his tongue, his fingers, that he already knew he'd never get his fill of her.
*
Up on the counter, Rosa was at the perfect height for Drake's lazy exploration back up her torso with his lips and tongue while she slowly resurfaced from yet another mind-blowing orgasm. "As soon as I can figure out how to move again," she said, "you're in for it."
He grinned against her soft skin. "Don't rush on my account. If you hadn't noticed, I'm having a mighty good time already."
"Me too." She could hear the surprise in her own voice. She could still hardly believe that she could feel so relaxed--or have so much fun with anyone. She pushed herself into a sitting position, then hopped off. "No need for you to get on the counter," she said as reached for the button of his jeans, then unzipped them and pushed them to the floor. "Wow." His erection was so big and hard and beautiful that she almost dropped to her knees to worship it, before she remembered she was supposed to do this with pie.
"Rosa." She was just swiping some pie with one finger and dropping down when he put a hand beneath her chin and tipped her face up. "You don't have to--"